The question died on my tongue. He hadn’t chosen any drink. He’d left.
“You look like shit,” Rome said when I dumped my sorry ass into the seat beside him. The rest of our Intro to B Law class looked about as excited as anyone would for a morning tutorial about the most boring topic known to mankind.
“Thanks, babe,” I told him. “You really know how to compliment a man.”
“You look exhausted,” he corrected. “Don’t tell me you went out last night.”
“I don’t go out anymore.”
“Mm-hmm,” he said sceptically.
“I don’t,” I insisted. “The only reason I did that was to pull, and I’m not doing that anymore.” I took my laptop out of my backpack and turned it on.
“How did it go with the LULL boy?”
“Huh?”
“The guy from LULL who you said looked like a model and studied physics?”
“Oh. Yeah. Him.”
“Don’t tell me you forgot he existed,” Rome said. “You talked my ear off about him.”
“We went on a date on Friday.”
“The double date?” Rome said.
“Yes.”
“With the straight boy.”
“His name is Leo.”
Leo, who I hadn’t spoken to since Saturday morning.
I was a little pissed. When I left Friday morning, I had the courtesy to text to let him know I’d gone. He just disappeared while I was in the shower. He hadn’t even said goodbye.
What if I never saw him again?
Rome was narrowing his eyes at me.
“What?” I asked.
“You look sad.”
“It’s 10 AM on a Tuesday, and I’m about to sit here for two hours discussing the various legal defences to a breach of contract. Of course I’m sad.”
He shook his head. “You’re a specific kind of sad. Love-life-sad. And it has to do with the straight boy.”
“His name’s Leo,” I said, too tired to be irritated, “and he said he might not be as straight as he thought.”
“Oh, Eddie,” Rome said, and his expression transformed from suspicious to pitiful, which was worse. “Don’t tell me you —”
“Yeah, I did. I know, I know. Don’t tell me you told me so.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Rome said. “Did he freak out at you?”
“Not at me,” I said. “He left while I was in the shower.”
