I might throw up. There is a distinct possibility. Legit.

"Well? You ready or not?" David stares at me with these wide, expectant eyes.

I find myself squinting at him in return. "Um, no, I'm actually okay."

He cocks his head. I spot a feather from the boa stuck in his hair. I resist the urge to reach across this tiny table and pluck it out. "But what if it's juicy?"

"What?"

"Their text?"

"Yeah, nope, nah, I'm good."

When he goes to take a sip of his hot chocolate, I pick up mine, its warmth immediately burning through the thin paper cup material, right into my palms. Definitely too hot to drink. My phone buzzes in my back pocket again. I close my eyes, hoping that it's not the secret admirer, and praying that David doesn't keep pushing this.

"Why don't you want to open it?" he asks. I'm a little surprised by how straight-forward this question is. In my head, nothing about David is straight-forward. He's this stupid, overzealous puppy man, who is too busy thinking he's the main character to actually notice anyone else. Superficial. He's superficial.

"Why do you care?"

"Because my life is boring as hell, Nick, and I feel like I'm already too invested to back out now."

"I—how are you already invested?" I set my hot chocolate down on the table so I can really gesture with my hands. My fingers are splayed out while I chop the air with each word. "Nothing. Has. Happened. What even is there to be invested in?"

"Come on. I feel like I midwifed this entire situation into existence."

Oh, fuck right off. "You midwifed it?"

"Yeah. Like, y'know. I delivered it?"

I stare at him. I'm pretty sure that if you were to look up 'incredulous' in the dictionary, my face would be there.

David remains undeterred. "Well?"

My phone buzzes again in my pocket. I grimace. "Fine. Fine, okay, whatever."

I yank it out—I am not breathing—and glance at the notifications immediately available on my lock screen. Mostly Snaps from Sirina and our other friends, group chat notifs, an alert that my pop quiz grade was posted (oh god). I start swiping my way through the pile of useless banners.

"See? It—" I start, but then stop when I swipe one last notification and see the one buried beneath it.

The number. It responded.

      Unknown Number: Hi! Oh my gosh you texted me back, how are you?

"Um," I say, because no thoughts, head empty.

"Did he say something?" David looks like he's trying his best not to launch himself across the table and snatch the phone up. He's practically vibrating. "Holy fuckballs, Nick, did he say something?"

"He just asked how I'm doing," I say slowly. Then, almost hesitantly, I swipe it away. See no evil, tolerate no bullshit.

"Well, tell the man!"

I cast a squinty glare his way. Like, does he not know I just swiped? C'mon. "David."

"Nick!" Per usual, oblivious to a fucking fault. Does he think the world revolves around him, or does he get off on acting like it does? Either way, annoying. "What's the harm?"

I bite the inside of my lip. "David, I don't think this is a good idea—"

"Nick." He leans back, crossing his arms across his sequined chest. The contrast of his hairy, toned forearms against the Judy Garland red doesn't seem real to me. Honestly, nothing about this interaction is real. "Why is it a bad idea?"

Because it could be fake. Because none of this is real. Because things like this don't happen. Not here. Not to people like me. Because I'm not like you, David.

I go to take a long, hard sip of my hot chocolate and wince right away. Fuck. Fuck. Too hot. Way too hot. My tongue feels like molten lava, but I force myself to swallow it and try my best to look like I haven't just eviscerated every single one of my taste buds.

My gaze is focused on the post office across the street, at the dead trees planted between the salt-covered sidewalk and slush-filled street. I don't have to answer him. I know that. I do. I might be stupid, but I'm not that stupid. I owe David nothing. We're not friends. We're barely even buddies. We're more like forced proximity almost-but-hardly acquaintances.

"Nick? Are you okay?"

I glance back at him, and I hate how concerned he looks. Like, legitimately concerned. It's not his fault we aren't friends, I suppose. We just aren't. Simple as that.

I'm being annoying again. I should stop that.

"Nick?"

