Page 45 of Dear Mr. Brody
“Don’t you dare, that’s expensive.” He tried to grab it out of my hand, but I held it over his head like I was a twelve-year-old boy fighting with his brother for the “good” game controller.
“But I don’t want to smell like jizz all day,” I whined, an evil grin stretching across my face as I threatened to spray his precious perfume. However, unlike my roommate, I wasn’t a dick. After a minute, I set the bottle on the countertop and picked up my deodorant, instead.
“You’re disgusting. And quite frankly it’s alarming…” he said, waving his hand in front of my face. “You sit in your room all night jacking off like some hard-up, pimply teenager. You need real dick, man.”
“Friday.”
“What?” he asked, caught off guard, and I pushed by him.
“I’m meeting James on Friday,” I repeated. “The guy from Pegasus.”
Back in my room, I pocketed my phone and slid my backpack over my shoulders.
“Some place public, I hope?”
“Yeah, a pub in Decatur,” I assured him, and he crinkled his nose. “Hell… Marcos. Don’t worry, I’ll give you the address and let you know I’m alive periodically throughout the night. Unless I’m too busy, like you said… getting real dick.”
Marcos’s teasing smile sobered. “You act like I’m crazy for being worried.”
“You act like I’ve…you’venever hooked up with a guy from an app before.”
“Point made, but I—”
“I haven’t forgotten what happened…” We stared at each other for a few seconds, and he crossed his arms. “I know how to be careful.”
“What’s the name of the pub?”
“Brick Store.”
“How will you know it’s him?” he asked. “Will you bring a copy of your favorite book like that movie… shit, what’s it called?”
“Fuck if I know.”
“You’ve Got Mail,” he said as he snapped his fingers.
“Never heard of it.” I made a move to pass him, and he blocked me.
“What’s the plan, then? Do you know what he looks like now?”
“No… We agreed to text each other when we got there and send a picture of what we’re wearing.”
“Why not send a picture of your face?” he asked.
“It kills the suspense.” I smirked and he dropped his arms to his side.
“That’s dumb.”
I laughed and tried to step past him, but he wouldn’t budge. “I’ve got to go, Marcos. I’m already forty-five minutes late.”
His lips parted into a slow grin. “You never answered my question, though.”
Exhaling an annoyed breath, my head tipped back, and I stared at the ceiling. “What question?”
“Guess who I saw last night?”
“Will you move so I can go to work if I let you tell me?”
“Yes.” His crooked smile was anything but humble.