Chapter Twenty-Four: Get Your Drunk Rear-end To Bed

Carley

“I don’t wanna put clothes on. The clothes you have for me are too small,” he whines while wrapping the towel around his waist.

I don’t remember the last time heard him whine, I think we were still in elementary school. He whined to my mom about not needing a bath. She tutted him and made him climb in the bathtub with me. We were maybe six or seven at the time.

I tut at him this time. “Fine, you don’t have to. But if this is going to be a regular thing, you need to bring me some of your clothes, that aren’t from seven years ago.”

“You could just come live with us,” he slurs with a yawn while I put my shirt and undies back on. He does have a point, I could go live with my Chaos Boys, but it’s still a tad too soon. We just started dating after being estranged friends.

“I could, but I’m not. At least not just yet. Let’s see where we are in a year and go from there,” I say, grabbing some antibiotic ointment to begin treating all his minor cuts along his knuckles and his face. He