"Sorry." And I am, in a way. I hate how pushy David is. But I think he's just kind of an idiot. Not exactly a 'hateable' offense. Just an incredibly annoying one. "I'm fine. I just don't see this going anywhere. It's fine."

"Sirina said you'd probably think that." He rests his chin on the heel of his hand. "She also said that you'd probably like for it to be a thing that goes somewhere, but you'd rather not put yourself in a risky position and get hurt."

My lips part. No words come out. Like, what the fuck.

I am going to murder her, I swear to god.

"Okay, well." My voice takes on a harsher, blunter quality, and I find myself leaning forward in my chair. I don't know what I'm trying to do here. Intimidate him? Tell him off? Make him regret thinking he knows anything about me when he so does not? "Is that any of your business?"

David blinks. His eyes are wide, and fuck, I know he's never seen me like this before. Honestly, me neither. I don't love this feeling—my throat constricting, my heart pounding, my fists furling—but what else am I supposed to do?

However, despite his surprise, he's surprisingly calm. "You're right. It's not any of my business."

"Uh, yeah." I lean back in my chair. "It's not."

"You don't have to take my help, Nick," he says. "I'm just offering it to you, in case you're interested. I can't imagine all of what you've dealt with since coming out. Hardin is kind of a shit-hole. And like, I really hope I've never contributed to any of that shit-holeishness, but I'm sure I haven't done anything to make it better. And I think I'd want someone to do that for me. So ... yeah. You don't have to accept my help. But the offer is there, if you want it."

It's like the world comes to a complete stop.

I stare at him. I don't know what else I'm supposed to do.

I don't know what to say.

David takes an uncomfortably long sip of his hot chocolate while some vaguely familiar jazz classic plays softly in the speakers above us. I scratch the back of my neck, because I didn't see this coming. How do you respond to that?

"Thank you," I say. It's quiet. It's soft. It's sincere.

His Adam's apple bobs as he finishes with his hot chocolate. I have no idea how he managed to chug it, when mine is still scaldingly hot. I legitimately think I burnt off every single one of my tastebuds, holy shit.

"Are you okay?" he asks. He's not as stupidly smiley as he usually is. This feels more sincere. And I don't really know how to deal with that.

I flick the lid of my hot chocolate and manage a slight smile back. "Yeah. I'm–I'm sorry."

"Don't be." David sighs. "I think I'm really pushy, and I'm pretty sure that's not your vibe, so yeah. I'm sorry."

Not sure what to say in response to this either, really, because he's right. He's a lot too pushy for my taste, but the fact that he can see that does make me feel like an asshole. Just a smidge. "It's okay. I'm not the best at talking to people, so ... yeah. It's okay. Don't be sorry."

I can't believe I'm telling David Marquez not to be sorry when he apologizes for being in my face. Who am I?

Just like that, his smile is back. "Cool."

"Yeah." I take a deep breath, glancing a final time across the street to the post office before turning my gaze back to David. David, and his stupid smile. David, and his ridiculous dress. David, and his silly, goofy, pushy personality.

I sigh, then push my phone across the table to him. The secret admirer's text stares up at both of us. I try to make eye contact with him, but he's focused on the screen, staring in disbelief. So I just say it.

"What do I say?"

A/N - GUYS I'M POSTING THIS IN MILAN ITALY also tho i feel kinda sick like i might faint??? so i went down to a "secret garden" part of my hostel and i'm thinking that if i faint then so be it, at least there are people around ANYWAYS BYEEEE

wait also sidenote remember how i was sick okay the lady on my flight from minneapolis to newark told me that her friend's son DIED of what i had. just last month. my infection was severe for over five months. his went septic after a week of appearing "severe." y'all the way i am literally so lucky to be here??????? i'm not sure i can really comprehend it. condolences to that poor guy's friends and family. SINUS INFECTIONS ARE SERIOUS!!! IF YOU GET THEM A LOT PLEASE GET THEM CHECKED OUT!!! THANK YOUI!!!!!!!

okay bye fr now