12. Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
Ray
T he dingy little conference room in the student union’s basement is easy to find. Jacob and Celeste’s loud laughing voices carry halfway down the hall, letting me know I’m in the correct place. I slow my pace as I approach the room number Jordie texted to me.
I’m equal parts excited and nervous about the party. Jordie’s friends are so loud and dramatic and just fun to be around. The few times I’ve seen them since Bella Donna and Pixel’s show have mostly been in passing. Other than a handful of shared meals in the dining hall, and they’re a little more subdued there.
If throwing fries at each other and making lewd jokes can be considered subdued. I love how vibrant they all are. So bold and unashamed and all the things I want to be. I’ve just never had the courage to step out of line. It’s not me.
I get too wrapped up in my head and worry about the possible consequences. But Jordie’s friends make it feel safe to just be myself. Next to them, even my most flamboyantly boyish wardrobe choices seem muted and dull. There’s a comforting safety in that.
A sign on the door lists the name of the company doing the party: Self Service. The note says that the room is reserved for a fundraising party to benefit BAGLY, Inc. for the next hour. In case I needed more confirmation I’m in the right place.
This is it. My palms are sweaty as I try to psych myself up to enter the room. Jordie is in there. Along with a bunch of sex toys. Gulp.
When I step inside, there’s a bigger crowd than I expected from what Jordie said. The room isn’t as large as some of my lecture halls, but it feels like Jacob dragged most of the queer people on campus to this party. I guess that’s good for the charity that he’s raising funds to help.
Not so great for my nerves about browsing toy dicks in front of people who I want to make a good impression with. I can’t help staring at the trestle table covered in neon dicks of all shapes and sizes in the center of the room.
Fuck. I swallow hard. Do people really enjoy having something roughly the girth and length of my entire forearm shoved inside of them? Where would that even fit? Nope, on second thought, I don’t want to go there.
I’m getting twinges of sympathy pain just considering it. And maybe a tingle of warmth too. It’s not like I’m a virgin; I’ve fooled around with girls and guys. Toys have never been my favorite for solo play. My ex girlfriend was a toppy fucker, so seeing her all lit up with sexual confidence more than made up for the unyielding hardness of her favorite dildo.
The products on the table all look bigger than that one. If they sell this stuff in so many larger variations, then it must have more going for it? Ugh. Is one of those massively girthy dicks what Jordie wants from a lover? The thought is like a bucket of cold water over my tentative interest in the array of toys.
If good sex requires a gigantic cock like the ones on display… I’m screwed. Or very not screwed. I mean, I know it doesn’t, but the array of toys makes me dysphoric as hell.
“Oh! Hey, you made it!” Sheila is the first to notice me. She is standing in front of the guests next to the company representative and facing the rest of the room. She turns more fully toward me, a huge lime green cock flopping comically in front of her from the harness she’s trying on over her pants.
The harness sparks something back to life in my chest. Maybe there is still hope for me if Jordie wants to get railed.
What was it Jordie said when they were helping me get dressed the other day? Oh yeah. They handed me that balled up sock with a safety pin through it to fill out my pants and said If you can’t grow it yourself, store-bought is fine.
Then they winked and adjusted the breast forms in their bra and yeah. Store-bought might work for sex too. And Jordie brought the store to me. Or at least, one of them. Which is good, because the sock thing worked in a pinch to get my new underwear to stop bunching, but it’s really not cutting it to help with the sense of something missing in my pants. I have every intention of leaving this party with a new packer.
That quote about store-bought came up again over dinner when Pixel mentioned she needed a refill on her HRT. I mentioned wanting to go on testosterone, but that I wouldn’t know where to start the process here in the States. Pixel told me she goes to the student health clinic on campus and has had no issues getting her HRT through them.
I’ve been debating whether to make an appointment ever since. The biggest thing holding me back is that once I go on meds, I’ll only have so long to tell my family before they notice the changes in my appearance. Most places I’ve looked at say it takes a few months to get noticeable changes, but still, it feels like I’d be starting a countdown I’m not quite ready for. But I might never feel ready to tell them and I don’t want to put off hormones for too much longer.
Pixel says student health does informed consent. So I can probably leave the appointment with a prescription instead of jumping through hoops. No need for documenting years of therapy to prove I’m really trans like she had to deal with back in her home state. I’ve been dreaming about this for years, but the idea of actually taking the plunge has eels writhing in my belly, an electric buzz of trepidation and excitement.
