Hands raised in surrender, Lynd backed down. “Again, I don’t know them. Just heard some shit. It’s probably petty Pride gossip anyway.”
His curiosity was stronger now, but friends—real friends—didn’t gossip about other friends. And he wanted to be Cya’s friend. They were always alone when they walked through campus, and the seat beside them in math class had been empty all semester until Dex had started sitting there. Maybe they needed a friend, even if they pretended like they didn’t.
Sure, they acted all tough and aloof, but he’d seen the surprised pleasure on their face when he’d complimented their jewelry-making, the genuine smile that had curled their thin lips. It might have been the first time he’d actually seen them smile, fleeting as it was, and it had been nice, pretty even.
They had a dimple on their left cheek, and he wondered how many people knew about it. Since they spent most of their time frowning, he felt safe assuming not many.
They were prickly and covered in thorns, but the way he saw it, no one was ice all the way through. They just needed a bit of warmth to melt the harsh edges and get to their gooey center. Dex had a feeling Cya had the gooiest center of all.
“Dude, what’s wrong with your face?” Lynd asked through a layer of disgust.
Blinking away thekrimpitrail his thoughts had tumbled down, he turned to his friend. “What?”
“Your face. It’s… gross.”
“I get you’re not into guys, but you don’t have to make it personal,” Dex said, reaching up to touch his cheek. “My face isn’t gross.”
Her nose wrinkled, whiskers twitching. “That expression was, though. It was all… dreamy or something.”
“I wasn’t dreaming. I was thinking about Cya’s gooey center.”
She shuddered and gagged. “Ew, Dex! Just because we’re both into pussy doesn’t mean I want to hear about you interacting with one.”
“First off, that’s got to be heterophobic or something,” he muttered.
“That’s not a thing,” Lynd said.
He ignored her. “Secondly, me and Cya aren’t boning, okay? I’m their math tutor, co-worker, and soon-to-be best friend because destiny has brought us together, and I will never disobey destiny.”
“Somehow, that’s the gayest thing I’ve ever heard, and I literally made my girlfriend scream, ‘Yes, mommy, get me pregnant,’ last night,” she deadpanned.
With a bark of laughter, he lifted his hand. “Alright! Lesbian sex high-five?”
“Nowthatactually is homophobic, but also…” With a shrug, she slapped her palm to his. “Sometimes, I wonder how I even became friends with a straight frat bro like you.”
Technically, he wasn’t in a frat, but he let it slide. “Because my gooey center is all of me, and you can’t resist, nor escape, the sticky.”
“I can’t decide whether I’m more grossed out by that mental image or impressed that you used the wordnorcorrectly in a sentence.”
“What can I say? I got layers. Like a cake.” He sat up straighter, eyes wide. “And it works on numerous levels because cakes are gooey and sticky too! Damn, I’m suavving this conversation so hard.”
“Suavving?” Lynd echoed, and Dex nodded.
“Yeah, the present particular of suaveness.”
Cupping his cheek, she smiled fondly at him. “Aw, there’s the Dex I know and love. Never change.”
BythetimeDex’sfinal class of the evening finished, the sun had already set, bathing Pride University in twilight. The twin moons were obscured behind heavy clouds, and he inhaled deeply, smelling the impending rain on the breeze.
As he neared the tram stop, he noticed a figure curled up on the bench, reading a book, and he instantly recognized their long hair, glimmering gold earrings, and thick tail. Like they’d been waiting for him, Cya quickly tucked their book away in their computer bag before they stood, their tail straightening and locking to support their weight.
Their fingers tightened on the strap of their bag as they leveled Dex with what Lynd had delicately coined their ”resting bitch face.” Gone was the dimple in their left cheek and the hesitant softness they’d displayed on the train that afternoon. Instead, they were ice again, stiff and awkward.
“Hey, Cya,” he said as he came to a stop before them. “What’s up?”
“I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes,” they said, a hint of frost to their tone.
“For”—he studied their surroundings—“me?”
