Page 2 of How to Lose at Love

“Two months.”

Two months? Is he being serious? That’s not a relationship. That’s…that’s…dating. Or ‘seeing each other’, as some people say.

I squint over at him. “And you’resureshe’s your girlfriend? That doesn’t seem like an awful long time. I got eggs in my fridge older than that.”

“You have eggs older than that? That’s actually disgusting.” Diego laughs, watching as I fill my water bottle.

I roll my eyes. “It was a metaphor.”

“Dude, are you going to help me or not?”

Without hesitating, I give him a firm “Not” before walking back to my cubby. I need to pack my shit up and get gone so I’m not late for my athletic trainer, Shelby, who hates it when I’m late. And I’m almost always late.

As I’m stuffing things in my bag, Diego gets even closer, encroaching on my personal space with his nonsense.

“You’re seriously not going to help me?”

“Help you withwhat?”

Here I am listening to his bullshit, the whining—what more does the dude want from me? I’m not a relationship counselor.

Glancing up, I catch sight of myself in the small mirror inside my cubby, the scruff covering my cheeks, jaw, and chin.

Damn, I need a shave.

On the other hand, it’s getting cold, and the fur on my face helps on those long walks to class.

On the other hand, I’m starting to look like a caveman.

Whatever.

Who gives a shit?

“I need help breaking things off with Ryann.”

This gives me pause. “Her name is Ryann?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s a guy’s name.”

Diego rolls his eyes. “Can you focus for one second?”

“I’d focus if I gave two shits.”

“Dude, I’m yourmejor amigo. You have to help me out.”

Whoa, where did that come from? The closest people I have as best friends are my brothers because family doesn’t fuck you over, and family doesn’t ask you to do things like break up with their girlfriend.

I’m Diego’s best friend? Since when? “Helping you out is one thing. Breaking up with a chick for you is another.” I heft my duffle over my shoulder. “Why are you bein’ so dramatic? Send her a text and be done with it. Also, stop callin’ me dude.”

Bein’ so dramatic…

I cringe hearing my Southern accent creeping in; it’s something I’ve been trying to lose, but man, when I get salty with someone, it tends to slip out.

“I told you…I’ve never had a girlfriend before.” His hands are splayed as he pleads with me.

I snort. Big deal if he’s never had a girlfriend before—as if that’s an excuse for being a dipshit. “I’m telling you it’s been two months and she’s not really your girlfriend. Just stop messaging her back. She’ll get the hint.” I walk toward the exit.

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