“I mean, we can make the most of it. Do you want a designated fart zone? Somewhere where you can take care of business, thus an area I know to avoid?”
She stares at me blankly. What? I thought it was a good idea. When her nose curls in disgust, I know she disagrees.
“I’d rather accidentally let one out in front of you than have you know I’m going to a designated fart zone to let loose. Jesus, that would be humiliating. Could you imagine? Me entering a taped-off zone in the living room that you should never go near in fear of . . . God, I can’t even finish the sentence.” Her eyes connect with mine and pin me with seriousness. “There will be no zone. Nothing. Do you hear me?”
“Got it. No zone.” I hold my hands up. “That was a completely useless suggestion, and I should never have brought it up.”
“Well, you don’t have to say it like that. I know you were trying to be nice, and I appreciate it, but if we can just move on from all that stuff this morning, that would be great.”
“Fair, we can do that for sure. I just have one more question.”
In a deadpanned tone, she says, “Is this about Dr. Big Pecs?”
“I just need to know how big.”
“Ugh, you’re annoying.” She takes another bite of her bun and answers, “They jut out a few good inches past his chin.”
“A few inches?” I ask incredulously. “Seriously?” I glance down at my chest and then back at Penny. “Do my pecs extend past my chin?”
She picks up her glass of water and takes a sip. “Not like Dr. Big Pecs.” She shrugs and then goes back to her cinnamon bun.
“Do men experience crazy hormones as well?” I ask. “Because I’m feeling pretty emotional and inferior about Dr. Big Pecs.”
She rolls her eyes dramatically. “His head is too small for his broad shoulders. He has a whole Beetlejuice shrinking head thing going on, so you don’t want his pecs. You are perfect as you are.”
My brows raise in surprise before I lean forward on the table. “Perfect, huh?” I waggle my eyebrows, which only causes her to shake her head at me. “Tell me more about that.”
“You’re perfect, Eli, but you could afford to learn how not to snore at night.”
I sit taller, appalled. “I do not fucking snore.”
And once again, with a grin on her face, she just shrugs her shoulders and continues to eat her cinnamon bun.
What-the-fuck-ever . . . I do not snore.
“Have you ever heard me snore?” I ask Taters as I close my notebook. We skated for an hour this morning, grabbed some food, and then sat down to review some videos. It was nauseating having to watch Remi skate around like he’s some sort of god on ice.
“What?” Taters asks as he stands from his seat.
“We used to share a hotel room. Did I ever snore?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“No reason,” I answer casually even though I feel the least bit casual about it. I need to know. After Penny’s comment, I can’t be sure if she was teasing me or not, and when I went to ask her again, she just went into the bathroom to take a shower.
It was infuriating.
Taters studies me as we make our way toward the parking lot. “She told you, you snore, didn’t she?”
“Yes.” I sigh. “But I can’t tell if she was saying it just to piss me off or if she meant it, and now I’m feeling self-conscious.”
“And we can’t have you feeling self-conscious. That would be an absolute detriment to your ego.”
“I know,” I say, causing him to laugh. “So did I snore?”
“Like you were sawing wood for an entire colony.”
“What?” I nearly shout. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Bad, man. Really bad. I considered telling you, but you were struggling that season, so I didn’t think I should pile that kind of blast to the self-esteem. But yeah, you snore, and loud.”
What the actual fuck?
Taters pats me on the back. “You got the pretty face and the talent. Something had to be wrong with you.” And then he pushes through the door to the parking lot and throws up the peace sign. “See you tomorrow.”
I tuck my notebook under my arm and go straight to my car, where I take a seat and pull up my phone. I spend the next half hour researching ways to stop myself from snoring. To hell if I’m going to be a hindrance to Penny’s sleep.
“I just don’t understand why they have to make the show so blue,” Penny says as she stands and stretches her arms above her head. My eyes immediately fall to the small patch of skin that comes into view as her shirt gently rides up her stomach. “It’s so hard to see. Don’t they watch the show themselves? Shouldn’t they be like, oh, that’s a heavy blue filter, maybe we should change that?”