“Well, I might have had a small thing for you when we first met,” he admits.
“You mean when I was following you around, and practicallybeggingyou to be my friend? You were ignoring me because you liked me?” I can’t help but laugh.
“I didn’t know how to talk to you! You’re so…pretty. It’s scary. You made me nervous. But then I sort of got over this”—he waves a hand at my face—“and realized that we wouldn’t be good together anyway, and I was better off having you as a friend.”
“So, what I’m hearing is you came for my face, but left because of my personality? Lovely,” I deadpan.
“Hey.” He gives me a gentle shove. “I just mean that you’re a little too much for me. I think I need someone…quieter.”
He looks so uncomfortable, trying to let me down easy. Leaning into him, I bump his shoulder with mine.
“You’re a heartbreaker, Mick. I suppose it’s a good thing I’ve got Marcos to soothe my wounded pride.” Standing up, I reach my arms over my head and arch my back. “This was good. I feel better.”
“Really?” he asks, surprised.
“Yeah. Like I said, I think I just needed to say some of that out loud. I was fine over the summer, but the identity crisis sort of hit once we got back to campus. Now, it’s time to come up with a plan to get Marcos to like me.”
“You said he’s slept with you three times,” Micky points out. “He definitely likes you.”
Ignoring this, I soldier on. “If we were at my uncle’s place in Montana, I would woo him with baby goats and horses. Going to have to come up with something else here, though. Thanks for the chat, Mick. You want to come out and grab something to eat? I’ll pay.”
“No. I want to read and not talk to anybody for the rest of the day,” he says honestly.
“Fair. I’m going home. Call me if you need me.”
I ruffle his hair, shaking his head gently from side to side. Leaving, I jog down the stairs, feeling far more buoyant than I did when I arrived. I’m going to go home and come up with a plan. I’m going to make Marcos give me a chance.
First step: talk to Max Kuemper.
“Max Kuemper!Just the man I was hoping to find.”
Panting, Max pops one headphone out of his ear and slows down the treadmill.
“Hey?” he greets me, glancing around the nearly empty gym. “I thought I was the last one here.”
“Almost. Got a minute, though? I wanted to talk to you about something.” I grin up at him, resting a hand on the side of his machine. Sweat drips down his temples, darkening his hair and sticking his shirt to his back in a deep V pattern. He nods, looking at me curiously.
“Sure. Mind if I cool down while we do?” He gestures at his feet, indicating the slower speed.
“No problem. So, listen. I need to talk to you about your friend Marcos.”
I say this tentatively, watching his face closely as I do. Max nods like he was expecting this to be the case, confirming my suspicion that Marcos had confided at least something about our relationship to him. Already, this is going better than I could have hoped.
“What about Marcos?” he asks carefully, swiping a forearm across his face.
“Well, I’m trying to plan some dates and I need to know what he might like. I’m not talking something generic, either. I need this to be so good he can’t help but fall in love with me.”
Max’s breath stutters and he chokes a little bit, like he wants to laugh, but his breathing is still too elevated to manage it.
“Okay, uhm… His favorite food is pozole, but like, authentic pozole like his abuela used to make. My friend Zeke put us on to a place here in town that serves genuine Mexican dishes, so…”
“Yes! That’s a great idea.” I have no fucking idea whatpozole is, but I’m down for whatever. I nod encouragingly at Max. “Can you text me the address?”
“Sure.”
“What else you got?”
“Well, he likes to fish.” I nearly go into cardiac arrest at this. Ilovefishing. Max, perhaps seeing my expression, hacks out another laugh and takes a sip of his water. He dials the treadmill down a little more before continuing. “He’s always wanted to try surf casting, but we haven’t had a chance yet.”
