Wash Me Away by Wendy Owens

have some movie marathons, Addison Buckley. Come on . . . Yoda?”
    I shake my head, still clueless.
    Leo smacks his forehead. “ Star Wars? ”
    “Oh, yeah,” I act like the movie is more familiar than it is.
    “That’s a crime against humanity.”
    “If you say so,” I say.
    “I do. I say so very much.” He laughs softly before asking, “Are you headed to lunch?”
    I smooth a hand over my stomach that’s still growling viciously. “I could eat,” I answer casually.
    “Cool.” He starts walking in the direction of the food court. There’s still awkwardness between us. The length of silence runs longer. The way he avoids looking directly at me for any extended period of time. I wish I could figure out what he’s thinking.
    Why does he make me so nervous and somehow so comfortable in my skin at the same time?
    “So . . . how are things going with your boyfriend?”
    His question actually causes me to stop, taking a step back before rushing to catch up with him. “What are you talking about?
    He laughs. “You know, your date from the party.”
    “Matt?” I nearly choke on my tongue as I gasp.
    “Yeah, sorry. I guess it was hard to see his face with him draped across you.”
    “Are you jealous?” I tease.
    “What? No! Hey, it’s your business if you want to hang out with the roofie kings, go right ahead.”
    “The what?”
    “They’re dicks, and I just thought you would have better taste,” Leo says.
    “They aren’t that bad,” I defend, knowing in fact they are and that I have no intention of ever willingly being in the same room with either of them again. Something in me has to see where this is going.
    “If you say so.” He shrugs dismissively. “But really? That’s your type of guy?”
    “Why all the interest in my type?” Am I flirting with him? I’ve never actually done it so I’m not quite sure what it looks like. It feels inappropriate, yet I keep going.
    “Maybe I have a friend who would be a better fit than the bottom feeders you seem to be hooking up with,” he offers, still avoiding eye contact with me as we enter through the oversized metal door.
    “I can find my own dates, thank you very much,” I inform him.
    “Yeah, I’ve seen what you find.”
    “Julia actually set that up, know-it-all.”
    “Ahh,” he groans with a smirk. “And suddenly it all became a little clearer.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “Julia will date anything with a pulse.” I feel the sudden need to defend my friend, but I’m unsure how to since from what I’ve seen so far his statement may be truth.
    “So not cool.” I eye him.
    He lifts a hand defensively. “Hey, you asked. Plus, she’s my friend too.”
    I suck on my top lip to prevent myself from laughing.
    “Well, what is your type?” he questions.
    “Type of what?” I ask, though I know exactly what he’s asking. Only problem is, I’ve never thought about it.
    “Really?” He sighs. “Fine, don’t tell me then. It’s not like I care.”
    “Don’t get all mad, Grumpy Leo.” I nudge him with my shoulder.
    “Fair enough.”
    “Honestly?” I start, thinking about the question. “I guess someone who is nice . . . and makes me laugh.”
    He shakes his head, looking at the ground, his face long.
    “Is there something wrong with that?” I inquire.
    He sucks in a breath, his chest puffs out, then he releases it slowly. His eyebrows lift as he looks at me. I recognize the expression. I’ve seen it a lot in my short life. Pity. “I was afraid of this,” he says at last.
    “Of what?” I tighten my hands into tiny balls. I hate when people pity me.
    He’s nodding. “I should have seen this coming.”
    “What coming? What are you talking about?” I’m desperate to understand.
    He blows out another long breath of air. “You’ve fallen for me . . .” My eyes widen. “I mean, I know it’s hard to not want to jump on top of something so damn sexy as all this,” he continues, motioning up and down his