7. Porter
PORTER
“Iwasn’t planning on dating anyone this semester, but I think I really like her,” Josie says on FaceTime.
“You know I’m so happy for you, but can this conversation wait till I’m home after work?” I ask, out of breath, as I try to hurry across campus to meet Will for our debate project.
“Yes, of course. I just had to tell you about the text she sent me. I literally swooned, P.”
“She knows you’re a catch! But I need to go, I have to meet Will and—”
“What?” Josie’s face shifts immediately as she interrupts at the mention of Will. “Why are you meeting Will? I thought we hated him?”
“I told you he’s my debate partner.”
“Yeah, and that you already met with him. Why do you need to meet with him multiple times for an opinion-based debate?” she questions, quirking a dark brow through the screen.
She’s right. We really don’t need to be meeting again. We probably didn’t need to meet at all. We could just touch base after class for a few minutes, but he keeps suggesting it, and I keep saying yes. I haven’t fully examined why. Maybe because I want to be wrong about him.
“He’s very committed to the project,” I explain, which is technically true.
Josie stares at me. “Uh-huh.”
“I think we might’ve misjudged him. I called him out about the bike last time we met, and he apologized and said he wanted to make it up to me. Or something…” I trail off.
“Oh, so how has he been making up for it? Enlighten me,” she requests in an overly cheery tone. “Also! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you talked about the bike. We’ll come back to that later. But right now, tell me all the things.”
Part of me is ashamed because there really isn’t anything he’s done yet other than be nice in class and send me a few friendly texts about his coffee. Still, I feel a weird urge to defend him. Probably because she didn’t see how remorseful he was when we last talked.
“Add it to the list of things we have to talk about tonight, okay? I’ve really gotta go now. Love you, byeee.”
“Fine, but I’m not letting this go later. Love you!”
As soon as I hang up, I text Will.
Porter
My lecture ran long, on my way!
Porter
Not blowing you off
Even if Will isn’t my favorite person in the world, I’m not an intentionally rude person, and I hate inconveniencing people. Especially because he decided to take over the schedule planning so I have absolutely no idea what his day looks like.
I also hate that I’m probably going to have to skip lunch now.
Ugh, I really should’ve told Will I couldn’t meet today.
He said he wants to talk through new points that have come up in our research and figure out the order we want to plan our speeches in.
I figured I’d be able to grab a snack at the library café before we met, but now I doubt I’ll have time to wait in that line.
And the food at the coffee shop is prepackaged and microwaved, so not my favorite.
My phone starts vibrating as I speed walk, and I realize Will is calling me. What college student makes actual phone calls? I reluctantly answer what I’m assuming was an accidental dial. “Hello?”
“Hey, Porter! I was double-checking your schedule while I was waiting and realized you don’t have much time before work.
Would you rather meet somewhere for a quick lunch?
If you’re coming from Jefferson Hall, Tommy’s Deli is probably closer than the library anyway.
I can put in a mobile order now for us so we can eat while we talk? ”
My mouth actually starts watering at the thought of my favorite Italian sub right now when I’d been resigned to skip the meal entirely. “Uh, sure. If you don’t mind?” I hesitantly agree.
“Of course not. What would you like?” It’s hard to ignore how happy he sounds, and I’m reminded, once again, how different Will has behaved since I’ve actually been talking to him.
I can’t think of many other guys our age who’d even notice I’d miss lunch, let alone offer a solution so easily.
In the few interactions we’ve had, he’s assumed control of the situation, and it’s kind of refreshing.
I’ve spent so long being the one who handles things for not only myself but also the people around me.
I’m not sure I know what to do with someone who just takes something off my plate without being asked.
As nice as it is, I really shouldn’t let myself get used to it.
A few minutes later, I’m walking into Tommy’s Deli, where a tall, attractive man with curly hair and bright blue-green eyes is waiting for me with my favorite sandwich.
