Could I, she asks? For these two? That would be a hell to the yes.
Anytime.
Anywhere.
Always.
They really are my heaven, and all I ask out of life is that I get to hold onto them both, for—
Well, guess for forever is the only thing that sounds right there, yeah?
22
Johnny
A day off from work, home all day with the two people I’m crazy about? If we weren’t all three stuck here waiting for the repair guy to show, and if the A/C wasn’t out while the in-house temperature tries to melt my face off, I’d have no complaints. But as it is—
“Ninety-six degrees,” I say, tapping the thermostat in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
And this is with the windows open.
Matty laughs, the fucker, but I notice he doesn’t even pretend to try to move. He looks like he’s melted right onto the kitchen stool, parked next to one of those open windows with a fan that’s as good as useless blowing toward him and Eden.
Well, useless except the way it keeps fucking with the Monopoly money we got laid out, because for real, isn’t the heat enough? I gotta be tortured with my least favorite board game of all time, too?
I’d happily take double this heatwave to get out of playing… except of course I can’t say that, since Eden’s having fun with it and Matty’s having even more fun, since apparently he likes seeing me suffer.
And okay, maybe I’m not actually down with double the heat, since I’m pretty sure twice the temperature we’ve got going here would turn the place into a literal oven, instead of just this feels-so-close-that-who-gives-a-fuck-about-the-difference business.
Although gotta say, if there’s one upside to living in an oven today, it’s the view.
Matty’s stripped down to just a loose pair of gym shorts that hang low on his hips, right below the cut, and Eden? No bra, loose tank tied up and barely holding her tits in, and shorts so short I’m pretty sure they’re illegal. They’re both looking flushed and lazy and sexy as hell, so maybe all things considered, I’ve actually got no complaints after all, you know?
Especially since I’m currently doing pretty good at dodging the next round of Monopoly. Dodging it… and getting inspired about some way funner things we could be doing right now, what with the two of them looking like that and all.
Matty snorts back a laugh, pouring his six millionth glass of lemonade as he shakes his head at me.
“What?” I ask.
He grins. “Stop it.”
He hands the glass to Eden, then pours another one and presses it against his face.
We’re all so over-hydrated at this point that I’m pretty sure he’d float away if he tried to actually drink it, but can’t blame him for trying to get a little relief from the insane heat.
Still—
“What?” I say again, bouncing on my toes to see if that’ll help turn the breeze from the fan any cooler.
Annnnnnd… that would be a negative.
Matty’s laughing at me, so I give up on finding any patch of air that’s not combustible and cross my arms in front of my chest, glaring at him.
“Stop what?” I ask for the third time. I mean, come on now, if I’m gonna get called out on something, I’ve got a right to know the offense, you know?
“You were looking at Eden like she’s candy, bro,” he finally says, leaning back against the wall like the poster child for temptation.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he is hands down the sexiest man alive… not that I need to stroke his ego with that particular factoid right now.
Instead, I grin, because he’s right about the eye candy.
“Look at her,” I point out, even though I’d technically been looking at both of them that way. “You gonna try and tell me you don’t want to peel those shorts off our girl and—”
“Oh, you,” Eden cuts in, laughing as she fans herself and turns even pinker. “You know I’d normally agree, but…”
Matty eyes her appreciatively, but then turns back to me with a lazy smile and an entirely too accurate: “It’s too damn hot for that shit today, Johnny.”
I refuse to admit the truth of that statement.
“When is the repair guy gonna get here again?” I ask instead, sticking the kitchen towel I’m holding under the faucet for the five millionth time and then slinging it around the back of my neck.
Blessed, blessed coolness… all 0.5 seconds of it before the damn thing is right back to room temperature.
Matty rolls his eyes, and Eden giggles.
“Does he ask ‘are we there yet’ when you guys road trip, too?” Eden asks Matt, the sexy little Judas.
