25 | HENRY
FUCK. WHAT TIME is it?
I glance at the clock in the kitchen – 9:37.
Why the fuck are they home so early?
We have a house rule that you don’t hook up with girls outside of your bedroom – and it is strictly enforced. It was implemented two years ago, on the same night that Danny hooked up with this cheerleader that he met at one of our freshman playoff games. He got drunk as hell off of cheap beer at Mason Field, took her back to the house, and started fucking her on the couch.
The joy of the moment was ruined when Jonah’s mom, who had been staying with us for a few days to watch the big game, walked back into the house after dinner to the sight of Danny’s bare, thrusting ass. Ever since then, no living room hookups.
God damnit. I don’t even want to think about the punishment wheel.
“Guess we’re breaking out the punishment wheel,” slurs Jonah, a drunken smile curling across his lips.
Shit.
“Hey, Georgia!” Danny exclaims, soberly ambling into the living room behind Jonah. “Still working on your column? It’s pretty late.”
He checks his watch, a confused look on his face.
“Hi, Danny.” Georgia replies, quickly running her fingers through her curls in an attempt to tame them.
“She’s w-working on a lot more than a column,” Jonah remarks, a devilish smirk on his face.
I groan. “Fuck off, Jonah.”
“You s-fuck koff!” he garbles, stumbling slightly as he steps towards me.
God.
“I’ll take him to bed,” Danny interjects, gripping Jonah’s arms and guiding him towards the stairs.
A few minutes pass before Danny re-joins us in the living room, this time without the drunken idiot. We’re straightened up by now – Georgia’s hair brushed back into her effortless Rachel Green-esque blowout, me without a raging boner for all to see. She’s managed to open her notebook and ask me a few genuine interview questions, much to my disappointment.
All I want to do is kiss her.