I really want to ask Jordie to come with me for moral support, but it feels super intimate to invite a friend to something medical like that.
“We saved you a seat!” Sheila points toward the empty chair. Next to Jordie, who looks amazing, as always. They must have changed after our psych lecture. Earlier, they had on a tight graphic tee with a cartoon kitten and the slogan ‘be gay, do crimes’ all striped in bi pride colors. Now they’re wearing a ruffle-neck floral blouse that lends to a more femme silhouette. They look amazing and my pulse races at the idea they might have dressed up for our study date. For me.
“Thanks?” I squeak, waving nervously and shuffling toward the row of familiar faces near the front of the room. It’s awkward walking past all the strangers, like I can feel their eyes on me.
“Hey sunshine!” Jordie turns and beams at me. My heart skips a beat at how delighted they seem at the sight of me. As if they value our time together as much as I do.
My cheeks ache from the size of my answering grin as I wave back. That bright smile makes me believe that if I scrounge up the courage to invite them along to the clinic for moral support, they’d be glad to stand beside me.
I should make the appointment and stop procrastinating. Throw caution to the wind and tell them how much I like them. My palms are sweaty and my mouth is dry at the prospect. The words don’t quite reach my lips and I stand awkwardly at the end of the row of folding chairs Jordie’s friends are occupying.
“Come join us; we’re about to start. Sheila just got a little impatient.” Celeste waves me over to sit in the empty chair between her and Jordie.
I shuffle past Pixel and Celeste to get to the free chair, but it’s worth a tiny bit of awkwardness to feel Jordie’s thigh bump against mine as I sit. Their warm hand on my shoulder sends heat pooling low in my belly. Apparently, I should consider if there’s anything from the selection of toys here tonight to help curb my libido around my crush.
“Glad you made it.” Jordie smiles at me. The sweet private smile I love that makes me feel like I’m not wildly grasping at straws to hope there could be something more growing between us. “I checked and they have packers and stuff. Thought you might be in the market for one.”
“Oh, cool.” I shuffle on the edge of my seat, awkward nerves thrumming through me at the tacit mention of what isn’t in my pants. It makes my belly squirm, and I don’t want to think about it.
Jordie’s right, I came here with buying my first real packer in mind. It’s just stepping way outside of my comfort zone to shop for my store-bought dick in front of my crush. Especially since there are a lot more people here than just Jordie’s friends.
“Figured it might be less intimidating to shop among friends than at a store?” Jordie turns it into a question. “But if not, we can always still go to the place I was telling you about without these clowns. Or order online. Jen has coupon codes for the Self Serve website.”
“Hey! I am a classy jester, not a mere clown, shank you very much!” Pixel leans across Celeste to interject.
“Of course you are, dear.” Celeste pats her girlfriend’s long blonde hair and nudges her back into her seat. “And the party is about to start, so let’s all just sit back and let Jen do her thing, shall we?”
“Fine.” Pixel huffs and crosses her arms over her chest, emphasizing her modest curves. I shiver.
It’s weird to think that other people want the flesh lumps I’m desperate to bind into non-existence. People like Jordie beside me, with their flowy blouse draped to emphasize their subtle curves. I try not to think about how uncomfortable my binder is after wearing it all day. How sweaty I am under my shirt.
Nope. Not thinking about bodies at all as Jen finishes helping Sheila get the right fit for her harness. She is grinning as she takes it off and stows it in her school bag.
Except I can’t help thinking about how much I like the way Jordie looks in their blouse with the padded bra. They showed me the inserts when I was feeling weird about packing. They always look good, but they look extra confident and happy with their curves on display. I can’t help glancing at them over and over again.
Jen starts the party. It’s surreal to sit among my new friends listening to a sales pitch for sex toys, but they don’t make it weird. Even Jacob is on his best behavior. I get over the initial awkwardness the more Jen talks about the various items on display as casually as if they really were tupperware.
When Jen breaks out the strap-ons, I’m torn between the weirdness of her flopping around giant dildos while I’m sitting next to my crush and being fascinated by the various options. One of the dicks doubles as a stand-to-pee packer. Store-bought is fine, right? I swallow hard and try not to think too much about exactly who I want to try that particular item out with.
***
“Do you have this in pink?” Sheila runs her fingers over the selection of magnetic packing pouches Jen is showing us. That gives me the courage to reach for the cool cactus print one I really want.
