Today I’m reracking my own spiraling thoughts.
Luca wanders over, tosses a towel across my shoulder, and gives me a look like I’m the human equivalent of a wet sock. “Okay, seriously, bro. You’re working out like someone took a massive dump on your birthday cake.”
Nice metaphor. “I’m fine.”
“That’s what people say when they’re not fine.” He grabs a kettle bell and begins swinging it. “You’ve got sad energy. Like Eeyore, but jacked.”
“I am at peak health.”
Luca eyes me as he sets the kettle bell on the floor. “You know what you need?”
Here we go again…
“No,” I say flatly. “But I have a feeling I’m about to find out.”
“You need to get laid. Like—urgently. For the sake of everyone around you.”
“I have gotten laid.” He knows this. “I’m literally pressing three hundred pounds, climb down off my nuts.”
“You haven’t been in a good mood sinceshemoved out.”
My jaw tics.
And there it is;the thing he’s been dying to say.
“Luca,” I warn.
He holds up both hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I get it. She was cool. Cute. But it’s been weeks. She moved out and ghosted you. You need tomove on.”
He softens his tone slightly, but not by much. Luca Babineaux has never been one to pull punches. “I’m not saying jump into a rebound. But you’ve got to stop orbiting this girl. She’s gone, bruh. Whatever it was between you—didn’t stick.”
I feel the need to defend my mood swings by saying, “Just because I haven’t heard from her in three days doesn’t mean she ghosted me, asshole.”
Luca snorts. “Maybe, maybe not. Not to be the bearer of bad news, but she’s been sick. According to Nova she’s been barfing her guts out and sleeping around the clock.”
I stare at him.
“You fucker. You knew this and still gave me the whole ‘she’s gone, bruh’ speech?”
“Yeah, cause you’re fucking depressing. I was trying to get you to snap out of it, not load you with more guilt. Jeez, cut me some slack.” He pauses. “Bruh.”
I almost laugh at him, because he’s being funny.
Almost.
Instead, I mutter, “Why didn’t she tell me she was sick?”
Luca gives me a look. “Uh, probably because you’re not herboyfriend?”
He doesn’t have to say it in that tone. Dick.
Luca shrugs. Like the label ‘boyfriend’ draws a line in the sand between who gets informed and who doesn’t.
He rolls his eyes when I have nothing more to say. “She used to live with you and steal your hoodies. Things change, man. Doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to keep chatting—just means she’s been barfing and a limited social battery—and you’re not the first line of contact.”
He’s making way too much sense of the situation it’s starting to get annoying.
“Anyway!” he chirps cheerfully as he switches gears. “Are you skating tomorrow? I know coach bumped practice back, but I heard he’s bringing in a scout.”
