Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“What the fuck, why didn’t you take our orders?” Flash asked, glancing at our burgers and fries. Likely he had just returned from the dining hall, where he’d chowed down on the special of the day.
“Sorry, spur-of-the-moment decision,” Spencer replied. “You guys didn’t ask us the other night either.”
He and Smitty had gone to some fried-chicken place and brought back a bucket they didn’t want to share. But there were nights when we all chipped in on pizzas together, especially if we didn’t want to eat in the dining hall. They served some gross deep-dish kind instead of the New York or Jersey style.
“True, but your food looks way better than that greasy cheesesteak,” Flash said as A-Train approached, looking freshly showered. “Can you believe this bullshit?”
“Looks good, but I’ve got dinner plans tonight,” A-Train said with a gleam in his eye.
“That girl from last Saturday?” Spencer asked.
“Yeah, we’re meeting at Applebee’s.”
“Fancy,” I teased after swallowing a mouthful of fries. I lifted the bag to offer the rest to Flash. He grabbed a handful and scarfed them down.
“Wait, didn’t she want to get with Henners at one point?” Flash asked as he dipped another fry in ketchup.
“Maybe, but he didn’t lock it up. Besides, once she laid eyes on me, it was all over.” A-Train flexed, and we laughed.
“She was hot,” Flash said. “Not hot enough for you, Henners?”
“You know how picky he is,” Spencer replied, trying to save me yet again.
Flash snorted. “What the hell? It’s only hooking up.”
“Maybe I don’t want to hook up with just anyone.”
Right then my eyes locked on Emil as he left Jonah’s room, who was in the marching band too if I wasn’t mistaken. He threw me a strange, searching look, as if he could see right through me. He must’ve overheard our conversation.
Panic gripped my chest, and I opened my mouth to say something about another hot girl I was interested in, but I was so damned sick of hiding. So I just let it go.
23
LARK
“I was in Murphy House last night with Jonah and overheard a conversation between Henners and his football buddies,” Emil told me on Wednesday when we met for lunch.
“What was it?”
“They were teasing him about never hooking up with anyone.”
I cast my glance across the room toward Henry’s table. He was laughing about something, and his beaming smile made my stomach feel all funny. “And?”
“I don’t know… There was this moment when he looked so uncomfortable, and then our eyes met, and I recognized something in him,” Emil said, and my gut churned. “Like I’ve been in that situation before, you know what I mean?”
“Being put on the spot?” I asked, playing dumb.
“Being put on the spot as a gay kid,” he countered.
I lowered my voice, though it was only the two of us today. “What are you trying to say?”
“Nothing. It was probably my overactive imagination.” He lifted his sandwich. “Just thought maybe you’d get it. Connecting with people is hard enough, let alone dating someone.”
I picked at the edges of the bagel I’d packed myself that morning from Mom’s diner. It was thick and doughy and I normally devoured them, but I just wasn’t feeling it. “Have you been able to date or connect with anyone?”
He shrugged. “Hookups here and there, using apps. How about you?”
“I’m not really…looking. Just trying to stay afloat with grades and stuff.” My pulse throbbed as I felt his scrutiny.
“You can talk to me, you know. About anything. I consider you a good friend now, so you’re stuck with me.”
I smiled. It felt good to have made a friend at college, and I hadn’t shared that much personal stuff with him, not really. But maybe this was the perfect opportunity.
“The reason why dance is so important to me is because I had cancer when I was a kid and beat it. But the possibility that it could return is always in the back of my mind, so I’m just trying to live my dream for as long as I can.”
His lips parted, and his eyes widened. “Fuck, thanks for telling me.”
“It’s not something I try to hide”—my gaze drifted across the room again—“but it’s also not something to, like, announce at a party either. Sort of a buzzkill.” When I looked at Emil again, he was gaping at me. “What?”
He lowered his voice. “Is that how you know Henners?”
“I’m not going to discuss that with you,” I sputtered, caught off guard. I obviously was too weak to not seek Henry out, especially lately, which meant more eyes on us. And Emil had put two and two together. “Sorry, that came out wrong. What I meant was, it’s private. Please don’t say anything.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” he said, and I breathed out in relief. “And you’re right. Everyone’s business is their own. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was curious about your history. I can tell he cares about you.”