Gravity (Greenford #2) - Romeo Alexander Page 0,27

loved the size and shape of Sam’s ass.

“Alright, let me see it,” Caleb said.

Sam glanced back at him, cocking his head. “See what?”

Caleb rolled his eyes. “I know you’ve got one of your shirts under that jacket. Let’s see it.”

Sam laughed, unzipping his loose plain gray jacket to show the shirt beneath. Under it was a light blue shirt with a cartoon werewolf in the middle of it. The ‘dangerous’ beast was crouched down onto his forearms, a big bushy tail behind it with movement marks to show constant wagging. In front of it was a disembodied arm, holding out a steak to the creature, whose tongue was lolling out happily. Above it were the words “Who’s a good boy?”.

“Of course,” Caleb said with a laugh. “Because where there’s you, there’s going to be a goofy shirt or colorful underwear.”

Sam beamed at him, zipping the coat back up. “I just got that a couple of weeks ago. Kept forgetting to wear it.”

“Do you wear stuff like that to class?” Caleb asked.

Sam chuckled, beginning the short walk to the restaurant. “You bet. Well, when I don’t think I’m going to have to go to court or something.”

“I’m sure the students just love it.”

“Pretty sure they think I’m weird. Which is fine because I definitely am okay with being weird, just so long as I don’t become one of the crazy professors.”

Caleb was sure he’d heard Sam say something about that before. “Alright, I’ll bite. Who are the crazy professors?”

Sam chuckled as he opened the door for him. “See, you’re lucky, working out of the way on campus, you don’t have to meet them.”

“Thank you,” Caleb said, stepping through the open door and into the restaurant. “It would still be nice to have a warning.”

“True,” Sam said, pausing long enough to tell the hostess it would be the two of them and a booth on the patio would be perfect. “So, there’s Professor Raine. Who legally changed their last name to Raine, by the way. And yes, that’s rain, with an ‘e’ slapped on the end because he thought it sounded fancier, according to him.”

“Okay,” Caleb said as they were led through the restaurant and out the double doors. “So far, not so crazy.”

“Right, until you somehow get him on the subject of his stuffed animals,” Sam said as they were seated.

They took a moment to order their first drinks and appetizers before Caleb addressed that. “Right, well, stuffed animals in a full-grown man might be a little strange, but I wouldn’t call that crazy.”

Sam shook his head, positively grinning. “No, no, you’re misunderstanding. I’m talking taxidermy stuffed.”

“Oh. So he’s a hunter?”

“Nope. Never been further than a few feet into the woods, doesn’t even own a hunting weapon. Trust me, I checked.”

Caleb thanked the server as their drinks were set before them. “Bio major?”

Sam chuckled. “Teaches low to mid-level math.”

“So, he just really likes dead stuffed animals?”

“And all sorts too. We’re talking about everything from chipmunks to reptiles all the way up to big animals like bears and elk. And all of them are posed.”

“Well, that’s normal for taxidermy, isn’t it?”

“Is it normal to have a chipmunk sitting in a tiny saddle riding a stuffed deer? Or have a lizard boxing a rabbit?”

Caleb blinked at that. “Well...no.”

“And that’s not even mentioning how often the guy will bring it up,” Sam said, pausing to take a big drink. “Like, you can do your best to avoid the subject, but he’ll always find a way to bring it back to his collection. And he will absolutely pin you into a conversation as he goes over his favorite pieces, which is like, all of them. Where he got them, where the animals came from, how much he paid for this one and that one. He’ll go on for absolutely hours if you let him. Best thing you can do is avoid him.”

“I’ll...keep that in mind,” Caleb said. “Anyone else?”

Sam’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, you have no idea.”

So as they worked through their appetizers and their first couple of drinks, Sam began to regale him with stories. There was Professor Arden, a sculptor and art teacher, who was prone to reciting parts of poems in the middle of a conversation. Usually very obscure and oblique ones at that. If you didn’t know what she was trying to say, she would break down every part of it in apparently the most condescending manner possible.

Caleb’s personal favorite, from what he’d heard, had to be Professor Stul. An elderly history