My Only Bitchy Cousin Is A Yankee-type — Guy- The...

He raised his beer. I raised my sweet tea. We didn’t clink. We just sat there, two completely different people from two completely different worlds, watching the same stars.

That was Bradley. He never learned to cool off. He just got sharper. My Only Bitchy Cousin Is a Yankee-Type Guy- The...

Turns out, Bradley’s parents didn’t talk to him. They just sent him to schools. His whole perfectly curated, bitchy little world was a fortress he’d built because nobody at his boarding school or his empty house ever said “bless your heart” and meant I love you even though you’re being an ass. He raised his beer

Aunt Patty, who had just driven four hours through Atlanta traffic, looked like she was considering using those discrete units to commit a felony. We just sat there, two completely different people

He snorted. “And you’re a menace.”

My uncle laughed. My grandmother handed him a towel and said, “You needed to cool off, honey.”

“You know,” he said, not looking at me, “the rope swing was probably fine. The fecal coliform thing. I was just scared.”