Before Garland could react, Drake had already shoved him into the room and pinned him against the door.
Garland gulped nervously. 'What the hell? I'm not into guys.'
"What's this about? This closeness is a bit much," Garland laughed awkwardly, trying to duck.
But Drake flipped the lock with one hand and blocked his escape with the other.
Garland's heart dropped. 'Gosh! Is Drake really gay?'
"Back off! I'm straight."
"What the hell are you babbling about?"
"You dragged me here alone. Isn't it obvious you want to..."
Realization hit Drake. His face darkened, and he smacked Garland's head. "You think I'd hit on you? I'd need brain damage first."
"Why else! He has no conscience!" Garland secretly inched his way toward the door. "He was a love-stricken fool before. Perhaps, his sickness was fixed."
Drake blocked the door. "I've been observing you for a while now. Wherever Debra walks in, you're watching her like a lost puppy. That's suspicious."
Sweat dripped down Garland's neck, but he managed to shoot back, "Wait. Does that mean you've been watching her too?"
Drake froze, and Garland pointed accusingly. "Oh. You're the creep here. Admit it, you're a spy."

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