“W-what’s up with you and the yogurt anyway? Why’d you eat it like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re some weird fucking yogurt sex maniac.”
He smiles easily. His eyes glint. “I’m not a sex maniac.” He lowers his voice, tucking his chin to his chest conspiratorially, looking up at me with those big baby blues. He hesitates for a second, then says, “I’m a virgin.”
A loud, coarse burst of laughter bursts out from my chest. The sound chokes out of me before I can stop it.
“D’you think it’s funny?” Hurt traces light lines around his mouth.
“No,” I snort. “I don’t think it’s funny that you’re a virgin. I’ve got no problem with that. More power to you. What’s funny is that you think it’s necessary to tell me you’re one.”
“Oh,” he chuckles, shrugging good-naturedly, “guess you’re right.”
The topic is starting to make me feel weird, so I head to my room in an attempt to wrap it up.
“Hey, Jess,” he calls out after me, waiting until I turn around to add, “I’m not going to be one for much longer, you know.”
“One what?”
“A virgin.”
Against my better judgement, something about this stupid conversation is piquing my interest. “Is that a fact, huh? What are you going to do about it?”
“I’ve got options.”
Hearing him say that slices into my amusement and leaves me feeling oddly cold. “Well, good luck with that.”
Word on the street is that the infamous Chase and Gould are coming around to hang out. He didn’t ask me before inviting them and I’m dreading it. Fully dreading it. For one thing, I know there’s no way these guys are going to be anything other than the biggest dorks alive. They willingly hang out with Luke; how could they not be? So there’s that, but it’s not the main thing. The main thing is this gnawing, low level of anxiety I feel when I think of being in a group of guys with Luke. He’s so…soft. So sweet. So fucking earnest. There’s no way on Earth he isn’t the fall guy in the group. The one who takes all the flack. The butt of the jokes. I mean, no judgement here, I totally get it. I can definitely relate to wanting to laugh at him rather than with him, but for some reason I don’t like the feeling of other people doing it to him. It’s weird. Very unpleasant. Very unprecedented. I kind of feel like I won’t feel comfortable letting other guys rag him. I feel like I don’t want to see it and I might not be able to sit around and let it slide if I do. I have no idea why I feel like this. I hate it. It’s pissing me off big time. It’s making me feel anti-social and stressed out.
Luke looks up from his phone, “They’re almost here.” His eyes are shining, and he has this wide, buoyant smile on his face.
When I see him like that, I can’t help thinking that someone needs to protect this guy. Someone has to. He can’t go out into the world like this, wearing his heart on his sleeve, thinking everything’s good and nice and fair. Someone needs to protect him, or he’s going to get badly hurt.
Someonehasto protect him.
It doesn’t have to be you,I tell myself over and over.
6
Jessie
Agood-lookingjockfaceand torso leans out of the window of the passenger side of the truck. He’s all broad chest and dark hair. Smooth, stubborn jaw. The type of guy who’s used his looks to get out of trouble more than once, I’d be willing to bet.
“Lukeyyyy,” he bellows before the truck has come to a standstill.
“Pookie,” answers the driver in what sounds like a time-honored tradition, though it has to be said, he delivers his line with considerably less gusto thanel jockodid.
“Jess, this is Gould.” Luke waves in the direction of the jock and then to the other one. “And that’s Chase”.
Chase has a vaguely preppy air about him. I think it’s the combination of well-cut hair and the neat slant of his brow. He’s wearing baggy shorts past the knee and white socks pulled up to mid-calf with a loose tank. I don’t know him from Adam, but the clothes don’t suit the hair or the brow. I immediately pick up try-hard vibes.
I’m not a fan, but I like Gould even less. I can tell he’s the type to keep Luke around to have someone to laugh at. Someone to pick on to make him feel better about himself. Not that I care. Truth be told, I’d kind of love to have a go at Luke myself. I’d love to see that dumb, cheery mask slip. I know it would give me a rush to see it replaced with hurt and confusion. If I thought there was any way it would make me feel better about myself, believe me, I’d have done it by now.
Gould gets out of the truck, unfurling a stature that’s way shorter than I was expecting, and gets Luke in a headlock, ruffling his hair. Luke is giggling and making no effort to escape. Gould turns to me as if I’m an afterthought.
“You must be Jessie, right? Heard a lot about you.”
