Chrysalis

I should have thought, just thought, just for a second … but I think my brain is allergic to thinking. Actually, I think my brain hates me.

"Why the fuck do you want to know?"

He's towering over me. I want to run, but all my legs want to do is wobble and give out. I think this is probably the most terrified I've ever felt, with Josh looming over me, swearing, surrounded by his friends.

My friends are not here; they don't come to places like this. Only rugby players do, apparently—and they come here to tower.

"No, I-I didn't, I didn't mean … " I try to work out what to say, how to get out of this one … Why didn't my brain figure out ten minutes ago that going up to this guy and saying "Are you gay?" would be a bad idea?

How the hell does someone get so tall?

"Will you go out with me?" I practically scream, because my allergic non-thinking brain has finally decided to give up the ghost. I close my eyes, wondering if anyone will complain if he hits me. I can hear his friends laughing.

"What?"

The first time I said it was loud, but this second time I'm amazed he can hear me. I can barely hear myself, although that might be because my ears are buzzing. "Will you go out with me … ?"

Josh blinks at me. I blink back. His mates stop laughing and look at him, kind of puzzled. I stare at him desperately, hoping like hell the answer is 'no' .

He looks around, as if it's a joke, as if he's going to make a joke. I give a crazy, horrible cheesy grin. He reaches forward and pats the side of my cheek gently. "Well, kid, you've pulled. Outside the front gates. Tomorrow, at seven."

Josh laughs. They all laugh. The laughter follows me as I stumble out the door.

*~*~*

"Well?" Emmy demands. She's been doing that since I got back. "Well?"

I make her wait, though—if I had to go through being traumatised, she can stand waiting. I get a drink, and then spread my essay work across the desk and look at it for a bit. "Well?"

"No."

"No what? Did you ask him out for me?"

"He's gay."

"Oh."

"He asked me out."

"What?" She stares as me, trying to see if I'm joking, but I don't joke all that much. "He asked you out?"

It stings a bit, the way she says it, as if no one would ever ask me out. It hasn't happened since I started university, but still. "Yeah. Well … I sort of asked him out. I asked him if he was gay and it pissed him off, and I couldn't think of anything else to say."

"Oh man, Luke." She shakes her head at my inability to interact. "Oh man."

I scowl at her. "It's your fault! The only instructions you gave were 'find out if he's gay, and if not, ask him out for me'. What was I meant to do? And the next time you want to find out if a guy is available, you can ask him yourself; I am not going through that again."

"Well, at least you have a date, yeah?" I think the acquisition of dates is all that Emmy thinks is important.

"He's six feet tall! I don't like tall guys." I poke my work a bit with the pencil. "I like cute guys. Sweet little emo guys with eyeliner and shit, not guys that look like the missing fucking link. Safe guys."

"He's hot!" Emmy smirks at me, because she finds it funny. I'm starting to wonder why I agreed to do the favour for her in the first place. In fact, I'm starting to wonder why I'm friends with her at all. "All the girls will be jealous."

"What if he wants to take it further than just a date?" Okay, maybe I am whingeing now, but he scares me. He really does. "What the hell are we going to talk about?"

Emmy rolls her eyes. "Just let him talk. If it gets bad, phone me and I'll come rescue you, okay?" She pats my hair, messing it all up, and then makes a face. "Oh, and Charles says he'll return your notes tomorrow after lectures."

"I'm going over to his tomorrow evening anyway … "

"Don't you have a date now?"

I scowl and flip her off.

*~*~*

Charles takes things more seriously. "Look, why don't you just tell him you made a mistake?"

"Six feet tall."

"He's not going to hurt you, especially not in the middle of a restaurant. Tell him you came to ask if some girl wanted to go out with him, and then made a mistake."

"He'll laugh at me," I mumble.

"Probably," he says, sounding bored, and I remember that I don't really like Charles so much because he makes me feel like a dick. "I brought back your notes. And Chelsea brought back your hair-straighteners."

I take the bag. "How … are … things?" I ask, a little cautiously. Because it's always a hard question to ask.

"Okay … " He sighs a little. "Not long left now. She's pretty much just staying in the house." He frowns and I notice that he's starting to get wrinkles on his forehead.

"Is Chels … well?"

"Oh yeah, size of the side of a house, but still well. It shouldn't be a problem, really; her mum had no problems. I mean, she came out fine herself, so I'm sure the kid will manage. People have babies all the time; it's perfectly normal."

I let him talk for a bit longer, because Charles is going through a hell of a lot of problems right now and mine seem a lot smaller in comparison. Chelsea is his half-sister, although the half doesn't make much of a difference; they both look pretty similar, all fine blond hair and wide blue eyes. When I first met Charles, I had a bit of a crush on him, although that faded pretty quickly because Charles isn't really interested—in guys, girls … or anything really. "Well, I hope it goes okay, man," I say when he's finished.

"Yes. And good luck with your date." He gives a grin, the first one I've seen for a while. "Don't forget the mace!"