“That’s alright,” Shane said. “That’s why it lasts an entire semester. It’s normal to be very aware of being observed at the start. As time goes by, your natural rhythm will return.”
“What? You think I’m faking?” I asked, lifting a clean T-shirt.
Shane shot me a secretive smile. Dimples emerged on each side of his face. Odd how I hadn’t noticed them before. “I think you’re giving too much attention, and that’s normal.”
“Just being myself,” I said. He didn’t say anything to that. His focus returned, and he scribbled into the blue notebook, then shut it closed before I could peek inside. The way he so easily cut me out at will pushed a button I didn’t know existed. “If you really want to shadow me, let’s have a beer,” I said.
“Is a beer something you normally have right after a workout?” he asked, his voice cool and analytical.
Fuck, I thought. “No. I’ll have chicken, rice, and broccoli first and grab a beer in a few hours.”
“Is that often your lunch?” Shane asked.
I shrugged. “It’s what I have in the fridge.”
He nodded.
“So? A drink after? I’ll get you something pink if you want. Just the two of us.”
Shane hesitated. “I’m not sure that’s appropriate.”
“I’m sure a scientist would know how to delineate personal and professional matters,” I said. “Besides, you can bring a notebook if you have to.”
“Alright,” Shane said.
Then I suspected that my insistence on having a drink was about to make its way into his notes. There was no winning here.
Shane waitedfor me in front of the library. I’d offered him a meal when I was cooking already, but he had already eaten. His backpack appeared much heavier after the intermission, so I had a good idea of where he had spent the last hour and a half.
“How many times a day do you change your clothes?” Shane asked as I joined him at the bottom of the stairs before the library.
“You mean this old thing?” I asked. I looked very good in a tailored shirt that hugged my waist and emphasized my chest and shoulders. Slim-fit pants were a winner, too, especially when the shirt was quarter-tucked. “I just threw it on.”
“Immeasurable, then?” Shane offered and fell in step with me, crossing the street to Lumière.
I shot him a look of disbelief. “He jokes.”
Shane chuckled to himself and quickly looked down as if the attention was more than he could handle. Maybe it was. It only made me want to attend to him more.
“My wingmen are both taken,” I grumbled. “Aren’t people in relationships the most boring ever?”
Shane shrugged. “Dunno.”
“Aren’t your friends getting all cozy in their relationships?” I asked.
Shane glanced at me apprehensively. “I don’t have that many friends. Not here, at least.” When he saw me frown in confusion, he hurried to explain. “I’m focused on my studies. That doesn’t leave you with a lot of time to make friends.”
“Everyone should have friends,” I said. I knew I sounded like a smart-ass, and I didn’t want to be condescending, but Christ Almighty, how did he survive all these years without a pack? I never would have pulled through on my own. The pressure of each new academic year, of hockey, of team responsibilities, and so much more was unbearable without people who were in the same boat as you. “Boyfriends?” I asked.
Shane looked at me with horror.
I cringed. “Or girlfriends. You know?” That was a lame attempt to save myself.
But Shane shook his head. “No, you guessed it. I’m gay, but…” He looked at Lumière longingly. “Aren’t we going inside?”
I measured him for a heartbeat or two. No friends, no boyfriends, just his studies. “You have friends now,” I said softly. “Me and my guys.”
Shane looked into my eyes with something cold and detached. “That’s a nice thing to say, Patrick, but I don’t know you. Any of you. And you, well, can’t be my friend. I’m your shadow, remember?”
