Page 21 of Shots on Net

“Exactly! Come on, let’s see what’s next.”

We walk abreast, meandering down the path and dodging running children. We’re both wearing short sleeved shirts, and every now and then our arms brush. Carter, with his tattoos and nose ring, has gotten several raised eyebrows and quite a few double-takes as he walks by. Hardly seeming to notice the people around us, he gives all his attention to me and the animals. For all his talk about occasionally bringing men and women home, he doesn’t seem to care much about dating. There are at least a dozen people, in this section of the zoo alone, who would happily go out with him if I asked for volunteers.

“What are you looking at?” Carter asks, frowning at me. I’ve been staring at him.

“You. Haven’t you noticed all the attention you’re getting?” I nod my head toward a group of young women, openly ogling him. When he looks in their direction, one of them waves at him, bravely. He scowls at her, and turns back to me.

“So?”

“Well, I don’t know. I guess I just don’t understand you, is all. You said you sometimes bring people home, but you haven’t. And evidently, it’s not for lack of options.”

There is an unrecognizable look on his face; the line between his eyebrows deepens as he frowns and looks down at his feet. I can tell he’s doing some quick thinking, and that I’ve made him uncomfortable.

“Never mind, I shouldn’t have—."

“I’ve met up with people a few times after practice. From dating apps,” he tells me, and then clarifies when I look at him in confusion. “For hook-ups. But no, you’re right, I haven’t brought any of them home.”

“Oh.” I feel strange, hearing this—a sort of uncomfortable, prickly sensation over my skin as I think about Carter going out and finding random people to sleep with. It makes me feel sad and a little bit lonely, which makes no sense. “Well…alright then.”

“Does that bother you?” He asks, sharply. His eyes are narrowed and his shoulders are thrown back, like he’s looking out for a fight.

“No. Well, yeah, I guess a little bit. You’re such a great guy; you deserve to be happy. You’re too good for random one-night stands.” I flinch, not liking the words even as I say them. I’m not trying to shame him for having casual sex; I just don’t understand it. I’ve never been able to wrap my mind around people’s ability to be intimate with someone they just met.

Carter makes a disgruntled noise and scowls at the polar bears. I wish I’d never started this conversation; I’ve ruined what had, thus far, been a perfect day. An apology is right on the tip of my tongue until he starts to speak. “One-night stands are all I’m good for, Zeke. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but people don’t particularly like me.”

I’m not sure if this is true. People avoid him because he radiates unfriendliness, not because they don’t like him. It’s probably more accurate to say people are intimidated by him. If anyone made an effort to know him, they’d see that he’s actually selfless, kind, and has a sharp sense of humor.

“I like you,” I tell him. He looks at me, and if I had to guess I’d say his expression was unhappy. But that can’t be right, can it? His scowl is fixed back in place a second later, and I wonder if I’d imagined the pain.

“I like you, too,” he says, gruffly, before gesturing at the polar bears. “Now, hit me with some knowledge.”

Grinning, I inch close enough to him that our arms brush. “Polar bears are the only member of the bear species to be considered a marine mammal.”

Carter raises an eyebrow at me. He hasn’t moved his arm away, and his skin is sun-warmed against my own. “Really?”

“Really. They’re also the largest species of bear and the largest land carnivore.”

“Huh…what about water? What’s the largest…aquatic carnivore?” He asks, looking down at me.

I squint, biting my lip and thinking hard. “Uhm, sperm whale, maybe? Yeah, I think that’s right.”

He shakes his head and makes a tsking noise with his tongue, adopting an exaggerated look of disappointment. “Really, Zeke? Guessing?”

Smiling, I bump him with my shoulder; he doesn’t budge. “Okay, okay, come on then. It’s time to look at the frogs—I’m about to blow your mind with all of these facts.” Linking my arm through his elbow, I pull him toward the Amphibian House. When I go to remove my arm, he tightens his and locks me in place.

“I cannot fathom how I’ve managed to survive this long without frog facts,” Carter says, so dryly that someone who didn’t know him would think he was being serious.

When we get to the Amphibian House, he lets go of my arm in favor of opening the door for me. We step inside the dark, humid room and pause to let our vision adjust to the low light. Someone walks in behind us and I feel Carter place a gentle hand on my upper back to steer me away from the door. When he drops his hand I feel a momentary pang of loss, and consider tucking my arm through his once more. Before I can, he sets off toward the first exhibit and I have nothing to do but follow.

We move slowly through the exhibits, Carter giving me ample time to expound on all the frogs that we see. He listens intently, whenever I talk, and it’s a heady feeling. I know I get a little too excited about things, and people’s attention spans start to wander while I’m talking. This doesn’t seem to happen with Carter, though; his eyes crinkle and his mouth turns down in a frown when he’s listening hard, and he’ll sometimes ask follow-up questions. Right now, he’s bent over with his face nearly pressed into the glass, peering intently at a red-eyed tree frog.

“It’s kind of cute,” he says, frowning.

“And, not poisonous!” I raise my eyebrows at him and he snorts, shaking his head. Straightening, he beckons for me to lead the way to the next exhibit. I feel like a zookeeper, taking him on a private tour. It’s ridiculously fun.

By the time we get through the entire zoo, it’s late in the day—we don’t have time to go home and change before going to my grandma’s house for dinner. Carter, settling into the driver’s seat and starting the car, looks relaxed. His shoulders are dropped away from his ears and there is an almost tranquil expression on his face. I wonder if he’s forgotten that he agreed to come to dinner.

“Do you still want to come to dinner, tonight?” I ask him, keeping my voice light even though I’m nervous to hear his answer. I’m desperate for his continued company; I want to keep this day going for as long as possible.

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