“I was walking to lunch with another TA—”
“A girl?” he interrupts, sounding disappointed.
“Bethany.”
Oz winces. He knows there’s history there. I thought he might have been interested in her for a little while, which was okay because I don’t dislike her, and I figured that’s how our life would go. He would fall in love, and I would…be there.
“Yeah, well, I panicked and told her to email me for my hours if she needed something when she said hello.” He pulls his head back and sucks air through his teeth. “Bethany thought she was being helpful when she told Waylynn we were on a lunch date.”
“Jesus,” Oz hisses and looks at the door. “You’re lucky she didn’t claw your eyes out.”
“She told us to enjoy the date and excused herself.”
“That sounds terrifying,” he whispers in awe. “Why does that seem worse?”
“Because she made walking away look easy,” I admit, and he nods slowly.
“What happened after that?”
“She ignored me for several hours. I probably have an ulcer. Then I badgered her until she let me come over and explain, then she suggested she shouldn’t even talk to me anymore because I’m her teacher. I thought I was losing her, so I admitted I’m pretty much obsessed with her.”
“And that worked?” His eyes are wide.
“She actually let me in the house then.”
“Wait, she didn’t even let you in?”
“No, we sat over there.” I point to the bushes.
“Man, you fucked up,” he mutters. “Did you tell her about Bethany? About…”
“No, I was fighting for my life.”
“Oh shit, I don’t think that’s good. You should have told her everything. Why were you such a whore?” He shoves my shoulder.
“Don’t act like it was just me,” I hedge.
“Yeah, well, she hasn’t caught me having dinner and lunch with my hookups.” His superior tone makes me want to punch him in the balls.
“It’s not like I was screwing around or something. They both approached me.”
“You need to cut that shit out.” He points.
“What should I do? Where a shirt that says, ‘Taken, do not speak to me’?”
“No, that would be worse. All the chicks you’ve blown off for years would try to get with you thinking you were ready to settle down or some shit. I don’t know how girls’ heads work.”
“Any other suggestions?”
“How about you just don’t give them a chance? Don’t be all aloof and tortured, they love that unavailable shit.”
“I’m not tortured,” I scoff.
Oswald gives me a blank stare. “Tragic backstory, brooding, too smart for your own good, and handsome as hell because you look just like me and I’m fucking gorgeous.”
“Shut the hell up. If anything, you look like me.” I can’t believe that’s my argument. “It doesn’t matter. She’s not upset anymore.” I rein the conversation back in.
“Lucky for you.”