“Endlessly,” Matty says dryly, fishing a slice of lemon out of his glass and chucking it at me.
I dodge like a pro, then smack it in midair in the direction of the sink, sinking it in one.
Skills, yo.
I grin, triumphant, and Matty snorts back a laugh at my victory dance. A laugh that I ignore, because I’m gracious like that. Then of course I fish the lemon wedge out of the sink and put it in the trash can, because I know how particular Matty gets about those things. And then I get my neck-towel wet again, because turns out that my dazzling display of athletic skill was actually a bit too much exertion for a nine-thousand-degree day like this.
“Come over here and sit down, Johnny,” Matty says, sounding half-asleep from the heat. “And don’t think I don’t know that you’re trying to pretend you didn’t just land on my railroad.”
I ignore the accusation because he’s right, and then wet the towel yet a-fucking-gain, which causes inspiration to strike me.
“Hey, I know,” I say. “Let’s all go fuck in the shower.”
Cool water? Check.
Naked bodies? Check and check.
Passing the time doing something other than dying from heatstroke or suffering through the never-ending board game from hell? Checkity check check.
Yep, pretty sure I get the award for best idea of the day.
I grin, raising my eyebrows at the two of them.
“And who’s going to listen for the doorbell?” Matt asks like the party pooper he’s apparently set on being today. “We definitely don’t want the repair guy to have to come back tomorrow.”
Huh. Good point.
I’m about to suggest doorbell equals the short straw when Eden points to my nemesis, the Monopoly board laid out on the counter between them.
“Is this just your way of trying to avoid declaring bankruptcy?” she asks, giving me a smile far too sweet for someone who apparently lives a secret double life as a closeted board game real estate tycoon.
I grimace, pulling the towel off my neck and covering my face with it. Satan is known by many names—Lucifer, the Devil, some weird, unpronounceable things I vaguely remember from Sunday school… and that guy, the inventor of Monopoly.
Seems obvious to me, at least.
I hear Matty laugh. “Johnny’s always hated this game, Eden. You should have heard some of the crazy shit he’d come up with, trying to wheedle his way out of debt back when we were kids.”
“Your mom charged some crazy prices for a night in a hotel, bro,” I point out, my voice muffled by the towel. “Just sayin’, there should be room for negotiation, you know?”
“But you’re the one who suggested we play, Johnny,” Eden says, laughing.
I let the towel drop off my face and put it under the faucet again. “Not true,” I say, defending myself. “I believe I said let’s play strip poker.”
“Couldn’t find the deck of cards,” Matty says, which is beside the point.
“And you know, it really wouldn’t have lasted long anyway,” Eden adds, those gorgeous blue eyes of hers sparkling as she looks between the three of us. “I don’t think we have more than a half-dozen pieces of clothing on between us.”
She’s right, but I still think it would have ended up being a hell of a lot more fun than the torture which is t
his endless slog of a game.
The next time Matty has us go on a spring cleaning kick? I’m totally going to accidentally on purpose put it in the “donate” box. For real, why do we even own it? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve already used that strategy at least twice in the past. It’s like one of those… what are they called? That mythical beast where every time you cut off its head, another two appear?
“I think he’s forfeiting,” Matty says to Eden, downing his lemonade and then pushing the empty pitcher toward me with a serious dose of puppy eyes.
What, he thinks those are gonna work on me?
…it’s like he knows me or something.
“You’re forfeiting,” I say, not worried in the slightest that the comeback makes no sense.
I snatch the pitcher off the counter and open the fridge, pulling out some more lemons because of course I’m gonna help him out. I’m a sucker for him and he knows it. Besides, neither one of them looks capable of unpeeling themselves from the stools they’ve melted onto, so someone’s gotta take care of business, you know?
I’m tempted to spike it, but since it’s been too hot to eat all day and is still too hot to fuck, the alcohol would probably be less fun than I imagine… or else too much fun, given our empty stomachs.
