There’s a beat as we both sip our drinks, smiling broadly at each other. My skin is buzzing with electricity.
“What else can you tell about me, Party Girl? I like this game.”
“Well, you’ve got an extraordinarily beautiful ass. Perhaps the most beautiful ass I’ve ever seen.”
“Thank you. Back at you. Especially when it’s stomping furiously down a hallway in nothing but a G-string.”
“Oh, you liked that, did you?”
“I liked that a lot.”
“I could tell.” I wink. “Your wet undies were completely see-through, you may recall.”
He licks his lips. “You wanted me so bad,” he says, “you were losing your fucking mind—not to mention dripping down your legs.”
I smirk, but I don’t deny it.
“So tell me more, PG. More, more, more.”
“Well...” I trail off. “Besides the fact that you have a beautiful ass?”
“Besides that. Something deep and profound.”
“Okay. Well . . .” I twist my mouth. “You seem to be ... kind of... I don’t know the word. I took Philosophy 101, but I forget it all.Fatalistic?”
“I think that’s when someone believes their fate is, like, written in the stars—outside their control. Is that what you mean?”
“No. That’s not it. Well, maybe, sort of.”
“Because Iamfatalistic to some degree. I think some things are beyond our control—like a brick wall you’re hurtling toward whether you like it or not. Nothing you can do about it.”
“Well, jeez. That’s kind of a bummer.”
“Not necessarily. Some brick walls feel fucking awesome when you crash into them.” His eyes flicker. “Some brick walls are worth the pain.”
I blush.
“What about you—do you believe in fate?”
I shake my head. “No. I believe in kicking ass.”
He smirks. “So, then, what did you mean to say?”
“What is it when someone thinks nothing matters? That everything is kind of pointless in the end?”
“I think that’s nihilism. I’d have to ask Jonas, though. But, of course, I’d never do that because then he’d talk my ear off about fucking philosophy for an hour and then I’d have to kill myself, which would be a major bummer.”
“Oh. Well, I wouldn’t have been able to come up with the word ‘nihilism’ if my life depended on it. I must have meant something else. I dunno.”
“Is that what you think of me? That I don’t think anything matters?”
“No. Of course not. I know things matter to you.”
He shifts his position on the bed. “Because I definitely think some things matter. A man’s word. Friends. A man’s family—whatever’s left of it, anyway.” A shadow briefly crosses his face. “It’s just that sofewthings really matter, there’s no sense getting too worked up about much. Getting a stupid ass-tattoo? Who gives a shit, you know? Like I say, in the end we’re all gonna die anyway, might as well just enjoy the ride and not sweat the small stuff.”
“So maybe your YOLO tattoo isn’t really a reminder to you not to get too cocky or comfortable, after all,” I say tentatively. “Maybe, it’s more something to help you remember the few things that actually matter to you.”
There’s a long beat.
