Page 50 of What We Break

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"Then drink beer."

"What if?—"

"Reid." Blake grabs my shoulders and makes me look at him. "Shut the fuck up. You're spiraling."

"I'm not spiraling."

"You've cleaned the same counter three times. You're spiraling."

I try to shrug out of his grip, but Blake holds on. "Let go of me."

"Not until you stop being insane."

"I'm not being insane, I'm being thorough."

"You reorganized the spice rack. Twice."

"It wasn't alphabetical."

"It doesn't need to be alphabetical!"

"Everything needs to be alphabetical!"

I make another attempt to break free, and somehow we end up grappling like we're twelve years old. Blake's got me in a headlock, I'm trying to elbow him in the ribs, and we're both laughing despite ourselves. We knock into the counter, nearly take out a chair, and end up stumbling into the living room.

"Say you're being ridiculous," Blake demands.

"Fuck off."

"Say it."

"You're covered in sawdust and you're getting it all over my clean kitchen."

"Our kitchen. Say you're being ridiculous or I'm not letting go."

I manage to get my arm around his neck, making him choke. "You first."

"Jesus Christ, we're not kids anymore," Blake wheezes, but he's still laughing.

"You started it."

We finally break apart, both breathing hard and grinning like idiots. Blake's hair is even messier than usual. I automatically smooth mine back down. Yep, it's just as bad.

"Better?" he asks.

"Actually, yeah."

"Good. Now go take a shower. You smell like the fucking cleaning aisle."

I'm about to argue when the doorbell rings. We both freeze.

"What time is it?" I ask.

Blake checks his watch. "Five fifty-eight."

"Shit. She's early."

"By two minutes. Answer the damn door."

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