Page 34 of Studious
I do as I’m told, and when we sit down to dinner, I ask, “What kind of lessons do you think I should plan, besides dressing him up?”
“Does he have problems talking with people?”
“Not that I know of. I find him easy to talk to. He doesn’t seem nervous around me.”
“Well, you’re not that intimidating.”
“Hey!”
She tilts her head. “Maybe have him practice talking with a stranger. Basic stuff. Does he even know what he wants? Half the process is knowing what you want and don’t want, so you can recognize it when you come across it.”
“You’re talking about small, practice things, aren’t you?” Alden’s not going to go straight to blowjobs—and I don’t want to be discussing sex with my mom, anyway. But she has some good ideas.
I pull out my phone and start taking notes.
* * *
I’m back at home when my phone buzzes later that evening. For a moment, my heart does this weird leap, but then I realize it’s not Alden, but Charlie.
Charlie: Coming out?
Crap. I’d forgotten. And it’s not like me to forget. I guess I just am not into it tonight.
Danny: Dunno.
Charlie: Who are you and what have you done with Daniel Villaseñor?
Danny: I’m fine, just a little tired.
Charlie: How old are you now?
Danny: Fuck off. Younger than you.
Charlie: Don’t make me go all alooooone
Danny: How can you sound so whiny over text?
Charlie: Superpower?
Danny: For real, I’m not feeling it. Maybe next time?
Charlie: Of course.
Apart from last night, when I was dealing with a passed-out Alden, I can’t remember a time I’ve turned Charlie down, but there’s a first time for everything. Besides, he doesn’t need a wingman. He does all right on his own.
* * *
When I get to work Monday morning, I try not to be obvious that I’m keeping an eye out for Alden, even though I am. I’m about to go down to see him when I hear my name. Noah is striding toward me, looking distressed.
I furrow my brow. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Can I talk with you?”
“Sure,” I say slowly, and go back into my office. He follows me in and shuts the door behind him. “Am I in trouble?” I ask.
“What?” he says distractedly. “No, of course not.”
The tension in my chest eases. “Okay, good.”
