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“You’re out of your mind.”
Brandon’s leaning against the kitchen counter, red Solo cup in hand, staring at me like I just proposed we rob a bank. The Halloween party is raging one room over, bass rattling the walls, but in here it’s just us and a graveyard of empty bottles.
“I’m serious,” I say. “What, you scared?”
“Of you?” He scoffs and takes a sip. His gladiator costume is barely holding together, the leather straps digging into his shoulders where they can’t quite contain him. “I just don’t see the point.”
I lean against the counter across from him and adjust the plastic horns sliding off my head. “It’s simple. One month. Me versus you. Whoever breaks first loses.”
“And you want to do this why?”
“You said you had more discipline than me.” I smirk at him. “Prove it.”
He shakes his head. “Why do you always have to make everything a competition?”
“Because it’s fun watching you get worked up.”
“When do I ever get worked up?”
“Right now. Just the idea of me beating you.”
“You’re not beating me at shit.” He points a finger at me. “But if you’re serious about this, you really want to start on Halloween? The one night of the year every girl is at her sluttiest?”
“That’s what makes it perfect, because in…” I check my phone. “Twelve minutes, it’ll be November. No Nut November. That’s our starting line.”
He studies me for a long moment, pushing his dark hair off his forehead. Then he throws back the rest of his beer in one practiced motion. Crushes the cup in his fist. “You’re not going to win this, you know.”
That’s the thing about Brandon. He can’t back down from a challenge. We’ve been roommates for two years, best friends since the day he moved in, and I’ve learned it’s his biggest weakness. That, and the fact he’s a total horndog. He doesn’t stand a chance.
“Alright.” He cracks his knuckles, one hand at a time, the way he does before a game. “Let’s set the rules.”
“There’s just one rule. You come, you lose.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. Doesn’t matter how. Jerking off, fucking a girl, humping your pillow at 3 a.m. You bust, you’re done.”
“So if a girl’s blowing me—”
“As long as you don’t finish.”
“That’s cruel, Dyl.”
“I thought you had discipline.”
“How do we even prove it?”
“Honor system. We check in. Be honest. You crack, you crack.” I shrug. “No shame in losing. Only the shame of knowing I outlasted you.”
“You’re not outlasting me, bro.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Stakes,” Brandon says. “What do I get when you lose?”
“When I lose? Love the confidence.” I take a swig of my beer. “Bragging rights.”
