The Show Must Go On [boyxboy]

The Show Must Go On {12}

                “I’m not murdering anyone. Now, let’s go eat. I’ll text Bennett to leave his house now,” I said, pushing myself off of Scott’s bed.

                The two of us went downstairs, passing through his living room. His parents offered us smiles.

                “Are you going to eat, Scott?” his dad asked.

                “Yea.” He held his hand out.

                Mr. Anderson rolled his eyes. “You’re spoiled, but you’re typically too lazy to be a brat about it,” he said, pulling out his wallet and handing Scott money.

                “He’s not spoiled!” Mrs. Anderson said, hitting Mr. Anderson’s arm.

                “I’m a little spoiled,” Scott said, tucking the money in his pocket.

                “Spoiled,” I agreed.

                “You can’t talk,” Scott said. “Now, let’s go eat. I’m hungry too.”

                “Bye boys! Have fun! Scott, be safe and behave!” Mrs. Anderson said.

                “Yea, yea,” Scott said, and I followed him out of the house.

                We got in my car and I texted Bennett before driving towards the restaurant we were going to meet at. I played my music as I drove. Scott slouched down and kicked his feet up on the dashboard, folding his hands behind his head.

                “You’re lucky I let you do that,” I said.

                “You’re lucky I even get in this car. I know what you’ve done in your backseat,” he said, closing his eyes and slouching down more.

                “I put a blanket down. And I clean my car,” I said.

                “I should start slut shaming you,” he said.

                “That would be too much work,” I said.

                “Which is why I haven’t started slut shaming you,” he said. “Put on Disney music. I know you have it on your phone.”

                “Why would I play Disney music?” I asked.

                “Dude, why wouldn’t you play Disney music? Now shut up and put on Prince Ali,” he said.

                “You have hands,” I said, but unlocked my phone and played Prince Ali. “You are such a child, Scott.”

                “Hey, it’s on your phone,” he pointed out.

                I sighed and ignored that comment. A few minutes later, I parked the car, and the two of us got out. Bennett was waiting for us by the door, his arms crossed impatiently.

                “Scott is rubbing off on you,” he said as we came up to him.

                “Traffic was slowing us down,” I said. “I am not turning into Scott.”

                “What’s wrong with Scott?” Scott said.

                “You’re slow and late to everything,” Bennett said.