I couldn’t help but laugh, and as soon as I did, I knew I’d made a mistake. Jack didn’t say anything, but I felt guilty and decided to run and take refuge in the bathroom. I really did have to go anyway. I’d been holding it in because I was scared of what Jack would do if I left him and Curtis alone. But it seemed safe by that point, and anyway, Naya was there to run interference.
“Be right back,” I said loudly. I must have set a world record for getting in and out, and I even washed my hands. But it wasn’t fast enough, because when I returned, I found both guys sitting beside each other. Jack scowled, I asked what was up, and Curtis replied blithely, “Oh, nothing. I was just telling your, uh,boyfriendabout our literature professor’s favorite word and how we all were laughing about it earlier.”
Uh-oh.
That bastard. Curtis knew perfectly well what he was doing. And he was having a damn ball. Naya didn’t say anything. Jack didn’t, either. Apparently everyone was more than happy to have me on the spot.
“He’s not my boyfriend, he’s just my roommate,” I said, sitting down next to Curtis.
Jack snorted and said, “I’d say I’m a bit more than that.”
Curtis looked from him to me as I responded, “Not much more.”
Ignoring me, Jack informed Curtis, “I’m her ex-boyfriend.”
“We broke up forever ago, though,” I cut in.
“Define forever,babe,” Jack replied.
Babe?! Now I wanted to vomit. And I could tell he was loving every minute of it. “Let’s say a year, for convenience’s sake,babe.”
I’d thought that would knock him off his high horse, but he grinned back like a sly little child. I guess he was already planning what he was going to hit me with next. “Was a year long enough to forget what you and I used to do on this sofa, babe?”
Naya spit up a sip of beer and started coughing, and I turned red as a tomato. Curtis looked down at the fabric he was sitting on, as if worried he might get contaminated by body fluids.
“We never did anything in here, you idiot!” I shouted.
“Oh, that’s right. We stuck to the bedroom. And the shower. And the counter,” he said.
Naya didn’t have room to talk—you could hardly enter the apartment without seeing her and Will getting it on—but it didn’t stop her from overreacting. “The counter! Gross! Please tell me you guys disinfected it afterwards!”
I tried to no avail to protest that it wasn’t true. Curtis, like Jack, was having a ball. I begged Jack to go out for a cigarette. He mimicked my own voice, reminding me of all the times I’d told him smoking was bad for him.
“Get some fresh air, then,” I said, but that didn’t interest him either. Fed up, I asked, “How about you go throw yourself off the roof then?”
He turned down that suggestion, too.
“Then at least go sit on the other couch,” I said.
“Why, am I bothering you, Conner?” he asked. So we were playing that game again. I couldn’t believe a man old enough to run for public office thought it was that funny to pretend to forget other people’s names. Curtis corrected him, but he did it again, then I corrected him, adding, “Whether or not your behavior’s bothering Curtis, it’s starting to bother me.”
Naya tried to help, saying, “Ross, shouldn’t you be working on some PR thing for your film or something?”
Curtis’s eyes got wide, and he turned, excited, as if he’d just heard the revelation of the century. “Wait a minute…are you Jack Ross?”
Jack responded smugly, “Yeah, why? You got a problem with it?”
“A problem? Hell no! I love your work!” Curtis gushed.
Great. Just great.
I rolled my eyes as I observed the malevolent satisfaction that overtook Jack’s face. Surely Curtis noticed, too, but he didn’t mind my nerves. He continued, “My friends and I used to love your YouTube channel! But since you never showed your face in your videos, I didn’t realize it was you. The last time I was here and they said something about you being a filmmaker, I didn’t put two and two together, probably because everyone calls you by your last name. When’s your movie coming out again?”
Curtis almost blushed when Naya informed him, “In two weeks!”
“I’m buying tickets now!” Curtis exclaimed. Then, almost guiltily, he looked over at me. “I don’t know if you’re planning to go, Jenna, but I could get one for you, too.”
“Whatever,” I responded. “I hate movies anyway.”
