“So what’s the bio gonna be?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the train of thought speeding down the wrong track.
North doesn’t look up. He’s still typing, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. “Already on it. Hold on.” A few more taps. Then he clears his throat, holds up the phone, and reads it out loud.
“Gavin. 19. Quiet type. Big surprise. Think you can handle it?”
5
The whole day, the messages keep coming. A constant stream of notifications. Dinging. Buzzing. Little red dots. North is more excited than I am. He reads them aloud in funny voices, cackling with laughter.
Hey cutie :)
Quiet type huh? I can make you loud
Hi Gavin!
That pic is doing things to me
U’re hot. Wanna fuck?
Omg hiiii
I like quiet guys. They're always the freakiest.
Are you really 19? You look older. In a good way
Handle it? Challenge accepted
Hey! Love your profile. What do you draw?
You had me at big surprise
Sit on my face?
My cheeks are permanently flushed. I don’t know how to respond to any of them. What do you even say to “Sit on my face?”Thank you for the offer? I’d prefer a chair?
“You have to be more proactive, Gav,” North says for the tenth time. He’s lying on my bed, socks off, bare feet propped up against the wall, scrolling through the endless stream of interest. “These girls are throwing themselves at you. All you have to do is catch.”
I never expected to be in this position. To be the one being chased. It’s North’s world. Not mine.
But I have to admit, all this attention… it’s doing something to me. I never thought this was something I could have. That I could be the object of desire. Too bad none of it matters. Because the only person I want a message from is lying on my bed right now, scrolling through my matches with his bare feet on the wall. Telling me to reply to strangers.
“I’m not very good at catching,” I mumble.
“Practice makes perfect.” He sits up straight, suddenly still. His thumb stops scrolling. His eyes go wide.
“What?” I say.
He doesn’t answer. He’s staring at the screen, his mouth hanging open. “No way.” His voice is barely a whisper. “No fucking way.”
“What, North? You’re freaking me out. What is it?”
He shoves the phone in my face. “You got a message from Staci McPherson.”
I squint at the screen. There it is. Her profile picture. Blonde hair, big smile, cheerleading uniform. And underneath:
Gavin?? I’ve seen you around campus like a million times but we’ve never actually talked. Your profile is… a lot. Surprise is an understatement :)
“And then they say girls aren’t as visual as guys,” North says, cackling. “What did I tell you? What. Did. I. Tell. You?”
