Last Chance

cinq

v.

Caleb paced, back and forth, and to and fro, breathing into his clenched fist while gripping his mobile with the other.

"Where are your manners?" Vince asked, taking his pesto wrap in his hands and crammed it in his mouth, hunched over to chew while the melted cheese elongated on the plate. "Come, sit," he beckoned, after swallowing his first bite, "and no devices at the table."

Caleb raised an eyebrow. "Where are yours? Shouldn't you wait for everyone to join you before you stuff your face full of that crap?"

"Hey, don't mind me," Elle said with a vague nonchalance. She had just finished cutting open a passion fruit, sliced a ripe banana and poured almond milk in the blander before she sat down on the counter top. "I don't eat after six – so have at it."

"God," Caleb said, clasping a hand over his eyes before meandering toward the dining table. "Fine, let's get on with it."

He pulled a chair out so he's opposite Vince. He set his smartphone aside to get back to later, positioning his mobile facing down, adjusted it inches this way, millimetres that from his plate.

"I thought I was the chef between you and me," he mused mirthfully before bunching his shirtsleeves a hair's inch over his elbows and digging in. He let out a sound, the undertone of it riddled with pleasurable satisfaction. His taste buds relished in the fresh basil pesto and the ripe plum vegetable that made the wrap so filling and decadent. It was served warm and grilled, right out of the pan and Caleb couldn't get enough of the seasoned chicken. "Seriously, who are you trying to impress?"

Caleb knew from their Oxford days that Vince could cook to feed himself.

But it was him, in their early to mid twenties, that would provide the soy milk and artisan bread, some pesto penne for midday and pork chops with Zinfandel when they were really treating themselves.

He glimpsed Vince's Adam's apple bob before replying, "Definitely, not you."

"Well it can't be Elle," countered Caleb, "she's already slept with you and is still sticking around which means she's delusion herself into—" he suppressed a shudder, "—wanting you."

"Truer words!" Chirped Elle from afar. Caleb casted her a brief look in time to notice she didn't even bother looking up. Instead, she scrolled her thumbs away on the screen of her mobile, the fluorescent glow highlighting her delicate features.

Caleb went on, "Me on the other hand..."

" — Have your hands full already," finished Vince before rolling his eyes. "Speaking of, I'm tired of waiting. Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"I knew you were getting antsy," said Caleb before taking another generous bite of his wrap then swallowed. "I was wondering when you were going to break."

"I wanted to give you some time to digest," Vince told him, "but it's been almost an hour and your hands have been itching to reach for that damned mobile of yours, so colour me intrigued."

Caleb reached for the tall glass of citrus to wash down his meal. "A gentleman never tells."

"Oh, fuck off with that coy shit,"

"It's called privacy, Vinny," Caleb deadpanned, "I wish to have it."

"We were way passed privacy since the moment you strong armed me into shaving the parts you couldn't reach!"

"You say that like I didn't have to return the favour,"

Vince cleared his throat and Caleb saw him swallow before he averted his gaze to Elle who was still sitting idly by, entranced in whichever trendy application. "We were in university," he said as half-baked excuse and almost defensively.