“Why, because I’m gay?” he deadpans, and my expression immediately falls.
“What? No! Because of the nail polish and the tattoo.” I gesture to his forearm where his sleeve is pushed up to reveal the edges of a tattoo. I can’t see it, but I’m curious what it is. Shit, maybe he does think I’m homophobic? “I don’t know. I wasn’t… I didn’t mean anything offensive. I don’t care who people are attracted to. Love is love.”
He blinks at me a few times before finally snorts a laugh. “Sure, whatever you say. Guess I can take homophobic off my list of strikes against you.”
“Wait, what list?” Seriously, what could I have done for there to be a whole fucking list?
“Forget it,” he mutters, and then before I can push, he answers my previous question. “I’m a communications major.”
I really want to ask about this list and why it exists at all, but he doesn’t seem very open to a constructive conversation right now, so maybe I’m better off focusing on the assignment. “Does that mean you’ll get us an A on this project then?” I ask with a hesitant smile.
“You know, now that I think about it, debating with you does actually sound kind of fun. I can’t wait to prove you wrong in front of everyone.” He grins, and same.
Except if I’m being honest, I’m a little more focused on figuring out why he hates me so much. Maybe as we’re working on this I’ll be able to prove to him I’m not whoever he thinks I am, but I don’t see that happening today.
He’s all business now as he returns his focus to the list of topics. “So, what high school question are you looking at?”
“The uniform thing is pretty overdone. Maybe requiring volunteer hours? Or is that one an obvious answer, too? I don’t know why that would be a bad thing.”
“I do,” he argues immediately. “Some high schoolers have enough pressure without adding unpaid labor to it. We can do that one, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
His answer sounds personal, and I don’t know him well enough to ask yet, but for some reason, I really want to know more about his life. “Works for me. When are you available to meet up? I have weight lifting at six a.m. before classes Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. We might be able to schedule something between lectures. I also have afternoon lacrosse practice most days at four. If you want to give me your schedule, I can figure out our availability.”
“I work Sunday mornings, and Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday after classes. What’s your number? I’ll text it to you.”
Clearly, he’s only asking for the project, but it feels like a positive step when he’s been so frosty. I give him my number, and he sends me his schedule for the rest of the month.
“Do we even really need to get together, though?” he asks as I start to look for when we’re both free. “We’re giving opposing speeches, right? It seems like we can prepare for that on our own.”
I don’t like the sound of that at all. How am I supposed to prove to him that I’m not the bad person he thinks I am if we don’t spend any time together outside of this class? “Well, I think we should make sure we cover the same topics so it seems organized…” I trail off as I realize he’s right, that could probably be done in an email, so I blurt out, “But I was also hoping you’d help me practice.”
“Practice? Are you afraid of public speaking?”
“Yes! That,” I quickly agree, latching onto the excuse even if it isn’t exactly true. “I was hoping we could practice so I’m less nervous during the actual speech.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, whatever. I don’t want you bringing down my grade. Let me know when to meet you. Are we good for today then? Should we go have her approve the topic before anyone else takes it?”
I breathe a sigh of relief that he’s agreed and nod. We talk to the professor and confirm our topic, and Porter leaves without another word.
I have a feeling this will be the most interesting partner project I’ve ever done. Besides, I’ve always enjoyed a challenge, and winning Porter over, becoming friends even, seems like a fun challenge to focus on.
5
PORTER
“Ugh, he’s already here,” I mutter to my friend and coworker, Dom. I still have about ten minutes before I can clock out, but I was hoping Will would forget about his plans to meet me.
“Why do you hate him again?” Dom whispers.
“Because he’s a jerk. Quiet or he’ll hear you,” I hiss as Will approaches. Dom laughs as he walks away, leaving me to take Will’s order.Rude.I attempt a forced customer-service smile as he approaches the register. “What can I get for you today?”
“Hey, man! This place is cool. I’ve never been here before.”
I nod in the way I usually do when customers tell me something that has absolutely nothing to do with their order. I guess I should say something, though, because this is my job. “The coffee is pretty good.”
“Awesome. I’m not really picky, though. Caffeine is caffeine, right?” He smiles with his whole face, and I try to ignore how attractive he is, especially as he says something as insane as that.
“Um, no. Good coffee isveryimportant. I can’t imagine where I’d be without it.”
