He slides the condom off and drops it on the floor. He has the good manners to smile as he wipes himself clean with a corner of the sheet. “Morning, Dave.”
“Drew,” I correct him. Like it matters.
He shrugs without embarrassment. Hey, it was last call.
“That was fun,” he goes on to say. Whether it’s true or not is hardly the point.
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for letting me crash.”
“Any time.”
He spares me a lascivious laugh. As if any such reference to another time might be appropriate.
He’s on his feet and looking for his clothes when I offer him breakfast. I need runny eggs, bacon, and Tabasco, and pronto. There’s not more to it than that. I’m not trying to cling to anything, I assure myself. I got cold-shouldered by Esau and deserted by Nick within the span of two minutes last night—a No, T
