Cheesy on the Eyes by Teagan Hunter Page 0,60
me, I am aware.”
We climb out of her Mustang she still hasn’t let me drive, and my hand finds the small of her back as we make our way up the drive to Porter’s front door, enjoying the feel of the stretch of exposed skin between her long skirt and her top. I almost want to ask her if she’s not wearing underwear like the last time I saw her in this skirt, but I don’t want to start anything I can’t finish.
“Seriously? You’re all a bunch of morons,” Dory chides as she pulls the door open. “Hey, guys. Come on in.”
“In my defense, I was just checking out the car,” Wren says. “I already know Thea.”
“Well, well, well,” Winston says. “Looks like I won our bet, ladies and gents. Sully and Thea are dating. Pay up.”
Porter, Foster, and Wren all groan, pulling money from their pockets and sliding it into Winston’s waiting palm.
“I’ll take my cut now.” Thea holds her hand out.
Winston slaps the money into her hand, grinning from ear to ear because he still won the bet.
“Thank you for letting me crash your thing,” Thea says as we make our way inside.
“Oh, please. You’re not crashing it. As you can see by the pitiful acting from Winston, we all knew you’d be showing up. I’m Dory, by the way. I’ve heard so many great things about you.” She points toward Porter. “That’s my idiot.”
“Hey! He resembles that remark,” Foster says, and then Porter punches him in the arm.
Dory rolls her eyes. “You’re just as bad, Foster. I don’t know how Wren puts up with you.”
“It’s because of my big—”
“I will end you,” Winston warns before Foster can finish what I’m sure is an X-rated sentence. Part of me thinks he just says that shit to get Winston going, but then part of me believes he’s just that dumb.
Foster scoffs. “Please, I could take you.”
“Not this again.” Porter groans. He pushes past them and approaches me and Thea. “Hey, I’m Porter. I don’t think we’ve officially met yet.”
“The billionaire, right?”
He grins. “Is that the word on the street?”
“One of them. The other rumor is you’re Bruce Wayne.”
“God, I wish he were Bruce Wayne,” Dory mutters, but then she sends a sweet grin to her fiancé. She points to the brown paper bag I’m carrying. “Is that them?”
“You know it.”
She claps her hands together, excited. “Oh, I cannot wait! I’ve been fasting since yesterday for this.”
“You never did tell me what’s in there,” Thea says.
“I’ll show you. Kitchen?” I ask Dory.
“Yep. Drew’s in there trying to make it all pretty like the chef she is. I’ll run these to her. You know how she likes to put on a show.”
Dory takes the bag from me and scurries off to the kitchen.
“It’s pointless,” Winston declares. “We’re just going to make a mess of things once the booze gets involved.”
“Once it gets involved? Were we not supposed to start drinking yet?”
“Jesus, Foster,” Wren complains. “You couldn’t wait?”
“Hell no. We’re kid-free—I’m getting fucked up, eating some chicken fingers, and bangin’ my hot wife.”
“But not in my bathroom!”
“I’m not the bathroom fucker. That’s your fiancée.” He winks at Dory. “Ouch! Dammit, Winston. Quit hitting me!”
“Quit talking about bangin’ my sister.”
“You were right—I’m totally going to be exhausted,” Thea whispers, leaning in close.
“Told ya so.”
“Speaking of chicken fingers…Drew, are you ready yet?” Foster calls into the kitchen.
“Listen, you impatient little shit—yes, I am, but you’re eating last just for being pushy.”
“Your best friend is mean,” Foster pouts to Wren.
“Your best friend is an idiot.”
“Wait—are you referring to me or Winston?” Porter says.
“Yes,” Wren answers, pushing past us all and making her way into the kitchen ahead of the crowd.
We all follow her to where Drew’s putting the finishing touches on our buffet with one hand, the other held up in the air, halting us from digging into our ritual feast.
We wait with bated breath, probably all having looked forward to this since our last meetup.
When she’s finished, she brushes her hands together, then holds her arms open wide.
“I give you: food!” she announces. “Let’s eat!”
The herd moves at once, grabbing plates and piling them high.
“Hold on, let me get this straight—this is what has everyone all jazzed up?” Thea asks, surveying the spread with her brows raised.
“Yep. Isn’t it beautiful?” Wren practically salivates.
“It’s…not at all what I was expecting.” She laughs. “It’s all finger foods.”
“Hey, there’s some mac ’n’ cheese too. We have to bust out the forks for that,” Porter says, grabbing his