Jun 8
@davin-holiday
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@davin-holiday
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@davin-holiday
"Come on Dav," he said with disbelief, giving his brother a look conveying as much. "You're still gonna sit there and tell me you two are just friends?"
He glanced out at the dance floor at the couples enjoying themselves. Couples. People who came together as dates. For the whole town to see and know they were at least considering the partner. Same as his brother and Ruth. And yet Davin still sat there, next to him at their table, eating and drinking and having a merry ole' time, like that didn't matter.
"You know you can still be friends with her and be more? Just look at me and Dec," he added, taking a drink of his beer.
@davin-holiday
"I'm not saying you won't hit the bottles," he defended of his assessment of the game he and his brother stood in front of. Davin obviously had a good arm. His professional athletic career was proof enough. But Vincent knew this shit was rigged. Every year they tried to clear the trio of bottles from the tiny table they were stacked on and every year they failed miserably, draining their pockets in the process. "I'm just saying, they screw us every year. There has to be something better to waste our money on this go 'round. What about the garage sale or kissing booth? Asher is just your type," he teased his brother with a nudge.
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