“Me neither,” I say, while wishing Dave would shut the hell up. He should know better than to tell that story. It makes me feel like a tool, not to mention that if Chris found out it was me, I’d be completely humiliated.
Later on, when no one else is around, Dave asks me if I’m coming over that afternoon. I tell him I’ve got stuff to do. I don’t want to give him any more material.
He keeps bugging me about it while I load up my backpack with what I need for that night. My academic classes are all AP and honors. Other than a lot of homework and some studying, the classes aren’t that hard, but I do need to keep up with it if I want to make that scholarship money rain down.
“Is it because of what I said earlier?” Dave asks.
I shrug and don’t meet his eyes. I’m not the best at feelings or speaking the words necessary to express them.
“Papi,” he says, the name he uses whenever he’s teasing me, or in moments like these, to get my hackles up.
“Don’t call me that.” I’m not in the mood for his mouth.
“It was just so damn funny, I couldn’t help it.”
“I don’t want you telling other people my business,” I practically growl.
“Yeah, I got that impression already,” he says with less humor.
It pisses me off that he hasn’t already apologized and I have to explain to him why what he did was shitty. “How would you feel if I shared completely personal things about you and you had to stand around and listen to everyone laugh about it?”
He crosses his arms and stares at me. “And you wouldn’t want Mitcham to find out, right?”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” I glance around to make sure no one can hear us. I feel like a whiny bitch, but damn if I don’t expect some things to stay private.
He sighs. “Nothing. Forget I said it.”
“This is about your mouth,” I remind him.
“Yeah, I know. Listen, I’m an asshole. It won’t happen again, okay? Come over today. I’ll make it up to you.”
I glance up and down the hallway. Ryanne catches my eye and waves. I wave back. I wonder if anyone else could guess at the topic of our conversation. Do we look like we’re having a lovers’ quarrel? Then I think, what if Dave decides to tell people he’s gay or that we’ve been hooking up? I’m not even completely sure I’m gay. The guys at our school who are out seem so sure about it. Maybe I’m not gay enough. Like, a seven out of ten on the gayometer. Ugh, my mind is spinning and I can’t make it stop. There are all these consequences to what Dave and I are doing that I really don’t want to deal with.
“Theo?” Dave asks because I still haven’t answered him.
“I don’t know,” I say, which is the best I can muster without giving in completely. Dave is good with his hands and his mouth. And even when he’s being an asshole, he’s still kind of funny. I have fun when we’re together, and it feelsreallygood. It’s nice to be wanted.
Chris comes up then, and Dave acts like we were talking about football, which is a dead giveaway because other than playing Madden with Chris from time to time, I don’t keep up with football and Dave knows that.
“Go, Dolphins,” Dave says like a smartass. He once went on a ten-minute diatribe about how bad the Dolphins suck, detailing just about every awful season they’ve had for the past two decades. I’m not a huge fan, but still, you don’t rip on the Dolphins to someone from South Florida. It’s poor form.
Chris glares at Dave until he bows slightly and walks away. Chris has been chilly with me lately, both of us going out of our way to be extra polite, which is a sure sign that something’s wrong. We walk out together to the student parking lot, and I try to shake off the conversation I just had with Dave.
“Your birthday’s next weekend,” Chris says. “The party’s coming together, in case you’re wondering.”
My sister and he both seem a little put out that I haven’t been involved with the planning, even though I told them from the start I’m not into it.
“I should probably practice my driving before Friday.” The party’s on Saturday, but our actual birthday’s the day before. I want to pass my driving test on the first go-round.
“We can practice now if you want.”
“Yeah?”
“Sure. I don’t have anything else going on.”
Even though it’s technically illegal, Chris is the one who’s taken me out driving most of the time. My mom works a lot, and she’s tired when she gets home and just wants to relax. She also scares easily and sets me on edge when I’m driving.
“Sounds good,” I tell him. I pull out my phone to text Dave that I won’t be able to meet up with him. He responds by telling me I’m a gilipollas.
