MITCHELL, HOT BUNS
Normally I enjoy my two days off, but this time they really seemed to drag. I love my job, and have grown accustomed to the two days on, two days off schedule. This time though? Ugh. I don’t know what my problem is. No, I do. If I stop lying to myself, I know exactly why. I’m just too fucking embarrassed to admit it because I’m supposed to be a fucking adult.
So is he.
We’re also supposed to be best friends.
Trey is renovating his house, an old Victorian in need of modernization and a facelift. I’ve been helping him on our days off. I didn’t go there this time, and he never once reached out to ask me why. Ever since that night, I think we’ve said four words total to one another. And those had to do with work.
Ever since we met her. I know he liked her, just like I did. I haven’t done anything further, because of our friendship. But it’s pissing me off, for no logical reason. We exchanged few words, and only spent a brief amount of time with her. Yet I haven’t stopped thinking about her for even one second. I have now opted for blue balls, instead of blisters on my hands. The jerking off is getting ridiculous. If I had to guess, he’s feeling much the same.
As I approach the firehall, I see a bunch of the crew standing around the front table. It’s hard to understand what anyone is saying, since they’re mouths are stuffed full.
“So good!” “Fucking hot and can bake!” “I’m going to marry her!” “Holy shit, I’m in love!” Whatever they’re eating, it’s a hit. Closer inspection reveals cinnamon buns; one tray with raisins, one without. One of our rescues must have brought them as a thank you, a kind gesture we always appreciate. No way I’m missing out on cinnamon buns! Shit, they’re still warm! So gooey, best I have ever tasted. Trey is here now, grabbing one too. Neither of us say anything to the other, but I realize I’ve missed my friend. We need to clear this up, talk it out. After breakfast.
With one last swallow, Moe, one of the guys turns to me, then points to Trey. “You guys just missed her. She was asking for you two.” Both Trey and I stop instantly, frozen like fucking statues. She? Could it be? Then the dumbass turns and starts walking away. Uh, no fuckface. I need more information. Before I can reach him, Trey almost knocks him over. “Christ man!”
“Sorry Moe, I must have tripped.” Trey is brushing it off, but his anxiousness is blatant. At least, to me. “You were saying someone was looking for me?” Not you, asshole. Us. I happily point out his mistake, and he sneers. I don’t think either of us are pulling off being casual very well. Moe is looking at us like we’re morons.
“Yeah, hot dish. Phew! Five alarm fire hot!” He continues in this line, and I’m not appreciating it. The only boy in a family of six children, I was raised to respect women, not objectify them.
And if it is her, he’s talking about, I’m going to punch him.