Charis
Rhett rushed to Slater, waving the paper like a victory flag.
"Look at this! He gets the VIP treatment while we, his supposed best friends, get treated worse than his enemies!"
Since Slater's hands were wet with dishwater, he couldn't take the paper. "What does it say?" he asked.
Rhett cleared his throat dramatically and began reading in an exaggerated voice.
"Chore number one: Put the dishes in the sink after eating. Chore number two: Put your clothes in the laundry basket and chore number three—oh, this is rich—ask me for anything you want!"
Slater's mouth fell open before he burst into delighted laughter. "Are you kidding me? That's not a chore list, that's the kind of list you get when you go on vacation to an expensive resort. I'm so jealous. Kael's treating Eamon like royalty."
"I feel betrayed," Rhett said, dramatically clutching his chest. "We're supposed to be your best friends, Kael! Why didn't we get this soft, doting version of you?"
