Page 14 of Me Three
His beard has grown a little since I last saw him, which makes his face darker, but also more tempting. Mixed with the thick eyebrows, the penetrating gaze, and those thick lips, he’s sin on a cream cracker.
“How are you?” he asks, his hands going all the way into the pockets of his jeans.
At least he’s smiling.
“I’m-I’m good, thanks. Just getting some pizza. You?” I say.
Duh! Of course. I’m in a pizza place. What else would I be getting? Nicely done, Tru. What else wouldhebe getting?
“Big plans for tonight then?” he chuckles.
I shrug.
“Just hanging out with friends. What are you still doing here? Don’t you and Carter live on the other side of town? Unless you don’t live together and you just meet at his place for… you know,” I say and sigh internally.
Why would I say that? It’s none of my business why he’s still here, or who he lives with. And why would I refer to Carter by his first name?
“We do. We were at the bar across the street, so we thought we’d grab some pizza on the way home. We love this place,” he says.
That makes sense. Perfect sense. And I’m sure they’ll go home and touch each other, suck each other, eat each other, and I’ll be sitting in a dorm trying to defeat some bad guys and feeling completely left out when I don’t even have the right to feel that. Sometimes, life sucks balls. And sometimes it just sucks.
“Yeah, Dough Bros is probably the best pizza in town,” I say.
“I don’t know. I like Gustavo’s, too,” he says.
“I prefer their pasta dishes. Their pizzas are too thin.”
“That’s why I love their pizzas. They’re authentic Italian,” Everett says.
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never even left the State,” I tell him, sounding every bit as pathetic as I feel.
It’s just that the opportunity never came. And I started college straight away, so I never got the chance. Maybe I can travel on summer break. Or when I graduate. If I can get a job to save some cash first.
“You should go to Italy, if you get a chance. It’s wonderful there. History on every footstep. Culture in every corner. I bet you’d love it there.”
How can a guy that was so quiet during our “private” time be so vocal and warm and cute now? He gave me the impression of this gruff, grumpy guy, but yet he’s standing here brightening up the place with his personality.
“I hope I can one day,” I tell him, and my name is called. “Excuse me.”
I go up to the counter and pick up my four pizzas and walk back to Everett.
“It was nice seeing you,” I tell him.
“That’s a lot of pizza,” he laughs. “It was nice seeing you, too, kid.”
I raise an eyebrow at the “kid” before smiling at him.
“Oh, I meant to ask you on Tuesday, but you escaped me before I could,” he says, and I turn around again. “What is it you’re studying?”
He wanted to talk to me on Tuesday? Why?
Probably to ask me to keep what happened between us and Carter a secret. Right? Why would he want to speak to me otherwise?
“Majoring in Fine Arts with a minor in Art History,” I tell him, and I expect him to panic.
I’ve had my moments of panic since I realized on Tuesday that I’d probably have to deal with him for the next three and a half years until I graduate, in one capacity or the other.
But he doesn’t. Instead, his smile deepens and his eyes become even more heart-warming. “That’s amazing,” he says. “I-uh-I’m-I’m here for you, if you need anything.”
