“The more you practice, the easier it gets. But you can’t skip any steps. Look at it as though you’re a private investigator gathering information to crack a cold case file,” Rory suggested. “Each clue gets you closer to solving a murder.”
“Bad analogy. Murder mysteries make me nervous.”
He cocked his head thoughtfully. “So math, murder, and pretty girls who stare too long make you jumpy. Anything else?”
I glanced around the sparsely populated coffee shop and furrowed my brow. “Who’s staring at me?”
“The high-school girls and the woman who was standing in front of you in line. They’ve all left now. They gave up when they realized you only had eyes for me,” he teased.
“Hmph. Yeah, right. I doubt they thought we were a couple,” I commented, shaking the leftover ice in my cup.
“Why not? Statistically speaking, there’s a chance that’s exactly what they thought.” Rory waggled his thick brows comically.
“Very clever. But I bet the average gay couple doesn’t hang out at a Starbucks poring over a textbook.” I narrowed my eyes. “Why are you looking at me funny?”
“I’m trying to figure you out. Would you care if they thought we were boyfriends or a Grindr hookup?”
“Of course not,” I lied, stuffing my book into my backpack. “But I don’t think we look like boyfriends or a Grindr hookup.”
“You’re awfully concerned with the way things look, aren’t you?”
I sputtered indignantly. “No, I’m not.”
“Relax. I’m just giving you a hard time,” he said with a laugh. “But I will say this…if we were a Grindr hookup, we’d probably give ourselves away with the ‘We just did it’ look.”
“Did what?”
“It.” He made a lewd “finger in hole” gesture and then laughed at my perturbed expression.
“Right,” I huffed indignantly and glanced away, hoping to hide the certain blush on my cheeks. My dick twitched at the very idea of doing “it.” I had to get us back on track quickly, or I’d be doomed. I patted the textbook in my backpack and said, “Where? In the bathroom?”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah.”
I was more fascinated than flustered now, which made no sense. His cocky delivery alone should have set me off and tripped every one of my personal alarm bells. Joking about gay sex with my new tutor was unwise. Sure, it was my favorite topic, but that info was top secret. If I were smart, I’d change the subject. Fast.
“What makes you think I’d have sex with you in a public restroom?” Nope. Not so smart after all.
“ ’Cause that’s how hookup apps work. They’re basically dating apps in reverse. Only simpler. Sex first, then coffee. Dating sites are hell, if you ask me. First you match up and agree to meet. Then you cross your fingers and hope to fuck his online photo isn’t a decade old and that when he said he liked cats, he wasn’t a creepy cat guy.”
I snorted a laugh. “What’s a creepy cat guy?”
“Oh, man.” Rory shook his head in mock consternation. “You know the type. He owns ten or more cats and insists on showing you the YouTube videos he’s made for each one on his phone. And when he tells you their names, you notice that each one has a special voice. Carol, Mike, Marsha, Greg…”
I threw my head back and guffawed. “Wait a sec. They’re named after The Brady Bunch?”
“Yeah, well done,” he commented with a laugh. “A lot of people our age don’t know classic sitcoms.”
“My parents were strict about TV viewing, but the Bradys made the cut.”
“Hmm. Well, back to the crazy cat guy.”
“I thought he was a creepy cat guy,” I intercepted.
Rory shot a mock scowl at me but inclined his head. “Yeah, whatever. This guy names his cats on a theme. TV shows, rock bands, favorite songs…”
“Seems kind of harmless. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing…but it’s hard to have a conversation with that guy,” Rory explained.
“Why? Cats are cool. And coffee dates aren’t a big deal. I don’t see the problem.”
“You’re being difficult on purpose,” he huffed. “I didn’t say cats aren’t cool. I happen to have a very cool cat. But she has a normal cat name, and I don’t make weird noises when I say her name.”
I leaned on my elbows, aware that my smile had taken over my face. I should have checked the time and thought about getting back to campus for my second practice, but I didn’t want to go anywhere. This was surprisingly…fun. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d talked to anyone about something other than football or my “future.” Okay, Max was easy company too, but this was different somehow. Rory was…unexpectedly charming. For a tutor. And now that he’d hinted at all these interesting things that had nothing to do with statistics, I wanted to know more. Much more.
“What’s your cat’s name?”
“Buttons,” he replied, looking out the window.