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West observes me for a while. Then he pulls his hands off the table, brings them to his lap, and seems to make a decision. “Alright. Tell me about the dude.”
I blink. “Who?”
“Your dude at the coffee shop. C’mon, tell me.”
“The barista from Spooky Beans? Oh. He’s, uh …” Suddenly I’m awkward and blushing again. “I’m not gonna tell you about him! Why would I do that?”
“Because the mission’s the same, isn’t it?” West sits up in his chair. “Confidence. You need it. And not just for your next job interview. Don’t you see your big common denominator here?”
I bite my lip. He’s right. I don’t want to admit it.
West smirks. “You know I’m right, but you don’t want to admit it.”
My eyes flash. “Are you a mind reader now?”
“Look, it’s the same thing for me. I see a girl, like, a total bangin’ hot babe, and even I kinda lose my cool. You get all these dumb thoughts in your head. I bet you have a lot of dumb thoughts about this guy, too.”
Now I’m downright gnawing on my lip. “Well … I guess so, yeah. I just feel like a creep. Why would he be interested in a creep like me?”
“Creep? Why do you think you’re a creep?”
“I don’t know. I’m practically obsessing over him. I don’t even think I like pumpkin spice stuff.” I frown in thought. “I guess all of this obsessing over the barista would seem a lot less creepy if less of these thoughts stayed inside my head.”
“Exactly. You need to get them out. Exercise your dreams a bit. Then you instantly convert from a creep into the rest of us.” He brings his elbows to the table. “I think you just need to get this guy to go on a date with you. Make the first step.”
Me? On a date?? With Byron??? “No way.”
“Yeah, that’s what we gotta do. That’s the mission. Confidence is your answer to everything.” West smacks the table suddenly and hops to his feet. “Yep! That’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna make one confident-ass man out of you, and you’re gonna …” He seems to have trouble speaking suddenly. “… you’re gonna win that gorgeous-ass guy from Spooky’s!”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, all the good that’ll do if I can’t even pay rent.”
“You’re gonna get the job, too! You’ll get both. I got your back, bro. I’m gonna make this happen for you. Now let’s get back to class—but we’re changing the name. It’s now: Get The Guy 101!”
I smirk at him. “I thought your expertise is in girls. Not guys.”
“So? What’s the damned difference? All dudes are the same, I said it already. You’re a dude. He’s a dude. Double dude. Easy as pie. We still got this!”
“You can’t just plug-and-play advice about getting girls with guys. I don’t know if you’ve ever truly met one, but … gay guys can be fucking mean! We’re …” At once, all my repressed, negatively charged emotion comes surging forward from all my bad dates and worst exes. “We’re judgy. We’re calculating. We’re snobby.”
“Sounds like you’re the homo-hater here.”
“All I’m trying to say is that gay guys are difficult, complex, and vastly diverse. None of them are the same. If you could just spend one second in my head, you’d know that and wisely rescind your offer to help.”
He averts his eyes. “Actually …”
“What?”
“Nah. Never mind.” He laughs off whatever he was just thinking. “Anyway, yeah, I guess you’re right. I—”
“Wait. No, don’t change the subject. You were just about to say something. ‘Actually’ …?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, it’s just that I kinda overheard from someone that it’s …” He appears to be uncomfortable. “… it’s possible to, like … sort of jump into someone’s body and …” He gets up and goes to the fridge. “Nah, never mind … Dumb idea. You still got some pizza, right?”
“You mean, like … bodily possession …?”
“Forget it.”
“Like in Ghost? Like the whole Whoopi Goldberg-Patrick Swayze Ghost thing?”
“Never saw the movie. Forget it.”
I’m beside myself. “First off, that’s a whole other conversation in itself, the fact that you haven’t seen that movie. Second off, who in the hell told you about this? And second off—er, third off—what exactly were you about to propose? That you jump into my body and—?”
“Yeah. And be the confident guy you want to be. It’s like … a shortcut to teaching you. Look, I already said forget it. Besides, I don’t know how to do it, and I really don’t think it’s a good idea to try and find out, no matter who I overheard it from.”
“Why not?”
“What if we mess it all up? What if, like, I end up inside your shoe instead? Or your nut sack? I know I said this whole place might actually be Hell, but Jesus, mercy, please, I can’t spend the rest of fucking eternity in your nut sack.”
