Max put the phone down on the table, pressed his face into a throw pillow, and howled with laughter. Fuck, he could imagine Grady’s wet-cat face. Had he lost at mini golf? Did he get cranky about it? Or was his date the one who couldn’t handle Grady beating him, and got progressively colder as the gap increased, while Grady struggled to figure out what he was doing wrong? He couldn’t decide which was funnier.