The party wasn’t as weird or uncomfortable as I’d worried it might be. Now that it’s over, it seems like everyone is busily filling out their order slips from the little product magazine Jen passed out toward the end of her presentation. That gives me the courage to order a few things to try. When I ask, Jen has a basic model of a floppy packer that I can stick in my pants with her in the limited stock on hand. I’m ordering one that lets you stand up to pee too.
I’m still not quite brave enough to ask about the pack and play models in her product catalog that claim to go seamlessly from daily wear to sexy fun times. I ordered a harness like the one Sheila was trying on when I got here though. And a dildo with a vibe in the base to go with it. That was more than far enough out of my comfort zone.
I might not have gotten anything at all if Celeste and Pixel hadn’t been distracting Jordie while I browsed. They’re still standing with their roommates, poring over the order catalog on the other side of the room. Ordering sex toys right in front of the person I’ve got a hopeless crush on would have been a bridge too far. That doesn’t stop my hornier thoughts from desperately wanting to try my new cock out with Jordie. Both of us tangled in my sheets, sweaty and naked.
I can’t banish the image of Jordie’s face caught in the throes of passion and lit by the colorful fairy lights decorating my cozy dorm room. I want to hear them calling me their sunshine as they gaze up at me with that bright, cheerful smile from earlier. Or have them straddle me on my rainbow bed sheets while they ride my new cock; their chest and curls bouncing with the effort of fucking themself to orgasm. I really want to make them come.
Once she finishes with Sheila, Jen scans my order sheet. She bags up the couple of items she has with her and passes me an invoice for the things that she needs to ship. By the time I finish paying, Jordie has their order form filled out and is standing supportively nearby. Close enough to help if I needed it, but far enough for a veil of privacy over the whole affair.
I step back from the trestle table to make space for them, not considering that means that Jen has to hand Jordie my bag of goodies to pass to me. My face flames at the knowledge that my crush is handing me my new dick. Fuck. That might be the only way they handle my junk if I can’t work up the courage to declare my feelings. Part of me takes a guilty pleasure in the thought of it, another part desperately wants to say something suave and flirty. My mouth is too dry to find the right words though.
“Study time?” Jordie asks as we file out of the party.
“Study time!” I agree. That’s much safer ground. Easier to let my guard down without worrying that I’ll give away my less than platonic feelings about Jordie and mess up our friendship.
“Sweet! Are we getting Randy?” Keith asks, bouncing between us and slinging an arm around each of our necks, hauling us down. Jordie shrugs him off.
“Control your boyfriend, Abe,” they joke.
Keith messes with my hair, giving me a noogie that reminds me nostalgically of my brothers back home before he lets me go and saunters closer to his boyfriend.
“Don’t be a pest, Keith,” Abe tucks his diminutive boyfriend under his arm and Keith sighs contentedly.
“I’m in!” Pixel fist pumps. “Always down for a Randy’s run.”
“Sure, why not? I could use a coffee if I’m going to be up all night.” Celeste stretches and drops an arm around her girlfriend’s shoulders.
Pixel cackles. “Well, I’d prefer to be the one keeping you up all night. I suppose your econ prof is sort of hot in that uptight, older librarian way.”
“Mhm, I often fantasize about her shaking her hair out of that bun, all silvery cascades of silk…” Celeste teases.
“Am I invited too?” Pixel pouts.
Celeste chuckles. “I mean, it’s not happening, but sure, why not?”
“I am so down for the occasional third. I mean, to help your grade and all.” Pixel winks.
“Hey, stop setting feminism back a decade you pervs!” Sheila turns to admonish them.
“Stop icking our fantasy, Sheila. We wouldn’t actually do anything with a professor.”
“And I don’t need the help on my grades, unlike some people. Are you studying tonight?” Celeste asks pointedly.
Sheila pouts. “There’s no point. I already know I’m going to have to retake the class.”
Celeste rolls her eyes. “This is the first test. You can’t fail the entire class based on one bad pop quiz. You’re studying with me tonight. Go grab your notes and meet us at the diner.”
“But research has shown that cramming isn’t conducive to long-term data retention,” Sheila says.
Celeste shrugs. “Maybe not, but it’s a bit late to start a slow and thorough approach now.”
“But studying is so boring…” Sheila sighs heavily and casts a pleading glance at Lio.
