She is the first to show me a picture on her phone, though.
“Look, he’s just different,” she almost swoons, and I arch a questioning brow. “Not like that.” She giggles and slaps my arm. “You know I love you, but he’s just new and shiny. I get why the girls are all over him.”
All I see is a half naked–very ripped–guy, who’s looking way too sultry into the camera for a normal picture.
“New and shiny, huh? Is he like a model or something? Why is he in his boxers?” The bulge leaves nothing to the imagination.
Hell, If I would be posting pics like that, my followers would be staggering. Not that I’m that arrogant, but I already have a lot of fans, which still amazes me. That’s why I don't post stuff like that online and use socials only for tracking some football stuff every once in a while. Sometimes Kaylee makes me upload selfies of usand shit, but it’s not my favorite thing to do. I prefer to be out of the limelight, which is hard considering what hopefully is going to be my choice of profession.
“They say he is,” Kaylee's friend leans around her and she answers my question. “But I heard he’s a dick.”
I chuckle. “You girls think every guy is a dick.”
“No really. My roommate went home with him last night after the annual Beta Phi kick-off party, and he totally ditched her this morning. She said he lives together with Missy and that Missy was being jealous this morning. Can you believe that?” she asks Kaylee.
Well no, actually. But that’s because they don’t know that Missy spent a lot of nights last year in Lamar’s room at our house, and I’m 99% sure his so-called interest for the girl in the next booth is only a scam because he’s bored.
Missy and Lamar think they’re being stealthy, but they really aren't fooling anyone.
Lamar's room is right next to mine, and the walls are paper-thin. Sometimes their late-night activities keep me up. Last year, after a week of enduring it, I retaliated by banging on Lamar's wall at six am every morning before my run, just to give him a taste of his own medicine.
And last night, I had to take out the damn earplugs again. Guess why?
Since the girls are engrossed in their conversation again, and I couldn't care less about their drama, I toss a balled-up napkin at Lamar's head. He scoffs and turns around, frowning.
“What’s that for, you dickweed?”
“I’m thirsty. Are you finished over there? Let's get some new drinks.” I flip my black ball cap backward and stand up.
“You're always thirsty.” He shuffles on his knees off the bench, hops down, and pretends to bow dramatically. “But whateveryou want, your wish is my command, my King,” he says, mocking my last name like he always does.
I push him, nearly toppling him over, and he cackles in the process. Dick.
“So, the girl?” I nod at the table where he was talking to her. He shrugs as he leads me toward the bar, navigating us through the crowded room.
“Nah, she’s pretty and all. Nice too, but I’ve already found someone better,” he says over his shoulder, throwing a lopsided smirk my way.
“Yeah, so I heard last night. You guys are official, then?”
“Nah,” he says again. “It’s just for fun, but the fun is good, real good. Missy is bendy as hell and hot as fuck. And the best part? She doesn't whine or complain or force me into things I don't want to do. Whenever we hook up, she leaves afterward without any drama. It's like a sacred arrangement, man.”
I hum in agreement as we reach the bar. Unfortunately, I know all about whining and forcing. I love Kaylee, and she’s amazing, but she can be quite pushy when it comes to getting her way. Otherwise, I wouldn’t even be here tonight. After taking a beating on the field today, all I wanted was to retreat to my room and spend a quiet evening with some ice packs and my girl. But hey, here I am.
Given her drive, it wouldn't surprise anyone that she wants to go to law school.
“Hey, you two. Had a good summer?” Gus, the brick of a man who is the owner of the establishment, greets us with a nod as we secure a spot and lean against the oak bar.
“Yeah, man, it was great. We came back a couple of weeks ago for training, though. Sorry we haven't stopped by until now,” Lamar responds, offering his fist to pound one out.
“So, you guys can finally drink beers here, right? Legally, that is.” Gus smirks.
I grin and nod. Funnily enough, Lamar and I share a birthday. We just turned twenty-one a week ago, and he still insists that we're 'twins from the universe' or some nonsense, making us wear matching silly shirts every year for the entire day. This year they were bright blue ones with tiny yellow ducks on them.
With our moms being best friends, there's no escaping Lamar. Not that I mind… Well, most of the time.
As Gus taps our beers, he spills half of it on his Superman shirt, being the closeted dork that he is. If the various game, comic, and movie memorabilia adorning the walls of Yetties wasn't enough of a clue, the bar's full name, Ye Olde Tavern, should make it obvious. But since it's the only bar on campus, it quickly got nicknamed Yetties. I'm grateful for that because I doubt I can pronounce the full name after a few drinks.
I’m also grateful that Gus usually has a full staff working for him, because the dude can’t bartend for shit. He’s better off in the kitchen, where he usually is.
