Page 37 of The Play

“Yeah right. You don’t even want a boyfriend.”

“True.”

I carry the stack of neatly folded shirts to Corinne’s second-hand wooden dresser. “Come on, let’s put all this random stuff away and then dive back into the closet. The closet is the fun part.”

“The things that bring you joy…” She sighs. “You’re so fucking weird, Demi.”

I spend a couple more hours with Corinne, then walk the short distance into the heart of town. TJ meets me at the sushi place, which ends up being phenomenal, so naturally I text my boyfriend all about it on the Uber ride back to campus, because good food gets me excited and when I’m excited I must share it with Nico.

NICO: I think u devalue the currency of the orgasm whenever u call a meal “orgasmic.”

ME: Well, I think you underappreciate good food. And that’s practically a crime b/c you’re Cuban and food is in your blood.

HIM: Nah.

ME: I’m telling your mom you said that.

HIM: Don’t u dare.

ME: I’m hitting the gym soon. Be home around 9. Wanna come by after you’re done with the boys?

HIM: Prolly not, bb. Think we’re gonna go back to Steve’s and have a Fortnite marathon.

I’m only a smidge disappointed. We didn’t have plans, so I can’t fault him for wanting to continue hanging out with his friends, the people he originally had plans with.

ME: OK. Have fun! Love you.

NICO: Love u too bb <3 <3 <3 <3

“I miss blowjobs,” Hunter declares at the gym an hour later.

The forlorn assertion triggers a burst of laughter from me, which nearly results in me tripping on the treadmill. It’s been a week since we’ve seen each other, and obviously his monk status is still solidly intact.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I tell him.

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to my dick.”

Snorting, I dip my gaze south. Not gonna lie—his package is kind of impressive beneath his black track pants. I make a magnanimous gesture at his crotch. “I’m sincerely sorry for your recent troubles, Hunter’s dick.”

Hunter’s dick’s owner nods soberly. “He appreciates the sentiment.”

This fucking guy. He is either the best or the worst. I still haven’t decided.

With that said, he’s definitely the worst gym buddy. For the past forty minutes, we’ve been side-by-side on our respective treadmillswithout altering the brisk pace. But now I’m waning. It’s an admission of defeat when I flick my finger on the incline button to make the workout a bit easier.

Mr. Hockey Star has barely broken a sweat. A slight sheen coats his forehead and that’s about it. Meanwhile, I’m a sweaty mess. Thank God I’m not romantically interested in him, otherwise I’d be incredibly self-conscious and embarrassed about perspiring this much. Even Nico hasn’t seen me at my sweatiest.

“Aww, does someone need a break?” Hunter mocks.

“Nope, just a flatter path.”

“Wimp.”

“Monk.”

“You gotta stop using that as an insult.Somepeople consider my celibacy admirable.”

“Says the guy who’s moaning about missing blowjobs.”

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