Dex Is an Optimalist
Chapter three
Dex
Now, Dex wasn’t the smartest guy. He knew that—he’d always known that—and for the most part, he’d made his peace with it. As far as he was concerned, it was more important to be a good person than a smart one.
Regardless of intelligence, however, he had no problem reading the horror and dismay on the Sypent’s face as Professor Myls announced their new tutoring arrangement.
Why they were so upset, he couldn’t fathom.
It was pretty much the best news ever because they weren’t just co-students or co-workers anymore, they were study-buddies.
Destiny for the win!
He held his hand aloft for a high-five for almost a full minute, but when it became apparent Cya was going to leave him hanging, he lowered his hand and tried not to pout in disappointment. If there was one thing that bummed him out hard, it was an unfulfilled high-five.
“I think there’s been a mistake,” Cya said, turning a pleading look on the professor.
“Dex has one of the best grades in the class, and he recently signed up to be a tutor, so he is more available than any of my other—”
“My schedule is flexible,” Cya insisted. “Like, so flexible.”
“Cool, so we can work around my dyscus practices easily then,” Dex chimed in, and the Sypent turned on him with a scowl. “Plus, we’re gonna have, like, the same schedule ’cause we’ll be working together during the day.”
“Working together?” the professor asked.
Dex knocked Cya’s shoulder playfully. “Yeah, we work together at the Passing Through Cafe. Well, we’re going to. I just got the job.”
“Oh, well, it must be fate.” Professor Myls clasped her hands and smiled brilliantly at them both.
“Destiny,” he agreed seriously, and Cya’s rattle shook menacingly as they crossed their arms over their chest. Their jewelry jangled with the motion, reminding Dex of the wind chime hanging in front of the kitchen window back home.
He liked that Cya jingled when they moved, like they were their own musical instrument.
“I don’t think…” Cya began, then drifted off as they looked from Professor Myls to Dex, then back to Professor Myls. Their shoulders slumped in defeat. “Fine.”
“Wonderful,” Professor Myls said, opening her laptop in clear dismissal. “I will see you both next week.”
Cya mumbled incoherently under their breath as they turned and made their way to the door. Dex saluted Professor Myls, then hurried to catch up with the Sypent, falling into step beside them in the hallway.
“I told you destiny wasn’t messing around,” he said, and Cya rounded on him, baring their long, sharp fangs.
“You will not breathe a word of this to anyone,” they hissed, golden irises flashing menacingly. “We will meet and speak only about maths. You will tutor. I will listen. Then we go our separate ways.
“You are not my mentor. You are not my friend.” They straightened and smoothed a hand down their tunic, causing more metallic jingling from their jewelry. “This changes nothing.”
“Whoa, you are, like, crazy intense right now,” Dex breathed, and their tail rattled again. “You’re a Capricorn, aren’t you?”
This seemed to throw them off, and they stammered nonsensically until they managed a, “What?”
“Capricorn,” he repeated. “Or maybe a Scorpio?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Without another word, they turned and stomped off.
Technically, they didn’t stomp, since they didn’t have feet, but given their jerky arm movements and tight shoulders, stomping was definitely the intended vibe.
It was kind of hot, if Dex was being honest. He’d always liked a girl with a bit of fire to her.
Except Cya wasn’t a girl, even if they were pretty like one. Not that boys couldn’t be pretty; they could. Dex had just never really noticed boys before. But Cya wasn’t a boy either. They were a they. A pretty they. A very pretty they.
Their face was all sharp angles and perfectly symmetrical lines. Their bronze skin looked soft and warm, perfectly complimented by all their gold jewelry. And the iridescent green scales on their lower half shimmered like gemstones in the sun.
Dex wondered if their scales would be hard and smooth, or dry and leathery. Not that it was any of his business what their scales felt like, but sue him, he was curious.
“Stop following me,” Cya snapped as he, once again, fell into step beside them.
“I’m not following you. I’m walking with you because we’re going the same direction,” Dex said, and they shot him a glare.
Even scowling, they were beautiful, but it was a cold beauty, hard like ice. Touch it too long and he’d walk away with burns.
“Stop walking with me then,” they ordered.
“But then I would be following you, and that does feel stalkery.” With a frustrated sound, they stopped, causing him to stumble to a halt himself. “What are you doing?”
“I will follow you.” The Sypent gestured for Dex to keep walking. “Then it won’t be stalking.”
“Why? ’Cause I’m a guy? Kinda sexist, don’t you think? Not that you’re a girl. That’s not what I meant. I just try to be a feminist, you know?”
