Page 22 of Romance Languages

I had zero opinion on this. I wanted to crawl back into bed.

“I, uh, like salt?”

“And why is H-2-O a nickname for water anyway? It has more syllables than water, and thus by definition defeats the purpose of being a nickname. It would be like Julian being a nickname for J.”

“Yeah.” My head pounded. I longed for an exit ramp off this conversation. “You’re right.”

As Chase launched into more examples of chemistry equations that should be colloquial sayings, Seamus entered the lounge. I slumped down in my chair, hoping the cushions swallowed me whole.

He greeted another teacher by the coffee machine. I peeked over my chair. Damn, he looked good. His polo clung against his chest, and his chinos framed his tight butt. He didn’t have some gymrat body, but real ones knew what was under there.

What did he look like naked? Had he actually offered me the opportunity to find out?

“What do you think about that?” Chase asked.

I whipped my head back to him. “What?”

“Let’s stop calling it carbon monoxide. Just call it C-O. It’s cleaner. Like how Facebook dropped theThe. ‘Oh, we have to install a C-O detector.’ I just saved you three syllables!” He slapped the chair arm.

Even hangover-free, I couldn’t handle this conversation, not when Seamus was in the same room as me less than twenty-four hours after offering to deflower me.

Why was I using the word deflower? He offered to fuck me.

“Chase. I need coffee.”

“You’re drinking coffee.”

“I need more.” I peeked over my chair, but Seamus was still by the coffee machine, probably regaling Mrs. Rogalsky about how he discovered South Rock High employed a thirty-five-year-old gay man who’d never seen another cock up close.

I remained locked in my seat and poured the last drops of my drink into my mouth.

“Hello, gentlemen.” Seamus’s voice rattled behind me. I clenched my eyes shut.

“Seamus, it’s a good thing you’re here,” said Chase. “The next time you need to borrow salt, say ‘Pass me the N-A-C-L.’ I want to start a movement.”

“You got it, Chase.”

I stared down at my empty coffee cup, even though Seamus’s beautiful face was directly above me.

“Maybe in your honor, we should blast some N-A-C-L and Pepa,” Seamus said. Bless him for playing along. He was always such a good sport.

“Yes! What’s that song they sing again?”

Seamus sat on the arm of my chair and stared directly at me. It was inevitable to meet his eyes. “Let’s Talk About Sex.”

“That’s it! Putting that on my Spotify playlist in three, two, one,” Chase said as he pulled out his phone. “I need a refill. You want one, Julian?”

Seamus was still looking at me with his oceanic eyes, and I let myself get swept out to sea. “No. I think I’m good.”

Chase went to the coffeemaker, leaving us alone.

“Here.” Seamus handed over his coffee cup, sensing that I really needed it. “So…”

“So.” I gulped down the coffee, hoping it washed away this awkward lump in my throat. “Was I super drunk last night or did we agree to…”

“Yes to both.”

“Oh. Okay. Um, I was joking. You were joking, too. When people drink, they…joke.” I tried giving him a not-so-smooth out.

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