You Say It First - Katie Cotugno Page 0,51
I’m asking you to explain it to me.”
Colby grimaced. She clearly did understand the conceit of the joke, whatever that meant, but he got what she was doing. It was kind of an epic troll. He might have admired it, except for the part where it was making everything super fucking uncomfortable. Micah could be a boner sometimes, sure, but there was no point in ruining the night every time he said some jackass thing.
“All right, Hillary Clinton,” Micah said. “Didn’t mean to offend your delicate sensibilities.”
“Uh-oh,” Colby said. That was all he needed right now, for the two of them to get into some fucking debate about Benghazi or something and then they’d really be off to the races. God, he’d known bringing Meg around his friends was a bad idea from the very beginning, but still it was weird to see it play out, like watching a car wreck in slow motion when he was also somehow the one behind the wheel. “Let’s not bring politics into this.”
Meg ignored him. “Is that supposed to insult me?” she asked Micah, her voice a click higher than normal. “Calling me that? Like, in your mind, is that something that should make me feel embarrassed or shut me up?”
“It’s not supposed to do anything,” Micah said, shrugging violently. She was rattling him, Colby could tell. He thought of the first night he’d ever talked to Meg on the phone, that feeling of the ground shifting unexpectedly under his feet. He felt sorry for Micah, a little, thought mostly he just felt annoyed. “I’m just saying, you’re kind of a snowfl—”
“Don’t even say it,” Meg interrupted. “Seriously, buddy, I’m going to just go ahead and save you from yourself right—”
“Moran,” Micah said, “control your woman, will you?”
Oh, shit.
“I’m not his woman,” Meg said immediately, her sharp gaze cutting in Colby’s direction for the briefest of seconds. Joanna, who until now had been mostly engaged in a side conversation with her frizzy-haired friend Kylah, whipped around to look at them both. “And he doesn’t think you’re funny, either.”
“He doesn’t?” Micah asked. “’Cause you know him so well, right?”
“I know him better than you do, clearly.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Colby said weakly—trying, and mostly failing, to make a joke of this whole thing. “Don’t get me involved.”
“Dude, you brought her here,” Micah pointed out.
“I brought myself, actually,” Meg told him. “And—”
“Hey, Mike,” Joanna jumped in, kicking Micah lightly in the ankle and flapping her hand so he’d help her up off the yellow curb. “Speaking of beers, I need another. Come on, I’ll open one for you and everything.” And then somehow without even making a show of it she was leading him off across the parking lot like the Mother Teresa of awkward situations, though not before Micah muttered a few choice words under his breath.
Once they were gone, Meg blew a breath out, scooping her hair off her neck like she’d just run an invigorating relay race and now required a cool beverage and someone to congratulate her on her stamina and perseverance. “Well, that was charming,” she said with a shake of her head. “Is he always like that?”
For a moment, Colby just stood there dumbly like a cow you could see from the highway, like flies were going into his mouth. “Is he always like that?” he echoed. “Seriously?”
“Wait a second.” Meg’s eyes flashed. “You’re mad at me right now?”
“Of course I’m mad at you.”
“You are?” Meg looked sincerely baffled. “Why?”
“I—because,” Colby said, momentarily losing his ability to string a coherent thought together. “Because! You can’t just . . . come in here in your ridiculous T-shirt and start shitting all over my friends.”
Meg’s eyes narrowed. “First of all,” she countered immediately, “it’s not shitting all over your friends to point out when a joke is sexist. And second of all, what’s wrong with my T-shirt?”
Colby blew a breath out. “It’s not about your T-shirt.”
“Isn’t it?” Meg asked. “Because you’re, like, the third person to be an asshole to me about it since I got here, so I’m starting to wonder.” She rolled her eyes. “Literally all I did was ask him to explain why he thought his joke was funny, Colby. It’s not my fault he couldn’t do it. And it’s not like I told him he was an idiot to his face.”
“You kind of did, actually.”
“I absolutely did not, which I actually thought showed pretty admirable restraint on my part, since—”
“Can you stop?” Colby broke in. “You sound like