It takes me a few seconds to process, my disbelief registering a beat too late. “You are so full of shit.”
He grabs my arm again, then seems to realize his misstep and quickly lets go. “I swear I’m not. Pull out your phone. Enter in these seven numbers. They’re next week’s winning Lotto numbers.”
“There are only six Lotto numbers.”
“The seventh is for good luck.”
Now I’m confused. Asshole Dave is really trying to give me his number? He thinks I’m hot? Is he, like, gay or something? Bi? From all the trash he talks in the hallway, it seems like there’s a different honey on his jock every weekend.
“Are you hitting on me?” I’m more curious than angry.
He nods, his face somber as a funeral. “I’ve been hitting on you all week. I guess my Spanish isn’t as good as I thought.”
That’s a revelation. “I thought you were just being racist. Calling me Papi and shit.”
“I say stupid shit sometimes. A lot of the time. Anyway, I’m risking a beatdown right now from your boyfriend just to give you my number.”
I glance over at Chris, who’s taken a break from skating and is watching us with interest.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say, trying to hide any feelings I might have about it.
“Does he know that?”
Because it’s none of Dave’s damn business and I want to quit this conversation before Chris sniffs us out, I pull out my phone, and Dave gives me his number. I don’t have to call him. I could just let his number sit in there, uncalled, forever. If he is interested in me, that’s one way to mess with him.
“I’ll be around all weekend,” Dave says. The smirk is back, and even though I don’t want to admit it, even to myself, Asshole Dave is kind of growing on me.
Or maybe I’m just that desperate.
“WHAT DIDAsshole Dave want?” Chris asks. We’re stopped at a taco truck on our way back home from BOA. Chris is putting back five tacos to my two.
I’m not really sure what Asshole Dave wants, but I’m curious enough to find out. Whether it’s bogus or not, Chris doesn’t need to know about it.
“He has some decks he’s trying to sell,” I tell him. That’s two lies I’ve told Chris today, a new record.
“I didn’t know you were looking for a new deck.”
“You know how it is. I’m nevernotlooking.”
“You should let me buy you one for your birthday.”
I smile at that and also feel a little bad for lying to him. He’s so damn thoughtful. “I’ll let you know if I see something I like.”
“You were really shredding it out there. You could probably go pro, you know?”
I shake my head. “I doubt it.”
“Seriously, Theo.”
Chris talks to me like a proud parent sometimes. Feels a little dangerous to believe him, like when your mom tells you you’re the most handsome boy ever.
“Might take all the fun out of it, if it were, like, a job,” I say.
Chris scowls at that. “Yeah, skateboarding for a living, what a drag. Mowing lawns is so much more fun.”
“Mowing lawns is just to get my foot in the door. Maybe I’ll take over Lawson’s Lawns one day.” He shakes his head, and I smile. It’s really not the worst job in the world. I like being outside, and there’s a lot of satisfaction in taking a rangy, overgrown lawn and making it look neat and tidy. I don’t even mind the chore of picking all the dead petals from the flowers for our more affluent clientele. I’m kind of a neat freak in that way.
“You’d better aim higher than that, Killer.” Chris reaches over and messes up my hair so that I have to finger comb it to get it out of my eyes. I pretend to be irritated even though I secretly love it.
