Seconds pass and he puts his hand on it, the spine thudding to the table. “I need to talk to you.”
“And I don’t want to talk to you.” I go to lift the book again as a blinder, but he slides it towards his body, taking my textbook hostage.
“I have to study,” I say in that screechy tone.
“Do you always whine?”
I glare. “Do you always insult people when you want something?” I wish Lo was here. He’d be able to shoo this guy away without a problem. Why don’t my words have the same effect?
“Only you,” he muses, flipping through my book and shutting it closed. “Biology? Are you a freshman or something?”
I blush. “I put off some of my core credits.” I reach out to snatch the book, but he jerks it away from me again.
“I’ll give this back to you after you hear me out.”
“Is it about alcohol?”
“No.”
“Is it about Lo?”
“Not entirely.”
“Are you going to be mean?”
He leans back, his chair creaking, and lets out a short laugh. “I don’t know. I could be depending on the direction of this conversation. How’s that?”
Good enough. “Fine.” I motion for him to continue and then cross my arms over my chest.
He catches the haughty movement and manages to stifle a smartass comment, cutting to the point. “When I was at your apartment, I saw your posters from Comic-Con. I’m a freelance writer for The Philadelphia Chronicle and they’re paying me to go to the convention. Thing is, I have no idea what to expect or what it entails or even what to do.”
I figure out the rest. “And you thought we may know?” I didn’t expect him to ask me that.
“I was hoping I could talk with Lo about it.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “You want to talk to my boyfriend? About Comic-Con?” That’s not weird. “Is this really about comics, Ryke?”
“You think I’m lying?”
“Kind of, yeah.”
He rolls his eyes. “Look, I’m a journalism major. I’d rather talk to a primary source about Comic-Con than quote from Wikipedia and blogs.”
“I thought you said you needed help learning what Comic-Con entails, not a quote.” Ha! I caught him in his lie.
Ryke doesn’t even flinch. “That too.” He rubs his lips in thought. “Look, maybe I can at least borrow some of his comics and he can give me some highlights of characters and conflicts.”
I stare at him, still skeptical. “You said this wasn’t about Lo’s problem, right?”
“You mean his alcohol addiction.”
I glower. He’s pushing it. I go to stand up and leave. Screw the bio book—he can have it. Ryke quickly extends his hands to stop me.
“I’m sorry. I can be insensitive sometimes.”
I stay in my seat, waiting.
“This isn’t about alcohol.”
“Do you have a crush on him or something?”
Ryke jerks back in surprise and cringes. “What? Why the hell would you think that?”
“I don’t know,” I feign confusion. “You keep asking about his comics. His advice about Comic-Con. You do realize, I have comics too and I went to Comic-Con with him.”
He groans. “Why do you have to make this so difficult? I’m asking for help. From you, from Lo, from whomever knows the difference between whatever costume you were wearing and Wolverine.”
“There are a lot of other people that can help you.” I will continue to distrust Ryke. Literally, his responses grate on every nerve in my body. It’s impossible to be attracted to someone that shrivels my insides.
“I don’t want their help. I want yours.”
Before I make sense of that, my phone buzzes on the table. Ryke glances at the name in the text box. “Lo,” he says. “Maybe you can ask him if it’s okay.”
“He will say no,” I shoot back.
“You don’t know that.”
“You don’t know Lo,” I retort and click into the text.
Can I watch porn with you tonight? You clock more time with your remote than me. Jealous. – Lo
I clutch my phone to my chest, hoping Ryke didn’t catch a peek. My elbows blush anyway.
“You’re turning red.”
“It’s hot in here,” I mumble and clear my throat. “I don’t know what more to tell you.”
“Say ‘yes, Ryke, I’ll help you this one time since I stopped Matt from beating the shit out of my boyfriend.’”