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20. Meet Not Cute

20

Meet Not Cute

We follow the firelight across the field. I’m glad I listened to Wanda and put on the pair of jeans that were slung over the back of my desk chair. While the shorts are very flattering to my derrière, she was right: I don’t want to be providing a Bobby buffet to a bunch of insects.

“Thanks for advising against eyeliner,” I say to Wanda. “I would have looked like a raccoon.”

Wanda takes the baseball cap off her own head and places it on mine. She considers it before reaching up and turning it backward. She wrinkles her nose and turns the cap forward again but skews it on an angle. “Better,” she says. “You’re giving off a barely legal jock vibe.”

“Eww. Such a gross description. Couldn’t you have given me your hat before I spent fifteen minutes styling my hair?”

Wanda teases me about being only a few hours into eighteen as we approach the fires and the figures around them start to take on more distinct shapes. When we get close enough to make out faces, a familiar person greets us.

“Bobby and Wanda. Together as usual,” Evie says from where she’s positioned herself beside Luke on a log around one of the firepits. “You must be joined at the hip.”

A girl I’ve never met sitting across the fire says, “You can’t say stuff like that.” She upspeaks when she talks. “It’s offensive.”

Evie asks, “How?”

“I shouldn’t have to explain it to you. Your ableism is not attractive.”

As Evie starts arguing with the girl, Luke slips away.

“I didn’t know if you were still coming since you didn’t text me back,” he says.

“I didn’t get any texts.” I check my phone. It’s almost dead and went into battery-saving mode, limiting functionality.

“Did you bring a portable charger?” I ask Wanda.

“It’s in the purse you told me not to bring,” she replies.

Great. My phone is basically unusable.

“No worries.” Wanda holds up her phone. “Mine is at full battery.”

Luke jerks his head toward another fire. “Come on. I want you to meet my other roommates.” He leads us through the darkness to another group of college kids.

“You already know Jerome and his girlfriend, Mya,” Luke says, gesturing to the new couple who barely look up from making out on their blanket in the grass. “And this is Roger. I don’t know where Jack got to, but he might have gone back already.”

Roger gets up from the group of people he’s sitting with to come over to us. He might as well have walked out of a catalogue. His face is perfectly symmetrical, his jawline square, his hair has the right amount of product and volume, and the fact that he must go to the gym daily is apparent. He’s holding an obscenely large beer can.

“This is Bobby. And you remember Wanda from camp,” Luke says.

“We went to middle school together,” Roger says. “Before I went to the private arts high school. Have you been well, Bobby?”

The way he asks reminds me why I never liked Roger. We were the only two out boys in middle school, so everyone thought we should not only be friends, but boyfriends. Except Roger was a colossal snob, constantly referring to himself as a thespian and talking about how many buildings his parents own around town and how much tuition for his arts high school was going to be. I’d bet Roger’s family not only owns the house Luke lives in but most of the properties on the block.

“Great,” I reply.

“Same. One might even say a dream. A Midsummer Night’s Dream . You’ve probably heard I’ve been cast,” Roger wastes no time telling me.

I want to gag but Luke starts giggling.

“He’s Bottom,” Luke says.

Wanda and Luke burst out in laughter.

Roger rolls his eyes. “You two are so juvenile. Grow up.”

“He’s playing the ass.” Luke wipes at his eyes as he and Wanda try to contain their giggles.

I hold back a grin. “No. Not a full ass. He’ll only have the head of one.”

“Asshead.” Wanda and Luke laugh harder, not trying to cover it up anymore.

Roger’s not smiling even a bit. “Such base humor. It isn’t that funny.”

“No, it is,” I say as Luke and Wanda regain their composure. “Shakespeare used base humor in all his plays. He knew it appealed to the masses, and, as much as the aristocracy might not admit it, they probably found it funny too. Being an asshead can only be a completely intentional choice.”

Luke and Wanda crack up again.

“I see you know the Bard,” Roger says. I can’t tell from his tone if it’s a compliment or a throwdown.

I plant both my feet firmly and tilt my head. “A little bit. My mom and uncle have been bringing me to Shakespeare in the Park every year since I can remember. The histories aren’t really my jam. They’re a bit dry.”

“I can’t get enough of them. I’d kill to play Richard III,” Roger says.

I start to laugh but no one else does. “That wasn’t meant to be a joke?”

Awkward silence. I open my mouth to explain, but Roger beats me to it.

“I get it. Because Richard murders to get the throne.”

Wanda and I share a sidelong glance. She was never a Roger fan either.

“I’m going to say hi to some gaming friends over there,” Wanda says, waving toward a nearby fire.

“I’ll grab us drinks. Water, Bobby?” Luke asks.

I nod. Luke leaves Roger and I together.

Roger turns so half his face is illuminated. “You two have been spending a lot of time together.”

The way Roger delivers his line, I know there’s intention behind the words. I tread carefully. “We’re becoming friends.”

Roger takes a swig from his beer. “I remember when you tried to befriend me.”

This time I catch his meaning. “This shouldn’t come as news. I never had a thing for you. You’re not my type.” I know they’re fighting words but can’t help but add, “At all.”

Roger’s eyes glint with fire. “Glad you cleared that up. We wouldn’t want any misunderstandings.” Rogers pauses a beat too long before he says, “Like you being Luke’s type either.”

I might be caught off guard if Roger weren’t still so Roger , but this is a battle of words and words are my Thunderdome. Without thinking, I say, “Duh. Luke isn’t even into guys.”

Roger crosses his arms. “Everyone knows Luke is into everyone.”

Everyone? I fumble for something to say.

Roger swoops in when I don’t reply immediately. “It’s no secret. He doesn’t hide he’s pan. He said he told you.”

I wrack my brains trying to think when Luke might have told me. The only even remote thing he said was about liking content over the cover treatment. But Luke can’t think that conversation was clear in conveying a double meaning. Or was that his way of telling me something private? Maybe Wanda was right, and Luke has been feeling me out all along.

Roger pretends to laugh. “Funny how history repeats itself. Like me in middle school, Luke isn’t interested.”

“You’ll make the perfect asshead,” I say. I move forward, bumping Roger with my shoulder intentionally as I pass him. His beer slops out the top of the can onto his shirt. Roger seems to think there’s something there too or he wouldn’t be trying to scare me off. I keep going and don’t stop to look back.

Bobby Ashton doesn’t scare easily. But I’m not sure what to do with Luke being pansexual. Was he trying to get me to give him the green light all along? Do I even want to? I like Luke and the way he blinks and his hidden smile. But do I like him? And now that I know he could like me back, how do I act around him?

I move faster. I need Wanda.