Lio throws up their hands in front of them, placating. “Celeste knows her shit, Sheils. It can’t hurt to at least try to study.”
“You can’t prove that!” Sheila sighs. “I’d rather try out my new toys and just wing the test.”
“And I’d rather try out the toys when you aren’t using me as a distraction. The benefits go both ways.” Lio crosses their arms and scowls at Sheila.
“Ha! Just like you,” Sheila jokes.
Lio gives her an implacable stare, arms crossed over their chest like a disapproving parent.
“Ugh, fine. Tomorrow night then? We can celebrate Cel making me not fail.” Sheila sticks out her tongue at Celeste.
Celeste claps a fist to her heart. “I solemnly swear to make you not fail Sheila.”
“Yay! I have my notes in my bag. Just. Ugh. Math.” Sheila drags her feet until Lio loops their elbows together. The contact perks her right back up. I’m still not sure if those two are super close friends or dating, but I’m not going to make it weird by asking.
“You mean yay, math!” Celeste and Abe both correct her, like it’s a common refrain with them.
It’s cute. I like the way they all tease and support each other. I wish I had friends like this.
No wonder Jordie is so confident just being themself when they know these people will always have their back. Maybe I can have that too. They seem to like me well enough. Or else they are tolerating me for Jordie’s sake. All the more reason to bury my crush down as deep as I can stuff it.
I really like Jordie, but I need friends a lot more than I need a sex life. Heck, I don’t even really know who I am or what I truly want yet.
We make our way from campus to the diner as a group. It’s busy on a Thursday night. Much more so than when I was here with Jordie mid-afternoon on a Monday.
I notice Zo across the room. Their hair and outfit are both bubblegum pink tonight. I can’t quite make out the name and pronouns pinned to their apron today from here. Jordie says they usually default back to Zo and they/them between their various experiments, so that seems safe enough.
It’s a little weird to realize I recognize the guy manning the grill behind the counter. And the eccentric guy beside the register who spent a solid ten minutes last week telling us about his dirigible while we were waiting to pay our tab. Jordie called him Archie and told me he’s harmless. The dirigible probably isn’t real, since he’s been talking about it being almost ready for his world tour for as long as they’ve been coming here.
“Hey!” Archie greets our group as we scan for an open table large enough for all of us. “Have I told you youngsters? We got a new compressor valve! Plans are moving apace for a spring liftoff.”
“Awesome, man.” Jacob offers the older man a high five.
Archie nods happily. “Abigail is overjoyed. It won’t be long now.”
“Better enjoy Kit’s outstanding pies while you’re still around to get them, then.” Keith winks.
“Mm, excellent point.” Archie smiles beneficently at us, then turns back to his plate of dessert, still mumbling to himself about his plans.
“How many?” Henry asks as he turns from bussing a table. He arches an elegant brow at us, a bin of dishes propped on one hip like it weighs nothing. I’m not sure how he can work in heels and keep his killer manicure so pristine, but he manages somehow.
“Nine.” Celeste holds up her fingers, since it’s loud in here.
Henry nods. “It will just be a minute. I can put a couple of tables together for you folks.”
“Hey, babe,” Henry sing-songs as he brushes past Cesar, who almost drops a pitcher of soda with how fast he whirls around to face Henry. “I need help with a nine-top when you have a second,” he winks, Cesar flushes.
We all shuffle off to the side to get out of the way for a couple who came in after us. They make their way over to the counter and take the open seats next to Archie. I take in the bright neon and chrome that is becoming a familiar comfort.
At Randy’s, I don’t worry as much about how people see me. Even with all the gawky awkwardness of trying to find myself as a guy, there’s something indefinable about being around other openly queer people. It’s comforting to know I have a place where I belong. Jordie’s arm slung around my shoulders fills me with a warm glow of belonging that might just ignite me. It certainly makes it harder to keep my thoughts about Jordie platonic.
Luckily, it’s not long before we’re sitting and there’s a rare lull in Jordie’s friend’s banter as they peruse the daily specials. That doesn’t last long, since most of them are familiar with the menu and the specials are the only thing that seems to change. My laminated menu is missing the paper insert with the specials, so Jordie leans in close to share theirs with me.
“Hey, folks, Henry and I are sharing you tonight,” Cesar greets us once we’re settled into the plush vinyl seats.
“You lucky dogs,” Henry interjects with a saucy wink as he swings past with a pot of coffee for another table. “Be nice to Cesar.”
