Page 9 of Psync
“Thanks,” he said once he’d caught up to his friends. “It’s not that I don’t like people, I just don’t deal well with touching.”
Alice said, “Is this all the time? Or is it first week stress?” Her face showed nothing but mild curiosity.
“The stress makes it worse, but . . .” He really didn’t want to finish. Exposing his stupid issues to the first nice people he’d met wasn’t his favorite idea, but they were friends now. Didn’t that mean they had a right to know? “On a regular basis I feel that way all the time, but it’s manageable. It’s just ramped up right now.”
“Any touch? Or just hugging?” Nate’s face was calm. Neutral. Giving Eli no clue how the guy was feeling.
“I can touch other people, but, well, it feels wrong. Like, there’s something under my skin that activates and says,Intruder Alert! Man your battle stations!If I know someone very well, I barely notice, but if I don’t know the person, it’s pretty unpleasant.”
Nate nodded. “Good to know. I’m allergic to shrimp, like deathly. So, if you see me about to eat some, you should stop me.” He mimed smacking something imaginary out of his hand. “And Alice doesn’t talk to her dad. Ever. So, if a guy comes up to you claiming to be her dad, call me. I’ll take care of it.”
Alice’s sunshine smile dimmed, but she gave Eli a thumbs up. “Everyone’s got quirks. Our job is to find friends to help us deal with them. Lucky for you, we happen to have an opening in our group.” Her smile turned up to full power leaving Eli a little dazzled.
“That’s . . .” Eli choked on his words, and he blinked his stinging eyes rapidly.
Alice continued to smile, and Nate waved, encouraging him to come up the stairs to his dorm.
“I guess I could fit you two into my schedule,” he managed to say and summoned up a watery smile.
“Air hug!” Alice mimed wrapping her arms around Eli, and he laughed.
“If the drama is over, I am literally dying of starvation here. Please, just follow me before I keel over.”
“Fine, you emotionally stunted freak.” Alice sailed up the stairs and beat Nate through the front door, leaving Eli to catch up.
Once ensconced in Nate’s messy room, Eli found himself surrounded by a mountain of food, most of which he’d never seen. He couldn’t wait to try everything.
“This is all courtesy of my abuelita. She’s convinced I am going to starve to death and has no idea just how tiny my fridge is here. So, if you like something, take it home with you. Seriously, you’d be doing me a favor.” Nate shoved a Tupperware container into Eli’s hands. It held something that looked a bit like vanilla pudding with caramel on top.
Eli tore the top off and accepted the spoon Nate poked in his direction. He dug in and it tasted . . . Damn. He wrapped himself around the container and narrowed his eyes at the room. “I hope neither of you were planning on having any of this.”
The room exploded with laughter.
“Oh yes, we’re definitely keeping this one.” Alice wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. “Don’t worry, Eli. I’ve had Abuelita’s flan many times. That one is all yours.”
Eli nodded and said, through a mouthful of heaven, “Is she single?”
It might have been Eli’s imagination, but there seem to be a pause in the room before Nate said, “Sorry, man. My abuelo could crush you without even noticing. He’s even crazier about her cooking.”
“Ah well . . .”
“Don’t worry, Eli. If you’re on the hunt, we’ll find someone for you. What’s your type?”
Eli was, in fact, not on the hunt—for grandmothers, or anyone, but he played along.
“Well, a good cook is a definite must.” Eli searched through the containers until he found tamales. Jackpot. “Nice is also a plus.”
“What about . . . physical features?” Alice asked nonchalantly. Focusing completely on the plate of sausages Nate had just shoved at her.
“I don’t really have a physical type, to be honest. I haven’t really dated much.” Or at all. Ever. And if he was very lucky, he would extend that into the rest of forever.
“But what about—”
“Oh, quit beating around the bush, Alice. Eli, she wants to know if you’re a member of the Alphabet Mafia.” Nate waved a forkful of fried rice at Alice. “She wants someone to dye their hair pink with her, and she figures if you’re gay or bi, she’s got a shot. I’m sure as hell not doing it.”
It was one of the most unique ways he’d been asked that question, that was for certain. And definitely one of the more polite.
“But you don’t have to answer her just because her nosy ass is too cheap to go to a salon.”