Cya blinked at him. “Every time you open your mouth, I dislike you more.”
His tail drooped to the ground. “Aw, really? That sucks. I think you’re pretty cool.”
“You… do?” they asked, genuine shock replacing the irritation pinching their features.
“I mean, yeah. I really dig your vibe,” he admitted, kicking at a few stray pebbles on the sidewalk.
“You dig my vibe?” Cya echoed incredulously, and Dex nodded.
“Totally.”
“You…” They worked their jaw, fingers drumming against their biceps. “You’re very strange.”
Dex pursed his lips and exhaled in a quick succession of puffs, like an engine sputtering to life, before he asked, “Like, in a good way?”
“Remains to be seen,” they said after a moment of pondering.
“M’kay. So, should we figure out a tutoring schedule?”
Like it was the last thing they wanted to do, Cya rubbed the space between their eyes before huffing out, “Fine.”
“So I got dyscus practice every afternoon before class and Saturday mornings. The season doesn’t technically start until April, but once it does, most Saturdays will be game day.
” Dex fished out his phone and checked his calendar.
“Sundays could work for me, unless you don’t wanna study on the weekends. ”
The Sypent inspected their nails, the rattled tip of their tail flicking impatiently, but they offered no verbal response.
“Uh, okay. So during the week, I have a few evenings after class that we could meet up in the library or something—”
“Here?” Cya interrupted, eyes wide with alarm. “On campus? Where people would see?”
“I mean, other people in the library, I guess. Unless you wanted to meet at my house? That would actually work way better for me, no lie. It would free up more evenings, at least.”
“Yes, fine,” they agreed quickly, tucking their hair behind their heavily pierced ears as they muttered, almost too quietly for Dex to hear, “Anywhere but here. Or my house. Or any public place with witnesses.”
Something told Dex that he should be offended, but he shrugged it off. “Sweet, then my place. Tuesdays and Thursdays work? We could go together after class on Thursdays and go over what the prof taught us and stuff, then refresh and go over other material on Tuesdays.”
With a shrug, they hooked their purse over their shoulder. “Sure, whatever.”
“Cool. This is gonna be fun.”
“This will be the opposite of fun!”
Dex frowned and shook his head. “Well, yeah, with that attitude. You should try being more optimalistic.”
Their nostril slits flared. “You mean optimistic?”
“Sure. That too.”
“Oh my gods,” they lamented miserably before they headed toward the arched entrance to campus.
He jogged after them. “Wait, shouldn’t we exchange numbers or something?”
“Why?”
“So we can, you know, coordinate and stuff?” Dex said as they came to a stop under the entrance arch.
Reaching into their purse, Cya pulled out their phone and unlocked the screen. “Fine. What’s your number?”
Instead of rattling his number off, he took the phone from Cya’s hand and opened their contacts app.
They made a disgruntled noise but didn’t say anything as he added his number under the contact name, “Your New BFF Dex.” He took a quick selfie, flashing the peace sign, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.
Snickering to himself, he made it his contact picture, then texted himself, listening for the responding ping from his own pocket before he handed Cya’s phone back to them.
“All set.”
“Wonderful,” they grumbled as they dropped their phone into their purse without looking at the screen. A sleek, black sedan pulled up to the sidewalk, and they turned toward it. “This is me.”
“Okay, I’ll catch you later then.” He lifted a hand, palm-out. “Goodbye high-five?”
With a noise of disgust, they turned away from him, sans high-five, and folded themself into the back of the sedan.
The door shut, but the car didn’t pull away.
He heard muffled voices arguing inside, then a minute later, the window scrolled down.
Scowling, Cya cast him a grudging glance from the corner of their eye.
“Do you need a ride?” they offered through clenched teeth.
“Nah, I got a student transpo-pass, but that’s real nice of you to offer.”
“I didn’t. Hemersyn did.” They pointed to their driver, and Dex ducked down enough to peer through the window at the older Avia behind the wheel. He lifted a taloned hand and waved.
Dex waved back. “Oh, ’sup, my man. I’m Dex.”
“Hemersyn. You sure you don’t need a ride home?”
“He said he didn’t,” Cya hissed, and Hemersyn cast them a mischievous grin.
“I’m just double-checking. It’s called being polite,” he said in a rebuking tone, and Cya slumped lower in their seat and pouted like a chastised child.
At the Avia’s expectant look, Dex shook his head again. “Thanks, but I’m good. I’ll just catch the tram.” To Cya, he said, “See you around, bestie.”
“Not your bestie,” they snipped as they rolled up their window.