“Well…” I start, but Jana’s phone starts ringing again.
“Just a sec,” Jana says and answers the call. “Hey, did you find it? Great. Just stay on Fairfax until you get to Twelfth Street and then take a left. We’re in the Green Village Apartments. We’ll be outside. Okay, bye.” Jana hangs up the phone and turns back to me. “That was mom. She’s about ten minutes out.”
Suddenly, I don’t feel so guilty anymore.
“Yeah, I’m out,” I tell Jana and start for the door, “See ya later.”
It’s delaying the inevitable. I know that. Still, given what the inevitable is, I’m pretty happy putting it off for a while.
“You know he sleeps around, right?” Jana asks and I stop.
“What?” I ask. “Did he cheat on you?”
“No,” Jana says. “Well, we weren’t really a couple. We were kind of sex acquaintances.”
“Sex acquaintances?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says. “When we first met, we had sex. I gave him my number, he gave me his. Things were just so busy for me back then. We really only got together when one of us needed a booty call. Then I met someone else, and then he met someone else. If you want to go see him, I’m not going to be that friend, but I thought you should know.”
“So what you’re saying is that the two of you started something, but you were busy a lot so you never made it out of the bedroom?” I ask. “That’s not really sex acquaintances as much as it is being unavailable for anything more.”
“He did that with other people, too,” Jana says. “I mellowed out a ton, but from what Carli told me, he’s still quite a little man-whore.”
I don’t ask if that means Mason and Carli are a thing. Carli’s the biggest gossip I’ve ever met and, more likely than not, she’s never actually met Mason. I’m not much for gossip or the people who do it, but Carli does have an outstanding track record for spreading rumors that end up being true. I’ll give her that much.
Maybe I should call Mason back and cancel. I’m really not looking to go out with someone who’s just going to look at me like a piece of meat, even if it is just to get out of seeing Jana’s mom a couple extra hours.
“Look,” Jana says, “mom’s going to be here in like three minutes. Why don’t you—where are you going?”
I don’t answer.
I know that Rhododendron—or whatever flower Jana’s mom has repurposed as her new moniker for the moment—is going to be here when I get home, but if I stay out a while, there’s always a chance that she’ll be taking a weed nap by the time I’m back.
Maybe Mason’s a dirt bag, maybe he’s not. Either way, I’m getting out of here before Jana’s mom tries to pin me down and slather me with hemp oil. Again.
* * *
“Well, that’s a shame,” Mason says, sipping his soda in a weak attempt to hide his smile.
“It’s not that I have a problem with hippies or anything,” I tell him. “I just subscribe to the idea of personal space.”
“Yeah, that seems totally reasonable,” he says.
“So, my roommate says you’re some kind of man-whore or something,” I say and take a bite of my salad.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Mason answers calmly.
“What would you say?” I ask.
“I’d say that I’ve had my fair share of relationships that didn’t work out, but you know. I’m still optimistic. These things take time,” he says.
“Well, I think I may have given you the wrong impression regarding my motives,” I tell him.
“What?” he asks with a smirk. “We met, we hit it off. I’m incredibly attractive, although I do think it’s pretty weird you thought so, too, given my appearance at the time, but—”
“Does that work?” I ask, sipping my coffee.
“What’s that?” he asks.
“The whole overconfident thing,” I tell him. “I was flirting with you before because I saw how much it bothered Jana when she saw you again, and sometimes that particular friend of mine just needs to be taken down a peg or two, but I’m not looking for some desperate slap and tickle with a juvenile walking phallus.”
“You’re kind of mean, you know that?” he asks, but he’s still smiling.
“You’re used to rejection, aren’t you?” I return.
“Very,” he says. “If I’m not being rejected in a public and humiliating way at least once a day, I feel like I’m not trying hard enough.”
“So it’s all about the sex for you then, huh?” I ask. I don’t know if he’s figured out that I’m not interested, but either way, toying with him is just too delicious.
“Not really,” he says. “I mean, I do enjoy me some—what’d you call it?—slap and tickle, as much as anyone, but that’s not what it’s all about for me.”
“Oh, and what’s it all about?” I ask. This should be entertaining.
“I don’t know,” he says. “A lot of people are worried about who they’re going to get to spend the night with them. I always thought mornings were more romantic.”
“Oh really?” I ask, not hiding my amusement.
“Really,” he says. “I think it’s much more a statement when someone wakes up and wants to spend their day with you than when someone just wants to spend the night, you know?”
“Wow,” I say. “So, did that punch to the face knock something loose or are you actually telling me you consider yourself a romantic?”
“I don’t see why I can’t be a romantic just because I happen to spend a good portion of my free time training to beat the crap out of people,” he says. “We all have hobbies.”
“Yeah, but your hobby tends to have a pretty big downside,” I tell him.
“Nothing’s more dangerous than always running away from things that scare you,” he says.
“Okay, I get that you’re trying to be all ‘charming, pithy guy’ right now and everything, and I will say, up until now you’ve been doing a pretty good job,” I start.
“But?” he asks.
“But this isn’t an infomercial,” I tell him. “You know why you never had a shot with me?”
“Why’s that?” he asks and nothing seems capable of getting that smile to stop returning to his face.
“Because you think it’s appropriate being bandaged up by the stranger-roommate of one of your ex chew toys,” I tell him.
“Ah, I’m a dog now,” he says.
I answer, “Just in the whole puppy-isn’t-housebroken-and-chews-holes-in-all-my-underwear—”
“Hot,” he interrupts.
“You’re too sarcastic for me,” I tell him. “That and I’m not unconvinced you’re a man-whore, and I don’t see that being a good move for me.”
“Well, that’s a shame,” he says and claps his hands together. “Now, do you think we’re ever going to get a refill on these breadsticks? We’ve been waiting ten minutes for that crap.”