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Actually, there were a lot of other options, but all of them had ‘Danger!’ written all over them in huge block letters. Red letters. Like the kind of sign you’d put on a velociraptor cage. The problem was, I wouldn’t have had trouble keeping my distance from a velociraptor. I wouldn’t have wanted to pull it into my arms, kiss it, stroke its back, and hope that it nuzzled into my neck and whispered my name.
I smiled at him, a lot more genuinely this time. “You gonna sic your attack-dog Lucas on Sebastian’s parents for us?” Chris let out a sharp little cackle of laughter, his hazel-green eyes bright, and for a second I could see why he got so many dates. He didn’t hold a candle to Sebastian. But I could see it. “Yeah, Lucas is a real menace. He’s probably terrorizing thirteen-year-olds in League of Legends as we speak.”
He mumbled something that sounded like, “I viewed a porter.” What the fuck? At least that couldn’t possibly translate as, “I ended the universe as we know it.”
“You were never pathetic. For the record, though? ‘Uncle Peter has better estate lawyers than you’ might be the most trust-fund-brat thing anyone has ever said, ever. I mean, I guess if you’d managed to work in a reference to a yacht —”
Aidan was a true product of southern California. He called me dude, he called his jacket dude, he called Rick dude — though only when Rick wasn’t in earshot. One time he’d called me ‘Dude, baby’ when he was drunk. Like, really? I was his boyfriend. I should be exempt.
This is the most Californian thing ever and I love it.
