“If a girl texts you, she’s looking for more than a fucking hey.”
Patrick’s mouth drops open.
Oh shit. I point at him. “I swear sometimes. Don’t tell your mother.”
“Okay.” He shrugs. “Harry swears too.”
Hmm, I bet he does.
“So?” Fletcher frowns in fascination. “Like . . . what kind of plan?”
“Like, do you want to get something to eat, do you want to go to the movies . . . something like that. Strike while the iron’s hot. If she texted you first, she’s into you. Move fast, before she changes her mind.” I sip my wine. “Girls are changeable, man. One day they like you; the next day they don’t.”
“Oh.” His face falls. “So I’ll call her tomorrow, then?”
“No, aren’t you listening?” I roll my eyes. “Call her now.”
“But I can’t do anything tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m minding Patrick.”
“On the off chance she says yes, I’ll stay with him.” I pour the wine so fast into my glass that it sloshes over the sides.
Fletcher looks between Patrick and me.
“I’m waiting here for your mother anyway. I don’t mind.” I give Patrick a playful soft punch in the arm. He smiles and punches me back as hard as he can in the thigh. It nearly knocks me over, and I double over in pain. Ahh, fuck’s sake . . . dead leg. “Ow, ease up.” These kids are so violent. “You got a good hook on you, kid.”
“I know; I made Harry cry the other day,” he announces proudly. “I pulled his hair and punched him in the neck.”
I smirk. This one is definitely my favorite. “Hmm, not sure if that’s okay, but . . . well done.”
Fletcher begins to pace. “So . . . I say hi.” He waves his hands around in the air as he thinks. “And then . . .” He turns back to me. “What do I say then?”
I sip my wine. “Hello, my name is Fletcher, and I don’t know where I keep my balls, so call someone else,” I mutter dryly.
Fletcher throws his phone onto the bench. “I can’t do it. I’m not calling her.”
“Call her.”
“No. I don’t know what to say.”
“Call her,” I demand as I point to his phone with my wineglass.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” I grab Patrick’s shoulder and lead him into the living room. “We’re going out here. Do it now.”
“What if she says no?” he stammers in a panic.
“Who cares?” I shrug. “The world is full of hot girls, Fletcher.”
“Not as hot as her.”
“So why are you wasting time talking crap to us, then?”
Fletcher’s eyes hold mine. “Okay, I’m going to do it.”
“Good.”
“I’m going to call her right now.”
“Less talking, more action,” I call.
“Okay.” He begins to pace again, and I roll my eyes. Heaven help him if he actually gets the chance to do the deed . . . he’s as green as a fucking tree. Hell, I was fucking twenty-five-year-olds at his age. What in the world has this kid been doing all this time?
I sit on the couch next to Patrick. “Do you want to watch a movie while we wait for pizza?” he asks.
“There’s pizza coming?”
“Uh-huh.” He smiles and picks up the remote and begins to flick through the movies.
I glance at my watch. “What time did your mother say she was coming home?”
“She’s just having dinner. Not late.”
“Has she been out with Paul from Pilates before?” I ask.
“Yes, but she has to hide from Harry. She can only go out when he’s not home, because he’s very rude and embarrassing.”
I sip my wine as I act uninterested. That evil fucker is good for something after all.
Who knew?
This isn’t their first date? What the fuck? How long has she been seeing him?
I begin to see red.
Fletcher comes rushing back into the room. “She said yes.”
“She did?”
“We’re going to get food.”
“You are?” I’m as shocked as he is. “Great.”
His eyes widen in fear. “What will I wear?”
“Oh Jesus.” I roll my eyes, and Patrick slaps his forehead. “Just wear something nice. And have a shower. Girls like dudes who smell nice.”
Fletcher stares at me, as if I am an alien. “Since when?”
I screw up my face in disgust. “What does your mother actually teach you about girls?”
“Nothing.” He widens his eyes. “She thinks I’m too young to date.”
I tip my head back to the sky in disgust. “And anyway, how come you didn’t attack Paul from Pilates? Why is she allowed to go out with him?”