CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
COLTON
“Dude, I know you want cake, but you have to go to the hospital.” I tried to steer Jason toward the door, but he’d somehow developed superhuman strength and was in the process of bracing himself against the frame as I attempted to push him through. Don’t ask me how he was doing it one-armed. It was a medical marvel. Actually, I take that back, he was a medical marvel. I mean, how could he even see?
“No!” Jason shouted. “I’ve gone through hell and all I want is a piece of damn cake! Then you can take me to the hospital where they’ll poke and prod me and—”
“Dude.” Max walked up with a large piece of cake hanging out of his mouth. “You aren’t E.T., they aren’t going to poke and prod you like you’re some new species.”
“Aghhhh!” Jason surged away from me and charged toward the cake.
“Hmm.” Max put another piece in his mouth. “On second thought, he should be dead, so maybe they will poke.”
“Don’t say Jason and poke in the same sentence.”
“Or prod.” Max nodded. “Lots of prodding, and the doctor saying things like ‘Okay, bend over and cough.’ ”
“Uh.” I scratched my head. “Highly doubt his examination’s going to be that extensive.”
“Ants”—Max nodded—“are like sand. They get everywhere.”
“And that mental picture I could have totally done without, thanks.” I slapped him on the back.
He demolished the rest of his cake and handed me a plate. Just as I was taking a big bite he said, “So, you ready for sex?”
I choked.
Frosting went everywhere.
I also earned a few stares from family members and a totally inappropriate wink from Milo’s grandmother.
“It’s cool,” Max continued. “I mean, I’d be nervous too.”
“I’m not nervous.” My damn fork shook as I dove into the cake and took another bite—to keep myself from passing out.
“Sure you are.” Max shrugged. “I mean, why wouldn’t you be? You’re her first, what if you totally blow it? And I don’t mean that in the literal sense.”
I choked again.
“Think of it this way—”
“I’d rather not think of this at all.”
“That’s not a good sign, you have to have a game plan!” Max nudged me and then motioned for me to follow him over to the kitchen.
He grabbed a pen and paper and leaned over.
“Now.” He drew two stick figures.
“Uh.” I laughed nervously and looked around. “If you’re going to show me how babies are made, just don’t. Please, don’t. I’m not a virgin.”
“Aha!” Max lifted the pen into the air. “But she is, therefore, diagram. Observe.” He started scribbling X’s and then O’s and then arrows pointing to different parts. To be honest it looked a hell of a lot like a football play.
“So, you start here.” He circled her head.
“I decapitate her? Good plan, Max. Solid.”
“Um, no.” Max rolled his eyes like I was the one losing my sanity. “You kiss her, you have to start slow as to not scare her off, then you slowly, and I do mean slowly, move south.” He drew an arrow down.
“Max—”
“Once you reach this region.” He circled one stick figure’s, well, um, stick body. “You need to be sure not to pressure her, I think the—”
“Whatcha guys doing?” Milo asked from behind me.
Freaked out, I did the only thing I could think of doing. I threw my cake into Max’s face and laughed. “You lose!”
“What game were you playing?” Milo asked, laughing.
“Yes,” Max said, as bits of red velvet crumbled off his face, leaving a smear of bright white icing clinging to his cheek. “I’m dying to know.”
“Tic-tac-toe. I won.”
“So you threw cake in his face?” Milo started wiping it off of Max while he glared.
“Yeah, well.” I sniffled. “He kept saying I didn’t know the rules to the game, and I do. Like the back of my freaking hand. I know exactly where those X’s go, where the O’s need to be. Hell, call me Mr. Tic. Tac. Toe.”
“Lies,” Max spit. “Your O’s are going to be all over the place! And all because you didn’t pay attention to the X’s!”
“Damn you and your X’s!” I thrust my finger into his face. “I’ll prove it once and for all!”
“Oh, yeah, HOW?” Max shouted.
“Game! Right here! Right now!”
It was then that I realized exactly what I’d said.
Max blushed. “Dude, I don’t play . . . that way.”
Milo, probably wanting to help, said, “Guys, it’s okay. I mean, if you need a judge, I can sit here and watch.”
“No!” we shouted in unison.
Max blushed. “It’s not for . . . viewing pleasure.”
“Because that would be . . .” I looked heavenward. “Against the, uh . . . wrong.”
Milo looked between us. “You guys take games way too seriously.”
Max gave Milo a smug grin. “Only the best ones do, my love.”
“Hands off,” I growled, pushing him out of the way. “Come on, Milo, it’s time to play.”
“Oooh!” She jumped up and down. “Are we going to arm-wrestle or play a board game or something?”
“Sure.” I snickered. “Or something. See ya later, Max.”
“At least remember the diagram!” he yelled.