We are still waiting on the repair guy, after all.
I table the idea and decide to revisit it after he finally shows up and does his thing, assuming that ever happens.
“You can close the fridge door any time now, bro,” Matty says from behind me, obviously jealous that I’m actually enjoying a moment’s grace.
“I’m looking for the sugar,” I lie, leaning in to the tiny patch of frigid air and wishing like hell I could just fold myself up and fit inside the fridge completely.
Eden laughs. “We keep it in the fridge now? Last I checked, the sugar was in the cupboard.”
I give up and close the fridge, turning to face her with a grin. “You would know,” I say, winking. “Aren’t you the chef in the family now? What was learning to cook, number sixty or something on your bucket list?”
“Nah,” Matty says, giving her a hot look. “Pretty sure sixty was something else.”
Eden pinks up at that, so I’m guessing #60 was something fun.
“Cooking was number sixty-six,” she says. “And I still can’t believe I’ve actually done it. I’ve checked every single thing off my bucket list.” Her eyes are glowing, and she’s smiling with her whole body as she goes on. “It’s been in front of me for so many years, and some of those things I really wasn’t sure I’d manage. Even though, um, I’m not really… I mean, mi español todavía está… está…”
“It’s good,” I say when she flounders, jumping in before Matty does even though all I really got was the bit where she said something about speaking Spanish. “Doesn’t have to be perfect yet, you know? I still say checking off the language one counts, since you’ve been practicing so much.”
“Agreed,” Matty says, pulling her in for a quick kiss that makes me rethink the whole “too hot to fuck” thing.
But… no. It really is, dammit.
I finish mixing up the lemonade and pour them each another glass, then go back to the sink for another pointless round of wet-the-towel.
“You know where I want to be right now?” I ask. “Alaska. Give me a glacier, please.”
Eden grins. “I’ve been to Alaska. It’s actually really nice in the summer. Not too cold, and the glaciers really are beautiful.”
“You’ve been to Alaska?” Matty asks, downing half his lemonade in one gulp. He must have the bladder of a camel. “Please tell us all about the cold parts. In great detail. Along with every other cold place you’ve ever been to. Iceland, maybe? Antarctica?”
She laughs, shaking her head. “I’ve never been out of the country, actually, other than a few day trips across the border to Canada, but visiting all fifty states was number twenty-two on my bucket list.”
“What else you have on there that we don’t know about?” I ask, giving the Monopoly board a side-eye. I’d much rather talk about Eden and her list than give the two of them a chance to talk me into another round of that bullshit. “You ever ridden in a hot-air balloon?”
She laughs, nodding. “Yep. Number fifty-two.”
“Sang karaoke?” Matt asks, raising his eyebrows.
Eden smiles. “Number seventy.”
“How about ride an elephant?” I ask.
“Well, I know she’s ridden a mechanical bull,” Matty says before she can answer, and of course he makes it sound dirty.
Which okay, fine, can’t blame him. The image is hot.
Eden presses her glass of lemonade against her forehead, blushing like she knows it, but all she says is: “I’ve, um, ridden a few things. Number thirty-three for the elephant, number sixty for the bull. I even toured the Grand Canyon in a helicopter, which meant I got to check off both number forty-two and number eleven.”
“I should do a bucket list,” I say, because hello, who wouldn’t want to ride on an elephant? Also because I’ve got to get my mind off her on that mechanical bull… at least until the repair guys shows up like he said he would five hours ago and cools the house down enough for me to properly fantasize about reenacting her on top of it.
“You should,” Eden exclaims, her eyes lighting up as she looks at me. “What would you put on it?”
“Season tickets to the Bruins,” Matty says, which sounds good to me.
“Riding an elephant,” I add, grinning. I eye Matty’s glass. Empty again. “And maybe a camel?”
He snorts, shaking his head. “I think they spit.”
“And bite,” Eden says, wincing.
Matty shudders. “And smell.”
