little. It wasn’t only Wyatt’s personality that was prickly.
“No shit. You totally did?” Connor shut his laptop.
“You said it like you knew.” And I’d just busted myself.
“I was only kidding. Because of your green shirt.” He pointed at my henley. “You know, you wear green on Thursday if you’re horny and wear green on Friday if you got some. But now you’re busted.”
I sat on my bed.
“So, ex-sex or rebound?”
“Uh—” I didn’t think of Wyatt as a rebound guy, or one of those just-wanting-to-get-off guys from back before Blake.
Connor stretched his arm across the space between our beds, offering his closed fist. I pounded him back.
“S’all good.” Connor stretched out on his bed again. “You were really letting down the side.”
Connor watched a lot of British comedy.
“The side?” I got what the expression meant, but I couldn’t figure out what side we were both on.
“Dudes. I’d think guys were—you know—easier. You can hook up without complications. You should be getting laid all the time.”
Guys were plenty complicated. And I’d done all the casual hand jobs and blow jobs I wanted to do before I started going out with Blake. “What about you? You seem to be keeping up the side.”
Connor’s face got red. “Not as much as I want to. My high school girlfriend and I broke up because we were going to different schools. I’ve been stuck in a dry spell.”
I’d been so caught up in my own trauma, it never occurred to me that Connor had gone through something too. He was a nice guy, never joked about gay being gross or suggested I was looking at his junk. And since the first day when he’d boldly dropped trou before putting on a robe and heading for the showers, I’d worked super hard to not ever see his junk. I couldn’t even tell you if he was cut or not.
“Amy?” I could try to make up for being a sucky, self-absorbed roommate now.
“We’re going out tonight. Some indie band she wants to see in the town park.”
Connor’s taste in music was varied, assuming you could discern between the different subgenres of metal he listened to, always considerately with headphones on.
I winced in sympathy. “Maybe it’ll be folk metal.”
“Their name is Peace From the Cycle.”
“Oh.” So maybe straight guys did have to suffer to get laid. “Well, after that I hope you get lucky.”
“Thanks. Um, do you know about the code for—”
“Like a sock on the doorknob?”
“Yeah.” He sounded relieved. “Not saying anything will happen.”
“No, it’s cool.”
He swung around to jab my knee with a sock-covered toe. “‘Specially since you already got some.”
* * *
In an effort to make myself scarce, I agreed to go with Makayla to the soccer game. It was apparently a big deal—Coborn’s archrivals in the league or whatever. I figured the odds of seeing Blake were slim since he’d be totally focused on the game—match, whatever.
Since Whitney had turned zombie, we had to meet her inside the stadium, which was a safe zone. She and Makayla had an agreement that if they were heading out together, Whitney would give her a two-minute head start.
Coborn didn’t have a football team so the soccer team was the big fucking deal as far as fall sports went. I heard they had a good wrestling team, and the idea of muscular guys in superthin singlets tangled together sounded like free live porn. I knew what I’d be checking out over the winter. I’d been to every soccer match Blake played over the two years in high school so I understood the basic rules. I couldn’t always figure out whether something should or shouldn’t have been a foul, but I knew good ball-handling when I saw it. Yeah, go ahead and laugh at that for a second.
We managed to find some seats in the student section, squeezing in on the bleachers. Makayla had half her ass in my lap, but I didn’t mind because it was a cold night. A perfect fall night that makes everything look sharp
“No shit. You totally did?” Connor shut his laptop.
“You said it like you knew.” And I’d just busted myself.
“I was only kidding. Because of your green shirt.” He pointed at my henley. “You know, you wear green on Thursday if you’re horny and wear green on Friday if you got some. But now you’re busted.”
I sat on my bed.
“So, ex-sex or rebound?”
“Uh—” I didn’t think of Wyatt as a rebound guy, or one of those just-wanting-to-get-off guys from back before Blake.
Connor stretched his arm across the space between our beds, offering his closed fist. I pounded him back.
“S’all good.” Connor stretched out on his bed again. “You were really letting down the side.”
Connor watched a lot of British comedy.
“The side?” I got what the expression meant, but I couldn’t figure out what side we were both on.
“Dudes. I’d think guys were—you know—easier. You can hook up without complications. You should be getting laid all the time.”
Guys were plenty complicated. And I’d done all the casual hand jobs and blow jobs I wanted to do before I started going out with Blake. “What about you? You seem to be keeping up the side.”
Connor’s face got red. “Not as much as I want to. My high school girlfriend and I broke up because we were going to different schools. I’ve been stuck in a dry spell.”
I’d been so caught up in my own trauma, it never occurred to me that Connor had gone through something too. He was a nice guy, never joked about gay being gross or suggested I was looking at his junk. And since the first day when he’d boldly dropped trou before putting on a robe and heading for the showers, I’d worked super hard to not ever see his junk. I couldn’t even tell you if he was cut or not.
“Amy?” I could try to make up for being a sucky, self-absorbed roommate now.
“We’re going out tonight. Some indie band she wants to see in the town park.”
Connor’s taste in music was varied, assuming you could discern between the different subgenres of metal he listened to, always considerately with headphones on.
I winced in sympathy. “Maybe it’ll be folk metal.”
“Their name is Peace From the Cycle.”
“Oh.” So maybe straight guys did have to suffer to get laid. “Well, after that I hope you get lucky.”
“Thanks. Um, do you know about the code for—”
“Like a sock on the doorknob?”
“Yeah.” He sounded relieved. “Not saying anything will happen.”
“No, it’s cool.”
He swung around to jab my knee with a sock-covered toe. “‘Specially since you already got some.”
* * *
In an effort to make myself scarce, I agreed to go with Makayla to the soccer game. It was apparently a big deal—Coborn’s archrivals in the league or whatever. I figured the odds of seeing Blake were slim since he’d be totally focused on the game—match, whatever.
Since Whitney had turned zombie, we had to meet her inside the stadium, which was a safe zone. She and Makayla had an agreement that if they were heading out together, Whitney would give her a two-minute head start.
Coborn didn’t have a football team so the soccer team was the big fucking deal as far as fall sports went. I heard they had a good wrestling team, and the idea of muscular guys in superthin singlets tangled together sounded like free live porn. I knew what I’d be checking out over the winter. I’d been to every soccer match Blake played over the two years in high school so I understood the basic rules. I couldn’t always figure out whether something should or shouldn’t have been a foul, but I knew good ball-handling when I saw it. Yeah, go ahead and laugh at that for a second.
We managed to find some seats in the student section, squeezing in on the bleachers. Makayla had half her ass in my lap, but I didn’t mind because it was a cold night. A perfect fall night that makes everything look sharp
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