13. Porter
PORTER
“Hey, Porter, wait up!” Will calls out, and I turn to see him jogging toward me as I leave the building where my media class just was.
A part of me is still a bit surprised whenever he seems so happy to see me and that we’ve become friends so quickly.
I still can’t believe I opened up to him so much about my family last week.
I wasn’t expecting to do that. It’s never been something I enjoy talking about.
Normally people’s eyes fill with pity for me and my family, which is understandable.
But I’ve dealt with it for as long as I can really remember, and coming here felt like a clean way to distance myself from the “oh the poor Johnson family” narrative.
Will didn’t treat me any differently after.
We just went to dinner, and as promised, got margaritas.
It was easy and fun. If Will was queer, I would say it was even a little flirty at times, but I’m sure that was just my mind playing tricks on me because that tiny part of me, shoved down deep, maybe wished it were a date.
“Glad I caught you!” Will huffs out as he catches up to me. “Did you see our grade is posted for the speech?” He looks really happy, so I’m assuming we did well.
“I did not,” I admit.
“Ninety-five percent! So I’m taking you to lunch to celebrate,” he announces.
I raise a brow. “Oh, are you? What if I had other plans?”
“Cancel them,” he replies with a smirk.
“Do you want to call my manager or should I?” I tease rather than immediately agreeing. Not because I’m actually opposed, but it’s my natural instinct to push back a little.
“Shit, when do you work?”
“In like an hour.”
“So much time!” he insists. “Well, not for anywhere fancy, but we can do that another day. Let me take you to lunch, P. We can do Tommy’s again if that’s alright?”
“Yeah, sounds great,” I agree, ignoring his comment about going somewhere nicer another time.
I don’t think that’ll actually be happening.
Grabbing margaritas after working on our project or getting a sandwich when we run into each other on campus is one thing, but that would feel way too much like a date, and that’s obviously not what we are doing.
We head in that direction, and I realize he doesn’t have a backpack.
I try to remember his schedule, but he was the one who always suggested our meeting times.
Was he already on campus? I assumed this was a convenient idea while we were in the same area, but did he go out of his way specifically to find me?
“So, how long were you waiting for me?” I ask, attempting to sound casual.
He sticks his hands in his pockets as we walk. “Oh, not long. I still have your schedule so I knew where you’d be.”
“Did you have a class?” I push.
“Yeah, but it ended before yours. Then I saw the grade and decided to hang out for a bit instead of going home.”
I wonder how much earlier, but I tease him instead of finding out. “So instead of texting me, you thought, ‘I’ll stalk him and demand he spend time with me’?”
He nods. “I was prepared to kidnap you if necessary, so you made it pretty easy for me.”
“I’ll have to resist harder next time, that sounds fun,” I respond automatically, but then I realize how flirty I sounded. Shit.
“Restraints usually are,” Will taunts back, and my cheeks heat at the implication.
Luckily I’m saved from having to figure out an appropriate response by us arriving at the deli. Will holds the door open for me with a smile, orders for us—somehow remembering my order from weeks ago—pays, and even gets my drink from the fountain while I find a table.
Fuck, why is he always so nice? He’s dangerously close to making this totally innocent lunch feel like a date. I don’t need someone who’s not even into men setting the bar this high. How is anyone I actually go on a date with supposed to live up to his high standard?
Do not fall for him, do not do it, I repeat to myself over and over again as his whole face lights up as he takes his seat as if sitting across from me in this deli is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to him.
I will not make that mistake again.
I am gay.
He is straight.
This is not a challenge.
I cannot do anything to make him be attracted to me. That’s not how sexuality works.
Robbie taught me the way someone labels themself is important. I won’t read into things this time. I should’ve listened to Robbie when he told me he was straight, and I should listen now to Will.
Hoping for anything else is a bad idea all around, and my brain needs to catch the fuck up with acknowledging that.
Even if he did dance with me on my birthday in a crowded bar and made sure I got home okay with Taco Bell. Even if he does buy me things and bring me coffee. Even if he has my schedule memorized and tries to figure out ways to fit in time with me.
None of those things matter because he’s not attracted to me.
He’s just a kind, responsible, emotionally functional man who doesn’t suck, and my brain is short-circuiting because the bar for everyone else has been on the floor. Maybe below the floor.
Our number is called, and Will grabs our food. He gives me my sandwich first.
“Thanks. And thanks for doing this, you didn’t need to buy me lunch. Once again.”
“Every time you tell me I don’t need to buy you something, it makes me want to buy you three more things.”
I snort a laugh. “What, you don’t want me to thank you?”
“Oh, you can thank me, I quite enjoy that part actually.”
“Of course you do.” I laugh.
“But just know, I’ve got a lot planned for us, so whenever you’re free, we’re going to be pretty busy,” he adds, completely serious even though he’s beaming at me.
I laugh again. “Aren’t you a full-time student and an athlete? You know I have a job, so when do you think we’ll have time for all these plans?”
“Hmm,” he hums with a smirk. “I’m guessing you’d like to keep your job?”
“Yes, I’d like to be able to afford my rent and groceries.”
“Would me paying for those be frowned upon?”
“Oh my god, are you suddenly a sugar daddy or something? What is happening right now?”
“I’m just brainstorming!” Will insists. “You’re the one who brought up scheduling concerns.”
“What about lacrosse? You could just quit that,” I tease.
“Or you could come to my games,” he counters.
I shake my head. “I don’t know anything about lacrosse.”
“I’ll teach you.”
“Maybe. We’ll see.” I don’t know why I even agree to that. I’ve never had any desire to watch a sports game in my life, but watching Will run around in what I’m choosing to believe is a skimpy uniform does sound pretty appealing.
“You’ll love it,” he responds confidently, and I smile rather than deny it.
I try to focus on my food, but I can’t stop my thoughts from circling back to the Will–Robbie comparisons. I have a feeling being Will’s friend is either going to be the best thing that’s ever happened to me… or the worst.