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“D’Angelo.”
I finally pulled my head through the collar.
Omar leaned against the opposite wall. “He’s an idiot.”
A defensive answer rose to the surface immediately. “He’s complicated.”
Omar gave me another look.
I stared at him. Then sighed. “Fuck.”
“Yup.”
I plopped down on the bench. Omar stayed where he was.
“He practically glared holes through my skull after I asked you, you know,” Omar said after a few more moments of awkwardness.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” I insisted, shaking my head before adding, “It doesn’t.”
“It means he looked like he wanted to murder me with a plastic cafeteria fork.”
“That’s just Dee’s happy face.”
Omar laughed. I didn’t because my chest hurt again.
“He told me to go.” The words came out quieter than I intended, and Omar appeared a little shocked for once.
“He actually said that? Told you to go out with me?”
I nodded. “So I did.”
“And now you’re here trying to prove something.”
“I’m not proving anything.”
Omar’s eyes dropped pointedly towards my shorts. “Five minutes ago, you were considering letting me take those off.”
My face burned. “All that proves is that I have excellent judgment.”
“It proves you’re hurting.” Omar pushed away from the wall and stopped in front of me. He held out a towel in my direction.
I took it, the only damn thing I could accept from him apparently.
“I like you,” he said. “But I’m not going to be the guy you use to punish yourself because D’Angelo is too scared to admit he wants you too.”
“I wasn’t using you.”
“I know.” Omar gave me a small smile. “You were trying. That’s enough for me.”
I stared at the towel in my hands. “I’m sorry.”
“I know,” he repeated and I heard his steps start towards the door.
“Omar?” I called out to him. He looked back and I swallowed. “You’re a really good person.”
He stared at me for two full seconds and then nodded before walking out of the locker room entirely.
I dropped my face into my hands. “You stupid fucking moron. Way to go, Alvin. Fuck over the only guy who wants you. Fuck my entire goddamn life.”