“Camels don’t smell,” I say, offended on their behalf. Even though, okay, truth is I have no clue, but come on now, why are they suddenly hating on camels?
Although if I do put it on the list, clearly I should specify a two-hump camel, because my balls would not be happy if I had to perch on top of a bony one-hump for the duration.
Are their humps made of bone?
Are their humps actually their bladders?
Would I be riding on a pee-hump?
That… might be gross, actually. Not gonna back down now, though.
“Sign me up,” I say in camel-solidarity, determined to love on them regardless of their actual hump status.
“You should totally start a bucket list, Johnny,” Eden says excitedly. And she obviously really likes the idea, because she actually unfolds herself from her melted puddle and plucks the magnetized notepad and pen that Matty uses for a grocery list off the fridge door, then plops back down at the counter and starts scribbling on it. “What’s number one? The camel?”
“Hell no,” Matty says, grabbing her hand before she can write it. “Something that doesn’t involve zoo animals, please.”
“It’s my list, bro,” I remind him. “You can start your own.”
“You’re going to drag us along to all this shit, I already know it, so I think that entitles me to have a say.”
“Sorry, Matt, but you’re wrong,” Eden says, because she’s a goddess of truth, wisdom, and beauty. “This is Johnny’s list, and he can do whatever he wants to.” She swats away Matty’s hand and writes #1 — Ride A Camel on the page, then grins up at me. “Next?”
Easy. “I want to see the world’s largest ball of twine.”
Matty rolls his eyes, but you know he wants to, too.
“And go to the top of the Statue of Liberty,” I tell Eden, pouring myself a glass of lemonade even though I’m pretty sure it’s gonna make my tonsils float.
Matty’s lips twitch. “You’ve already been to the top of the Statue of Liberty.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“So what you’re saying is, this time you’re gonna keep your eyes open?”
I raise an eyebrow, looking carefully between him and Eden, and then down at myself. “Bro, two out of three pe
ople in this room have jumped out of a plane, just sayin’.”
He snorts, but I ignore it.
“Do you want me to add the season tickets to the Blue Ones?” Eden asks, making me blink.
“To the what?”
Eden bites her lip, looking back and forth between Matty and me. “Um, the… whatever Matt said. The… Brewers? Is that a sportsball team?”
Matty’s eyebrows shoot up, and a deep pang of sympathy enshrouds my heart as the yawning abyss of Eden’s ignorance becomes clear.
“Dude,” I say, shaking my head sadly as my eyes meet Matt’s. “This is a problem.”
“I mean, if she was too perfect, that would be scary, too, yeah?”
Eden smacks Matt’s arm, but I dodge like a pro when she tries to do the same to me and snatch up the pen and notepad while I dance out of the way. She laughs, refilling her lemonade glass, and I scribble a few quick items before tossing it back down on the counter.
#4 - Bruins season tickets
#5 - Take Eden to a Bruins game
#6 - Teach Eden the difference between a puck and a ball
#7 - Ride an elephant
#8 - Make Matty ride an elephant… and a camel
#9 - Duck boat!!!
Matty picks up my list, eyes scanning it quickly before he looks up at me. “I’m not riding a damn camel, Johnny,” he says, shaking his head like he honestly believes that to be true.
I grin. He’s so cute when he’s wrong.
He frowns. “I’m not.”
“Hey, you’re the one who said Bucket List Rules include you guys doing all this shit with me,” I remind him.
“I didn’t say that,” he lies.
“Yes, you did,” I say, because he did.
“No, I didn’t,” he says, because apparently he likes to be wrong.
“Yes, you did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes… you did, Matty,” I say, grinning because first of all, I’m right, and second, we’re not playing Monopoly right now, and third, oh, I am getting him on that damn camel, and by this point, we both know it.
“No, I—Jesus, Johnny,” Matty finally says, throwing up his hands and laughing. “There aren’t even any camels in Boston.”
Three Page 27