Their banter makes Jordie snort, our knees bumping together as they suppress a belly laugh. It’s so hard to hide how much I’m into them when their face is right there in kissing range.
“I’m always nice to pretty boys,” Jacob winks, eyeing Henry hungrily. He flirts as naturally as breathing, and I wish I could capture one hundredth of his confident swagger.
It’s a weird combination of comforting and affirming of my masculinity to see him vamping with the staff after the handful of flirty overtures he’s made toward me so far. It makes his overdone advances seem less targeted at me and more like a smokescreen to protect himself from anything more serious.
Cesar seems flustered as he continues. “Fun fact, for any number multiplied by nine, the sum of the digits equals to nine.”
“Even really big numbers?” Sheila asks, leaning over the table.
Celeste and Abe nod. “Yeah, you just have to keep adding the results for larger numbers.”
“Even 7456?” Lio challenges, eyes narrowing skeptically.
“Sure, that’s 67104, which gives you 18 which gives you nine,” Abe rattles off the answer while Celeste nods along.
Cesar looks startled that our group took his fun fact and ran with it. I’m reminded viscerally of how much I miss my brothers. Abe and Celeste are the same sort of nerdy as Adam and Darren, acting like math is a fun game instead of a hair-pulling tribulation. Ugh. I might be doomed to fail my math class.
“Weird.” Sheila shakes her head, looking bemused. I guess if I have to retake the course, I might be in the same section as Sheila since she seems to be flailing too.
“What about 6,578,123?” Lio arches a brow.
“I’m not your human calculator,” Abe retorts.
“Nope, he’s my human calculator,” Keith leans in to kiss Abe’s cheek. “You all wish you had a man this good at math.”
Sheila, Lio, and I groan.
“I sincerely do not,” Celeste says
“I don’t need any man,” Pixel tosses her hair, “But yes please to math cuties.”
“I can do my own math. It’s the French I need all the help I can get with.” Jordie winks at me and I might swoon at even a veiled implication that I’m potential dating material. At least enough to joke about.
Sheila snorts. “I’ll stick to conning my friends into meeting my math needs, thanks.”
“Uh, do you all need a minute, or can I put in your drink orders?” Cesar asks with an arched brow.
Everyone looks chagrined at getting sidetracked as we go around the table with our orders. As soon as Cesar leaves, Jordie’s friends pick up where their banter left off. It’s boisterous and fun.
When our food arrives there’s a lull in the chatter, I take out my notes to study for the psych test.
When Sheila notices, she scoffs into her pancakes. “Overachiever nerd, no wonder you and Jords get along so well. You’re going to make Celeste think it’s cool to grill me before I finish my pancakes.”
“Good point, we might as well get started on the basics.” Celeste points her fork at Shiela. “What is ROI?”
Sheila groans. “The ROI on these pancakes goes down exponentially if they get cold before I finish, cut me a break, Cel.”
Pixel cackles at that. “Come on Cel, you have to admit that was a pretty good comeback.”
It feels good to be drawn in and included, even if I’m a little flustered at being compared to my crush.
Part of me wishes it was just me and Jordie here again. Not the whole noisy crowd. But another part is relieved. This chaos doesn’t feel like a date. Even if Jordie made a point of sitting next to me. And we’re crammed in so close to squeeze everyone around the two tables that I can feel their body heat. I keep brushing up against Jacob on my other side too, but that’s not nearly so thrilling. We review the entire study guide between bites.
When we get to the end Jordie grins and hip checks me gently. I could bask in the warmth of their approval forever, it’s like sunshine on my face on a perfect spring day.
“See? Piece of cake, you’re twenty for twenty. You’ve got this test in the bag, my dude!” Jordie offers me a fist and I bump it, beaming at the praise.
“You think?” I can’t help leaning into them, digging for more of their kind words.
“I know it.” They reach over and ruffle my short hair and my eyes flutter closed in sheer bliss at how affirming their touch is. I manage to swallow down my little moan of contentment—barely.
When I open my eyes, Jordie is watching me so intently that for a wild moment I’m tempted to lean in and kiss them. They’re so beautiful, and something about the heat in their gaze gives me an inkling it wouldn’t be unwelcome. I lick my lips, drifting closer, until Jacob claps a hand on my back and asks if I want some of his fries, breaking the spell.
“Huh?” I startle at Jacob’s touch. “Um, no thanks.”
