“Ex,” I correct softly, allowing myself a smile. I must have talked about her more than I realized.
“What’d you say?” Bent asks, blowing into his hands.
“I said ex-girlfriend. Cindy and I broke up.”
“I know that, too.” Any trace of a smile disappears. “We make it our business to know everything about Pride prospects.”
Any ease between us withers. Tension reclaims my shoulders.
“Well you can stay out of my business because I’m not a prospect anymore.” I turn to begin the ten-minute walk to the laundromat where Banner’s already studying.
“I can probably smooth things over with the rest of the group and pressure Prescott to let you in,” he calls after me. “That was Prescott’s thing. No one else wanted to do it.”
I shake my head and keep walking, letting my middle finger raised in the air do my talking for me. After a few moments, the sound of the door slamming shut signals that Bent gave up and went back inside.
Good. I need all ten minutes to figure out what I’m going to do.
Tonight was supposed to be the night. The night I laid my cards on the table and told Banner how I feel.
Feel?
Is that the right word?
I don’t “feel” for girls. I fuck them. And if I want to be the only one for a little while, I date them. And once I don’t care if someone else has them, then I stop. But obviously there’s a pattern.
I mean, with the fucking and all.
It’s more than that with Banner, though. Prescott says she’s fat. Honestly, maybe she is a little chubby. Who knows under the oversized sweatshirts she always wears. I love the way she looks, but that’s not it. She’s not my usual type. With Cindy, I knew within two minutes how I would get her. I’m a calculating motherfucker, instantly and constantly assessing weaknesses and tendencies to get what I want. Most people are simple, easy to figure out. But Banner has an algorithm I haven’t solved yet.
Maybe tonight I will.
2
Jared
I had never been to a laundromat before college.
Growing up, Susan, my stepmother, did our laundry on the weekends. She probably spoiled us—me, my dad, and my stepbrother, August. Our clothes magically appeared in drawers and closets, washed, hung, folded, and fresh-scented. It wasn’t until college that I realized what a pain in the ass it is to do your own laundry.