“There you are!” Benny says as I hoist myself out of the river. “I literally thought you died, and there was one brief second where I was all, ‘Maybe they’ll give me straight As if my roommate’s body washes ashore’ before I snapped out of it, and ohmygod who is that snack?” His voice dips into something sultry.
Jack jumps out of the water and shakes like a dog. He’s standing next to me, and I quietly compare our bodies. His muscular, athletic, hairless. Mine hearty, thick, hairy. I quickly squeeze my wet hog-bod into a dry T-shirt, trying desperately to hide my lumpy form.
“Jack,” he says. “Jack the Snack. Nice to meet you. Benny, right?”
Benny’s mouth goes slack. “I am Benny. Gorga. Beh-neeeeeen-yo. Eggs Benny.”
Jack leans in. “Is he okay?”
I shrug. “Fuck if I know.”
Benny’s eyes snap back. “We’re all going to the dining hall if you wanna. Um, Rhett, who you know, Jack, because he’s your roommate—” Beads of sweat dot his brow. “He’s going, too. He was actually looking for you.”
“Which dining hall?” Jack asks.
“Campus Center,” Benny answers, relieved to get an easy question.
“Is Leila going?” I ask hesitantly.
Benny nods, a little deer-in-the-headlights.
“I think I’d actually like to check out the Garden Dining Hall,” Jack says, reading the look on my face. “You down, Chase?” When I nod, Jack says, “Tell them to go on without us. Unless you wanna join, Eggs Benny?”
I snicker.
Benny’s gaze darts between Jack and me, then he grabs me and pulls me aside. “You want me to leave you alone with this slender slice of Gus Kenworthy, right? I just wanna make sure I’m not abandoning you in a time of need or something. Or like, forcing you to dine with the enemy.”
“It’s cool,” I say, wanting to be alone with Jack. To keep him to myself. Away from Leila. “Go with Rhett. Just be careful not to let Leila lure you in. She’s known to attract all types to her woods, and they never come out alive.”
“Brutal. Text me after, and we’ll meet up,” Benny says. “’Bye, Jack the Snack!”
Once Benny’s out of earshot, Jack says, “Hope that wasn’t presumptuous.”
“Presumptuous,” I repeat. “Another one of those words.”
His eyes actually sparkle. I cannot even make this up.
“And no, not presumptuous.” I take my time with the word. “At all. I needed an out.”
“From that not-friend, right?” he asks intuitively, drying himself off with his shirt. He flings it over his shoulder and slips his feet sockless into his shoes. “When Rhett introduced me to her earlier, I felt this … air of pretension. You deserve better than that.”
How does Jack know what I deserve? He doesn’t even know me, yet he sounds sincere. Maybe it’s a line. If it is, it’s working. I am so hashtag-basic right now, but swoon.
“Big mood. Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“No worries,” he says so casually and so straight-boy-esque that all my engagement-wedding-2.5-children visions vanish and are replaced by a vision of me forced to stand next to him as he marries a nondescript girl.