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He pulls away to get a look at me. “You look buff! Have you been working out, or did you eat a house? Show me those guns!”
I laugh, then flash him a quick bicep flex.
“Dude,” is all he says, shaking his head.
I know there are a hundred eyes on us. I ignore every last one of them. “Come on, take a seat.” I gesture at the table. We sit down. He keeps staring at me with that broad, warm smile on his face. “I swear you look the same, Sky.”
He shrugs. “You, too! Even the hat!” he notes with a laugh. “How long’s it been?”
“Three years since I left the frat.”
“You mean three years since you flunked and dropped out?” he teases.
I open my mouth to reply, then find I can’t.
Skylar notices, dropping his smile at once. “Oh, shit. Dude, sorry. I didn’t mean that in an asshole kind of way. I meant—”
“No, it’s cool!” I quickly assure him. “I mean, it’s true, right? I guess college just wasn’t for me.”
“Yeah? Hey, you had better things to do.”
“Right!”
“I mean, look at you! Living it up in this city! It has to take a lot of hard work to support yourself here, doesn’t it?” he points out.
“Yeah! Well …” I shrug and let out a strained chuckle. “I guess I kinda lucked out. I’m a barista at a …” For a moment, the words “gay bookstore” sit strong on my tongue. The next moment, they’re swallowed right up and replaced with: “… an indie bookstore. Most months, it gives me enough to get by, though sometimes, I’ve had to give my rent late to Dante, my landlord. But he’s cool!” I quickly add. “Never threatens to evict me! Well, until my last roommate royally screwed me over. But I don’t have to worry about that anymore, not with my new roommate Connor who’s a fucking dream.”
Skylar takes a moment to juggle all of that into his head. “That sounds great!”
I perk up. “It is!”
He smiles. “Barista … Hmm, don’t know why I expected you to be …” He searches for the words as his bold, piercing eyes fixate on me, squinting with thought. “… a party-planner for rich assholes. Or an event host for celebrities. Or a motivational speaker, or a big personal trainer, or … something. Charisma was always your strong point.”
“Was it?”
“Yeah! Don’t pretend like you aren’t still the life of the party,” he then teases me.
“Yep, still am!” I chuckle, then rub at a spot on my head, for a moment forgetting I’ve got on a cap. “I’ve grown a lot since college, too. I’m not a total …” Why was I just about to say “loser”? I clear my throat. “College just wasn’t a fit for me. Sure, it wasn’t the social aspect that was a problem. It was the … actually-going-to-class part.”
Sky laughs and shakes his head. “I can’t count how many papers I had to write for you …”
“Hey, now! It wasn’t papers. It was math! You know I’m terrible with numbers.”
“Numbers—and words.” Skylar inclines his head toward me. “You know damned well I wrote half your papers and did your calculus homework.”
I give it a moment’s thought, then realize he’s right. “Okay, okay. Numbers and words.”
“Numbers and words.” He grins.
I can’t help but smile back, giving in.
The server comes, sets down a couple glasses of water, then takes our orders. I watch Skylar the whole time, locked on his eyes while he confidently points at his menu. He’s got the longest eyelashes that make his eyes flash with such life as he talks, even when it’s something as simple as giving his order in a restaurant. I barely pay our sweet, well-meaning server any mind as I say, “I’m having whatever he’s having,” and hand over the menu I didn’t read a word of. The server is off.
And Skylar stares at me suspiciously. “Are you sure you can handle what I got? It’s pretty sp—”
“Of course I can. So what was the news?” I ask as I cross my arms on the table.
Sky looks caught off-guard. “What? … News?”
“You said you had big news! You said it would blow my mind. What is it?”
“Oh! It’s the reason I’m here! My sister Lena, you remember her, of course. She’s getting married!”
I’m lost staring into his eyes so deeply that it takes a second for the words to register. “Lena?” I blink. “Wait … Isn’t she still in high school?”
“Dude, you do realize time passes, right?” He laughs. “She’s almost twenty-one now.”
“And already getting married?”
“Well, she’s crazy about the guy, and I wasn’t gonna risk getting my head bitten off telling her to put on the brakes. She’s a fireball.”
“Yep,” I say, remembering. “She’s a fireball.”
“You don’t tell her what to do—or else.”
“Or else!” I agree with a chuckle.
