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“Poo face? What the fuck is poo face?”
He makes a face that makes him look strained, his skin turning red before he relaxes.
“See, poo face. The face you make when you’re taking a shit.”
“Oh my God, what the hell is wrong with you?” I gasp out through my laughter.
“Wrong with me? Nothing. You’re the one with a poo face.”
I pick up a stray fry from my plate and lob it at him. “I do not have poo face. I just…” I pause, unsure how to say the next part.
“Freaked out because you thought I was asking you on a date, and you realized you’d never be able to handle this much manliness?” He waves a hand over his body.
“Right, yeah. Close enough.”
“I figured.” He sighs. “Being a chick magnet is exhausting. Honestly, it’s not like that with you. I can take poo face and scratch my balls without judgment. It’s actually quite refreshing.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is disturbing.”
“My point is, I don’t see you that way.” He stops and thinks before amending his sentence. “Okay, there was that one time you did the whole nearly naked walk across campus. I thought about you a lot that night and twice the next morning, but otherwise, you just don’t do it for me.”
“Okay, there is a lot here to unpack. Maybe we should just put a pin in it and go watch that movie.”
“Works for me.”
We clear off the table before heading back to the car.
“Scott?”
“Yeah?” he asks, looking at me over the roof of his car.
“Thank you.”
He winks. “Anytime.”
I smile, thankful I ran into him. He managed to turn my whole mood around. I don’t think anything can bring me down now.
Of course, I didn’t know then that I’d come back later to find papers on my already made-up bed telling me that Cain was clean of any STDs.
It stung, but not as much as learning that he started to lock his door at night. Not to lock me out. But to lock himself in.
