9. Gabby
“You didn’t invite him to come inside!” Tasha hisses at me from across the lunch table.
I chew, swallow, and answer her. “Who?”
She waggles her brows. “Seth.”
I set my fork down. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“He fought over you, you went to his apartment, and then he walked you home, at which point you left him standing in the hallway!” She hisses the last four words, looking over her as though she’s afraid someone has heard her.
“And?” I shove another fry in my mouth. “How do you know all this?” I ask when I finally realize that she knows way more than she should.
“The walls have eyes and ears,” she replies cryptically. Then she deflates. “Okay, fine. Cassandra Jessop saw him walk with you back to your room, and then she saw him leave after a few seconds.”
Jesus, why can’t people mind their own business?
I stare at her and say nothing.
“You’re letting me down here, Gabs,” she says sadly.
Suddenly, a chair jerks out from beside me, and a body settles heavily into it. I look over, and G.L. Stanton is holding up his hands like he’s surrendering to the cops. “Just hear me out, and then I’ll go away,” he pleads, moving his hands into a prayer position.
He looks a little worse for wear. His curly blond hair, which is covered by a black beanie, hangs down to his shoulders. He usually wears a cowboy hat. Odd. The bridge of his nose is decidedly purple, and the area beneath his eyes is puffy and swollen.
“My nuts look about like my face,” he blurts out when I let my eyes linger on his bruises.
“I don’t want to see those,” I say.
“I just thought you might want to know. You totally emasculated me. Like, I couldn’t get it up if I tried. It hurts too damn much.”
Tasha snorts. I shoot her a glare.
“Sorry to hear that.” I eat another fry.
“I deserved it,” he says. “What I said was sexist and rude. I overstepped, and my Aunt Gertrude would kill me if she knew, God rest her soul.” He crosses himself and looks toward the ceiling. “Sorry, Gertie,” he says out loud.
“Hmm,” I hum, around a mouthful.
He suddenly sobers, and he looks more sincere than I’ve ever seen him look. “Seriously, Gabby,” he says. “I’m sorry. I was joking around, but what I said was not okay. I understand that.” He hauls in a huge breath and then says in one big exhalation, “I often hide my emotional immaturity behind sexist and belittling remarks to make myself feel bigger and stronger. I’m working on that, starting yesterday. What I thought would be brushed off as funny wasn’t funny at all, and I hope you can forgive me.” He holds up a hand to stop me from speaking, even though I haven’t even tried. “If you can’t forgive me, I understand that too.” He finally stops talking, his shoulders slumping.
“Okay,” I say.
Sometimes, when I write a text message that’s super snarky in reply to someone, I’ll sit on it for a minute, and then I’ll reply with just an “okay.” It takes a lot of strength to do that. So, I do it now because I don’t know what else to do. If I forgive him, I’ll be making it super easy for him.
“Sorry about your balls,” I say. “Not,” I add at the last minute.
He finally grins. “You’re brutal, you know that?”
I eat another fry.
“I see why he likes you,” he says, his eyes narrowing.
I jab a fry in his direction. “If you say one thing about my ass, G.L., I swear to God?—”
“I wasn’t!” he cries. “I wasn’t even thinking about your ass. Mainly because your ass is indirectly connected to your knee, and your knee took out my ability to get hard.” He looks down at the offending knee. “Brutal.”
“So, why does he like her?” Tasha asks, surprising me.
G.L. grins. “Honestly? Because she said no.”
“Actually, I said no thank you,” I correct. “I was nice about it.”
Suddenly, someone sits down across the table next to Tasha. Her eyes go wide when she realizes it’s Seth.
“Is everything okay over here?” Seth asks. He looks from G.L. to me and back again.
“Fine,” I say, and I grin at him.
“Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere, G.L.?” Seth asks, his eyes narrowing toward his teammate.
G.L. gets to his feet. “Yes, yes, I am. I am supposed to be anywhere but here.”
G.L. walks away, looking somewhat shell-shocked.
Seth reaches over and steals one of my fries. “Do you have plans tonight?” he asks.
“Depends,” I reply.
“On what?” he asks with a grin.
“On why you want to know.”
“I have to go and get my hair done tonight. I’ll take a couple of hours. I thought you might do me a favor and go with me so I’ll have somebody to talk to.”
“What time?”
“I’m supposed to be there at seven.”
“Why will your haircut take a couple of hours?”
“Braids. It takes a while.”
I stare at him, and he clarifies, “I don’t like for my hair to fall into my eyes when I wrestle. And we have qualifying matches tomorrow.”
Seth has a head full of long, curly, dark hair. I’ve seen him sweaty, and it does get in his face.
“Should I eat first? Or is there a place where I can get something that’s not cafeteria food to eat before you get your hair done?”
“I could be persuaded to buy you a pretzel or a hot dog or something.”
“I can buy my own hot dogs,” I chirp.
“So, it’s a yes?” he asks. He looks happy and gleeful and content.
I nod, and he gets up, taps the table in front of me, and says, “I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”
I nod again.
When he’s gone, Tasha finally lets out the breath she’s been holding. “Girl,” she says. She stares at him as he walks across the cafeteria and leaves. “You have a date with Seth.”
“It’s not a date,” I say.
She snorts again. “Sure, it’s not.”