“You sure? I might’ve ordered too many apps. There are extra wings too.” Jacob waves one in front of me.
“I’ll take a wing.” Sheila reaches across the table for one.
“Help yourself.” Jacob leans across the table to pass his food around. I turn back toward Jordie, but the moment between us is long gone.
Jordie digs their French flashcards out of their bag. Probably just as well that I didn’t kiss them in front of all their friends. That might have been awkward. Especially if my attraction is one-sided. They aren’t meeting my eyes, so I might have misjudged the moment.
“Ready to correct my pronunciation, mon petit chien?” Jordie holds up the stack of note cards with a self-deprecating grin.
“Oui.” I chuckle. “Did you mean mon petit chou?”
I promised to help them with their language class. It’s easy to ignore everything else in the world when I get to express myself in the language I’m used to using for all things school and social.
My family are Francophones, but home was the main place we consistently spoke English growing up. My parents wanted us to have a strong foundation in both languages to improve our job prospects as adults. So there’s something jarringly intimate about using English for everything since I moved here. And something comforting and wonderful about slipping into French with Jordie.
Of course, their class is taught using Parisian French, so their clumsy American accent is even more off to my ears and some of the vocab is a little different. But I’m used to that. It’s still nice to hear the familiar language.
Nice, and at the same time it makes me homesick. That reminds me of the first time we came here and I heard a familiar accent from home after the drag show. It felt so good to hear a little piece of home in all the post-show buzz and the nerves that threatened to overwhelm me over meeting Jordie’s friends.
I haven’t seen Claude again since the night we bonded over a shared heritage and enjoyment of Keith and Pixel’s the drag show. But as I’m sitting at the diner, I notice them across the room, fiddling with their phone. I wave, tentatively when I catch their eye, they wave back distractedly. I consider going over to say hi, but then their phone rings and they answer it, leaving a tip on their table as they head for the door. The missed connection is just as well, I need to focus on my tutoring duties, anyway. Jordie is stumbling over their conjugations and I’m not sure how to correct them without misgendering them.
So rather than just correcting them I have to focus on explaining making sure the gender of their adjectives and nouns match. We go off on a tangent, discussing iel and gender neutral conjugations. And how the language police back home—yes, that’s an actual thing—aren’t keen on the gender neutral language that best fits my friend. The language to describe who they are only exists in queer spaces because the linguistic authorities don’t acknowledge it. So we end up settling on femme leaning descriptors for them if there isn’t a neutral option.
We pause to annotate their flashcards with the unofficial neutral forms of the adjectives on their vocab list alongside the masculine and feminine forms. I hate having to dampen their delight at finding new words that fit them with the caveat that their professor may or may not be accepting of the changes. Grassroots changes to make the language more gender neutral are controversial.
People have weirdly strong opinions about language that doesn’t affect them in any way and only serves to hold space for people like Jordie. It’s the same in English with they/them pronouns, I suppose. And I guess not wanting to make room for people like us might be part of the point for those who object.
At least my brothers are cool with iel and they/them. For a long time, I thought that might mean they would accept me too, but I wasn’t sure enough to gamble my future on that.
The diner is rowdy, and only getting busier as the night progresses. It’s loud and full of distractions. I watch a couple of kids from the club wearing elaborate outfits chattering animatedly about something I can’t catch. I overhear a distinct French accent that reminds me of home from the taller one of the pair in the thigh-high boots and lacy skirt.
There aren’t any free tables, but they join a guy tapping away on his computer at the back of the diner. I feel a little bad for taking up a table when I’m too stuffed to eat another bite. And it’s hard to hear Jordie over all the noise.
“Hey, um, it’s kind of loud; want to come back to my place to go over the rest of these and maybe review the psych study guide one last time?”
“Oh.” Jordie glances around. “It’s busy tonight, huh? Yeah. We can study back on campus. You’ve got a single, right?”
“I do.”
“Cool. I have a feeling Cel and Pixel will be trying out their new purchases loudly at my place when they get home. So no roommates to distract us sounds perfect.”
“Perfect.” I squeak, swallowing hard. My hands are clammy from the realization I just invited my crush back to my place. They’re going to be in my room, maybe sitting on my unmade bed, where I totally left my binder hanging from the frame to dry.
“Let’s go.” Jordie smiles at me and my mouth feels like a desert, my heart racing. Gulp. I can be chill about this. It’s not like anything other than studying is going to happen, right? Of course right.