I have a wild thought that I wish this were a date.
Not with Will of course, but if he were a man who was anywhere near as attractive as he is, who was actually interested in me, then damn, this would be a really great date.
But I remind myself that I don’t actually want it to be.
I’ve been down this road once before and left with a broken heart. It’s safer to avoid dating altogether.
That line of thinking isn’t helpful at all, so I sit across from him and get right to business. “Hey, thanks. How much do I owe you?”
Will smiles, waving me off. “Don’t worry about it. Even if I wasn’t trying to make up for being an ass, it’s just lunch.”
“Well, thank you. Really,” I say, accepting the sub he slides in front of me.
“Can I get you a drink? I wasn’t sure what you’d prefer, so I just got you a fountain cup.”
“You really don’t have to do all this, Will.
I can get my own drink.” I smile and take the cup, walking toward the drink machine, mostly because I need a minute to shake off those stray date thoughts and remind myself that he’s apparently just a nice person who I completely misjudged.
When my cup is full, I sit back down, and he starts again.
“I know you don’t have a lot of time, so maybe I can just tell you my thoughts while you eat? I mean, obviously, jump in at any time. I just don’t want you to rush. As you might remember, I hate being late.”
I blink at him a few times because he’s so… thoughtful. Seriously, who is this man? They say you shouldn’t judge people based off their worst moments, and I guess they’re right. I realize I haven’t responded and finally get out a “thank you” and start eating.
He talks about a few articles he’s read, along with some firsthand accounts from students who have had these requirements before, then he shows me his idea for the order we should approach our arguments for the speech.
I’m able to finish my lunch with about ten minutes to spare before I need to leave for work, only cutting in occasionally to offer feedback and input.
Just when I think we’re done and ready to leave, Will offers me a more shy smile than his others have been.
“Talking about being entitled the other day really stuck with me. I wanted to thank you for drawing my attention to the fact that not everyone is in the same financial situation that I am. I’ve been trying to be more aware of it with my other friends and teammates, and I just think it’s been good, so I wanted to thank you. ”
I’m frozen in place for a moment, hand on the zipper of my bag without actually moving as I try to process what he just said.
I was definitely not expecting it. It was so genuine and sweet, but a part of me wants to push back and ask him if he’s thanking me for being poor.
I bite my tongue on the bratty response and decide on, “Oh, you don’t need to thank me. But that’s good to hear.”
“It sounded like you might’ve had some personal experiences with having too much responsibility in high school,” he continues, and that’s the understatement of the century.
“I’m sorry if you had to deal with any of that.
I'm sure I’m probably not the person you’d want to talk about that stuff with, but if you ever want to complain or anything, I’ve been told I’m an excellent listener. ”
I can’t help it. I snort a laugh. “Oh yeah? By who? The girl who threw a drink in your face a few weeks ago?”
He laughs too, obviously not offended by my response. “Okay, no, not by her. But my mom and her friends say I can gossip with the best of them.”
“A momma’s boy? Will, you are full of surprises,” I tease like I would with my other friends. Not that we’re friends. At least, I don’t think we are.
He shrugs. “What about you? Are you and your mom close?”
My smile falls. “Not exactly.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, it’s fine. She’s a good person, just works a lot,” I explain kind of dismissively. Will does not need my whole tragic backstory.
“Well, I really appreciate you still meeting today, but I know you have to get to work, so I’ll let ya go.”
I glance at the time and realize I should have probably already left. “Shit, yeah. I have to go. Thanks again for lunch.”
“Anytime. We should do it again sometime.”
I know that’s just a thing people say, but I wonder if Will really means that, if he’d buy me lunch whenever I asked to make up for the “bike debt” he thinks he owes me. He can’t actually be suggesting we casually get meals together for fun, though, right?
Fuck. I don’t have time to think about that right now. I rush to work, and I’m able to clock in on time. During my shift, my mind wanders back to Will far more often than I’d care to admit.