Page 14 of Dire Straights

It was Saturday, so no swim practice. I’d already hit the gym that morning, and my brain was burned out from scouring my biology textbook. I needed a break from studying. I’d exhausted all the good social media feeds and my brain still wasn’t buzzing with dopamine, so as a desperate last resort I switched over to Facebook. Sure, it was mostly outdated and unfunny memes about minions and not being able to function without coffee in the morning, but maybe for once someone would post something interesting.

Regret instantly consumed me as I hit a post from my mom complaining about my dad being late to pick up the twins for his weekend. It wasn’t even remotely vague or subtle, she’d literally used his name. And under the post were comments from my aunts and my mom’s friends with angry emojis and generic responses about men.

Rolling my eyes to the ceiling, I closed out the app and dropped my phone onto my nightstand. She obviously had no idea how insanely embarrassing it was that she was always airing out our family’s dirty laundry on Facebook. But it’s not like my dad was any better, always asking us what she was spending his child support payments on and bringing up shit from the past that she’d nagged him over.

Turning over, I groaned lightly as I shoved my face into my pillow. College was so fucking different than I’d expected. I wasn’t used to this restlessness, or feeling so unfulfilled. And how the hell was I feeling so shitty when I was passing all my classes, excelling in athletics, and having at least somewhat of a decent social life? I was checking all the boxes, but I didn’t feel like I was succeeding in anything. I was lost, and it seemed like I was the only one feeling that way.

Everyone else was so settled, so comfortable already. Even Ren, who seemed to have a slew of insecurities, was cozy and nestled into his little friend group. Even if they were basically the human representation of the Island of Misfit Toys. But even so, I’d actually had fun hanging out with them, which was a hell of a lot more than I could say for the times I’d been forced to spend time with my teammates outside of practices.

I hadn’t hung out with Ren since that night, since we’d both been kind of busy with classes and homework and whatever else. But we’d set up our next session to work on the assignment for today. Maybe it was a stupid idea to go to a popular pizza place right on the beach on the nicest Saturday we’d had since I’d come to the school, but whatever. We’d been texting here and there, which felt kind of weird. Conversations with guy friends through text usually consisted of asking what was up, do you want to hang out, and then yeah or no.

But we were actually discussing things and talking about ourselves. I’d found out he was going for a software engineeringdegree, which definitely tracked. What other kind of career would a dweeb like that be interested in? When I’d told him I was getting mine in sports medicine, he sent a bunch of emojis of a face with dollar signs for eyes and said I would definitely be really successful. Complete dork. And yet, I couldn’t stop responding and looking forward to his messages.

Before heading out, I glanced at myself in the mirror. My shirt was wrinkled, so I grabbed a new one from the drawer. I kept a pretty casual hairstyle, most days I just rubbed a bit of pomade through it after my post-swim shower to give it some texture, so I was okay there. Grabbing my cologne off the dresser, I suddenly froze, narrowing my eyes at my reflection. What the fuck was I doing? Slowly setting it back down, I shook my head. I wasn’t going on a date. I was getting pizza and working on an assignment. It didn’t matter if I looked or smelled good.

When I got to Luciano’s, it was packed. I wasn’t surprised. It was family-owned, so the prices were good and the portions were big, and right on the beach. They also had healthy options like cauliflower crust, so I wouldn’t be completely decimating my calories for the day without hitting my macros.

I scanned the room for Ren, eyes roaming over the simple booths and tables. It was mostly couples and groups, the sound of mindless chatter filling up the space so I could barely hear myself think. As I walked a few steps inside, glancing around, I finally heard his voice from the direction of the booths in the back. And he sounded harassed.

“But like I said, I’m meeting someone!” I heard him say. As I got closer, I saw there was a guy in board shorts standing at the booth with a girl in a bikini top and shorts at his side. He was hulking over the table in what I’m sure he thought was an intimidating manner.

“Well, your friend ain’t here,” he said. “It’s bullshit, taking up a whole booth just for yourself. Go sit at the bar.”

“I said he’s coming,” Ren argued, steadfastly holding his backpack down onto the table, the universal sign forreserved. Bless his loyal and courageous heart. “I’m not moving.”

“Do you really want to get your ass kicked over a seat?” The girl asked, tossing her mane of blonde hair over her shoulder as she put a hand on her hip.

“Hey, can you fucking move?” I finally piped up, tired of watching the exchange. There were other booths that only had one person in them, but this sweaty, middle-aged asshole had obviously thought Ren would be an easy target for snagging one. “I’m trying to sit down.”

The guy whirled to face me, but his aggressive posture instantly wilted once he took in my appearance. I’d never been the biggest guy on any team I’d been on but my height, broad shoulders, and defined arms were a pretty obvious indicator that I was in better shape than this random beach slob.

When he struggled to come up with some kind of response, I gave him an incredulous look. “Yeah, I meant you. Get out of my way. I’m trying to sit down.” I pushed past him, checking him with my shoulder as I plopped down across the table from Ren, who stared up at the guy like a minimum wage cashier who’d just been saved from a Karen by his store manager. I stared up at the guy expectantly, but he only muttered something about snot-nosed brats under his breath and stalked off, his spluttering girlfriend following close behind.

“Assholes,” I said, watching them until they disappeared from sight before turning back to him. “Did you order anything yet?”

“No, I was waiting for you,” he said, then glanced at the time on his phone. “Hey, you’re a little bit early! Thanks for not making me wait.”

“… Yeah. No problem.” Did he have to sound so pathetically grateful and sweet all the time? It was hard to know how to respond. “Do you know what you want? We should probably put something in now, so we don’t starve waiting for it.”

We decided to split a pizza. He agreed to the cauliflower crust, to my relief. I wasn’t too picky about toppings, so I thought for once I’d be easygoing and tell him to just get everything on it.

“Unless there’s something you don’t like, then you can just leave it off.”

“Oh. Um…” He hesitated, looking at me hesitantly. “Actually, I don’t really like any toppings. I like cheese pizza.”

“No toppings?” I repeated, hoping he was screwing with me. Then again, he definitely wasn’t theit’s a prank brotype. He was just weird. “Like, none at all?”

“I mean, I can just pick everything off!” He offered quickly, wringing his hands together on top of the table.

I scoffed, shaking my head. “There’d be nothing but crust left. Let’s just get it half and half.”

“Oh! That’s a really good idea! Let’s do that!”

The suggestion of getting a half-and-half pizza didn’t feel worthy of the adoration and praise in his voice, so I could only clear my throat. “Why don’t you go order it, and I’ll guard the table.” A job that he apparently couldn’t handle without me. What made it really funny was that when I’d been scared shitless of the movie the night before, I’d been the one gripping onto him, as if he could protect me from any chainsaw-wielding maniacs that happened to waltz onto campus. Of course, it would have taken some very creative forms of torture to get me to ever admit any of that out loud. At least it had been dark so no one else could have seen. And he was way too nice to tease me about it.

When he returned a few minutes later, he handed me a plastic tumbler with the restaurant’s logo on it and a paper-wrapped straw. The soda dispenser machine had a pretty good variety, but I fell back on my old faithful, orange soda with a little bit of Sprite in it. It was a combo I’d discovered purely by accident, but it was a favorite. When I got back to the table, Ren’s eyes darted from my cup to my face a few times.

“Hey, did you mix orange and Sprite together?” He asked.

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