04. Meet My Friends, Kiss Ass

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     "There she is," Ian says with a wide smile of his. His black hair was shaggy over his eyes now.

I got into the car by Cameron and Gideon got in on Cameron's over side.

Ian, Ray, and Cameron are my only friends. Ian and Ray were brothers, but Cameron went to a different school than them. But they've known one another since fifth grade, and I've known them since sophomore year. But then I moved again. Twice.

"And who is this, JJ?" Cameron asks, wiggling his eyebrows and smirking slightly. It was such a Cameron thing to do.

His skin was mixed, his hair curly, (to the point where I could braid it and when I did, he couldn't get it out because of how curly it was so he had to cut it off), and had glasses now. He couldn't take a bad photo. Never had any pores, either. He was just seriously the most beautiful boy I've ever seen.

I roll my eyes. "This is Grayson."

"Gideon," he corrects.

"Well, whatever your name is, meet my friends, kiss ass," I tell him.

"Woah, woah, woah," Ian says. "You brought someone? More than that— you brought a scrawny shit show? That's like— against the rules."

"What rules?" And what the hell was he talking about? He was scrawnier than Gideon. Cameron and Ray were the only muscular ones here.

"We have rules."

"We do not."

"Well— you're breaking them."

"I'm breaking imaginary rules," I deadpan.

"You could have told us you were bringing someone," Ian says.

"Jealous? Don't worry, you're still my number one bitch," I say, leaning across the seat to kiss his cheek.

Ian and Cameron dated for like a year. They broke up six months ago, and Ian's still a little bit hurt over it. But Cameron was living the life. I pitied Ian because I knew he would leave the house and get drunk almost every night.

He rolls his eyes.

"Gideon's... nice," I choke out. God, I'd rather kill myself than keep complimenting him.

"Nice?" Ray asks. "You brought him here so he could be nice?"

"I'm right here," Gideon says.

"He can be funny, too... when he's not uptight," I tell the guys.

Cameron sighs. "It doesn't matter," he admits. "Just tell us next time?"

I don't know why I don't tell them that I didn't have a choice. I don't know why I don't throw Gideon under the bus and back over him.

But I nod. "Totally."

"Where exactly are we going?" Gideon asks. You can practically taste his nervousness from a mile away.

"Relax, pretty boy," Ian says, resting a hand on the top of the wheel. I think Gideon gulped. "We're not going to a strip club."

He spots the beer cans in the cup holsters. "Should you be driving? I mean I can take over—"

"Gideon," I interrupt, glaring at him. "Please, just... relax."

Ray reaches back from his spot in the passenger seat to give Gideon a can of beer. Gideon just stares at it, his eyes flicking from the can, to Ray's face.

"Ray, come on," I say, pushing the drink away from Gideon. "We're staying sober tonight."

"Sober? You." Ray snorts. "That's rare."

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