“I guess that’s true. She’s being open these days. That’s for sure. We went to the Italian place over on High Street...”
Cree continues to talk about date night, but I can’t focus on his words. I look back to the stairs, wondering if that woman will come back in or if she really left for the night. My mind wanders back to my previous conversation, trying to remember every word she said to me.
“Ivan? Dude, are you even listening?”
“Sorry, bro. I’m a little distracted, I guess.”
“Why are you so distracted?”
Strangely enough, I’m hesitant to tell Cree about my encounter. Maybe if I had made a decision one way or another, it would be easier, but as it is, I don’t know what to say. Then again, Cree is one of my closest friends, and he’s usually pretty good with advice.
“I just...have something on my mind.”
“What?” He cocks his head to the side, and I’m sure he’s picking up on my uncharacteristic hesitation.
“Promise you aren’t going to laugh your ass off?” I ask.
“No.” Cree goes ahead and laughs. “Just you asking me that question makes me want to create a meme for it.”
I laugh, appreciating his honesty. Maybe I should consider the whole idea as laughable and forget it.
“What is it, Ivan?” Cree says. He stops laughing and presses me for an answer.
I inhale deeply, knowing it’s best to just put it all out there but needing to find the right starting point.
“Do you know that chick who works for the fire department?” I ask. “Long legs, brown hair, big tits, great ass...”
“Lynn? The EMT?”
“Yeah, that’s her.” Good. At least he knows who she is.
“She was there when Kas and I were trapped in the library,” Cree says. “She kind of covered for the marks on Kas’s arms and such. She knew they were from rope but didn’t put them down on Kas’s chart so we didn’t get a bunch of questions about it. What about her?”
“She’s older, ya know?”
“Well, yeah,” Cree says. “I mean, she’s not a college student, and she’s older than we are. What about it?”
“But she’s still hot, right?”
“Sure, I guess so.” Cree rolls his eyes. “You really want me to give you my approval on something?”
“I know. You don’t give a shit about looks.” I can feel his judgment in his stare. “I’m shallow. Deal with it.”
“Maybe she’s not my type,” he says, “but she fits what you go for. I think she’s only a couple of years older than us.”
“She’s thirty-one.”
“Is she? I guess I never asked.”
“But older chicks...that’s still hot in and of itself, isn’t it?”
“I’m not sure thirty-one is really considered ‘older,’” Cree says. “Hot is whatever you want hot to be, Ivan—personal preferences and all. Let’s just go with ‘She’s hot,’ and you can move on to what’s bothering you.”
“I wouldn’t say it was bothering me...I’m just not sure what to do about it.”
“About what?” Cree is starting to lose his patience.
“She, uh, she propositioned me.”