𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑳𝒊𝒏𝒆

27. 𝑩𝑳𝑨𝑲𝑬

    "But if you had to choose," Jase insists I answer his ridiculous question as he ravages the fridge. "Gun to your head."

I cross my arms, sunken deep into the couch, Dorothy sleeping on my lap. "You're not letting this go, are you?"

He closes the fridge and stalks into the living room with a can of Easy Cheese. "Gun. To your head." He points the nozzle at me.

    "Fuck it, man." I decide in the moment. "Giant duck."

He lowers the can, visibly irritated as he runs his fingers through his hair. "What's your logic? A giant duck would squash you."

"A hundred little ones would slowly peck me to death," I counter.

"But you'd have a higher chance of survival." He raises the can and tilts his head back, filling his mouth with an unhealthy amount of cheese.

"If I'm living in a world where giant ducks are just roaming around, I'd rather not live in it."

He drops his shoulders and gulps down the cheese. "They're not just roaming around. It's one singular giant duck."

I shrug. "I could take one duck."

    Jase shakes his head. "I don't think you're grasping just how giant it is."

    "How giant are we talking?" I screw up my face.

    "Fifty feet. At least." He crosses his arms.

    "Well, see that changes things," I decide to agree with him in the hopes of ending this conversation on a high note. Though I still think I could take one fucking duck.

"That's what I'm saying!" His eyes widen with a new excitement. "Easy Cheese?" He offers.

I shake my head. "That shit's gonna kill you."

    He rolls his eyes and sprays another mouthful just as the front door flies open and Camille bursts in. Her golden hair is a tousled mess, face flushed pink. Her shoulders lower slightly when she spots us. "Good, you're both here. We need help."

"With?" Jase asks, the word barely comprehendible as he struggles to gulp.

    "Fallon," she says.

"What's wrong?" I carefully lift Dorothy off my lap and set her down beside me.

Camille exhales sharply. "She had a bit too much to drink, and she's being difficult. We need help getting her inside. Any volunteers?" She looks at me, brows raised.

I glance at Jase and he shrugs, shaking the can some more. He takes a step back as if gesturing for me to deal with her, which I had every intention of doing, to begin with. So I walk past him and follow Camille out to the driveway.

Immediately, I see Fallon sitting on the pavement by Steph's car, legs stretched out in front of her, humming some old lullaby I vaguely recognize while she rummages through her purse.

    Steph's hovering over her, hands on her hips, impatient foot tapping the ground as she leans her weight on one hip. She sighs and reaches down for Fallon's arm. "This isn't funny. Just get up."

    Fallon grunts and pulls away from Steph.

"Why is she on the floor?" I ask.

"She said it's comfortable." Camille crosses her arms.

Steph's head perks up at the sound of my voice, and she rolls her eyes. "I'm going inside. You deal with her." She sounds irritated as she storms past me, muttering something under her breath.