Page 58 of Set on You

I’m officially done when a guy with a rattail grabs my waist, even after I turned him down politely on three separate occasions. He’s shamelessly relentless. One of those creatures who don’t understand the words “I’m not interested.” I’m like a bird in flight, taking refuge in a random booth across from a couple in the midst of a sloppy make-out session involving a lot of tongue and groping hands everywhere.

As I soberly observe everyone gyrating on the dance floor from the safety of the booth, all I can think about is how I don’t want any stranger, good-looking or not, to touch me right now.

In fact, the only person I want to hang out with is Scott, who, ironically, was merely an infuriating stranger only a month ago. Despite the short time we’ve known each other, the level of effortless comfort between us makes it impossible to imagine what it was like when I didn’t know him.

I look forward to turning over, bleary-eyed in the early morning, reading Scott’s texts, especially his random messages while he’s on night shift and I’m sleeping. The odd time when there isn’t a text from him, I feel a smidge of disappointment.

I can’t stop thinking about the way Scott’s dimples appear at the slightest smile, the glint in his eyes when he looks at me, how he doubles over with laughter at the smallest things, how easy it is to open up to him about anything, from the serious to the ridiculous, and how nice it feels tobein his presence, even if we’re not saying anything at all.

Rage-chugging the remainder of my sour drink is the only thing that remotely helps expunge invading thoughts of being with him in the fire truck today.

My feelings for him are confirmed when his name appears on my phone. I instantly light up, spellbound and humming with electricity, as if someone has just turned on the twinkle lights.

SCOTT:Just got off a call at this lady’s house. Guess how many ferrets she had in her apartment.

CRYSTAL:One too many?

SCOTT:Higher.

CRYSTAL:20?

SCOTT:23!!

CRYSTAL:WHAT???

SCOTT:Right? Disgusting. *GIF of immaculately dressed Tim Gunn flicking his dainty wrist in disgust*

CRYSTAL:Ferret people are weird.

SCOTT:Yup. A girl in my school had one. She brought it for show-and-tell one day in fourth grade. She let it eat out of her mouth... haven’t looked at a ferret the same way since.

CRYSTAL:Lmao.

CRYSTAL:Guess what? I’m at a club with Mel and Tara.

SCOTT:A club?

CRYSTAL:Yeah. They’re grinding on the dance floor right now with randoms. I’m just here to spectate and ward off the creepers.

SCOTT:Why aren’t you out on the D floor too?

CRYSTAL:I was... then a guy with a rattail ruined it.

SCOTT:Want me to come kick his ass?

CRYSTAL:How kind of you to offer. But I’m good. I prefer being a wallflower.

SCOTT:Haha I don’t blame you. I can’t stand clubs.

CRYSTAL:Really? I imagined it would be your hunting ground. Your natural habitat.

SCOTT:Wow, you make me sound like a massive creep.

My phone vibrates from his call, so I duck into the bathroom.

“Hey,” I yell over my ringing ears, even though the bathroom is ten times quieter, aside from the flushing of toilets and the squealing of two drunken girls sharing a stall.

“Do you still think I’m a huge fuckboy?” he asks.

---