“Hi,” a quiet voice says behind me, and I see a familiar pale-faced guy standing awkwardly next to me.
“Casper,” I say, much too friendly, and then narrow my eyes. Right. This guy was touching Whit the other day. “What’s up?”
“I…” he clears his throat. “It’s Magnus. Anyways, I just wanted to say hi. You know because, well, any friend of Whit’s is a friend of mine.”
Whit’s not my friend, but I don’t say that, just eyeball Magnus, wondering ifhewas with Whit last night. Is he the reason why Whit looks so deliciously rumpled?
Then again, is Whit even into guys?
I don’t know.
I don’t know much about my roommate, it seems.
Magnus looks at me, shuffling on his feet. He’s wearing a button-down shirt, plaid pants, and suspenders.
Who is this kid?
“You here alone?” he asks, and I nod.
“Why?”
“Just thought maybe Whit was with you.”
Of course he’d want to know.
“Nope, just me.”
Magnus gestures to the seat next to mine, and I see his nails are painted a different color today. They’re bright blue and match his shirt.
I raise an eyebrow at him.
“Can I sit?” he asks, kind of nervously.
“I don’t own it,” I reply, and he nods, biting his lip and sliding onto the stool. His legs dangle off the ground like a damn child.
“So…” he says, and I interrupt him.
“What’s up? Just spit it out. I’m in a shit mood this morning and in no mood to guess.”
Magnus nods vigorously. “Sure. I just…um….”
“Aren’t you supposed to be on the debate team with Whit? From what I can see, you’re shit at speaking, little dude.”
Magnus straightens his shoulders for a moment, feigning confidence. “I happen to be amazing at debates. Now talking to the Hulk is another matter.”
“The Hulk?” I ask, and then I add, “Never mind. Just tell me what you want to say.”
Magnus clears his throat. “Are you and Whit…you know…like together?”
He whispers the last word, so I ask, “Together?”
“It’s just, well, you know…. You seemed kind of possessive of him the other day, but you’re not really his type, so I was just wondering.”
I bristle. “And what type might that be?”
Magnus waves his hand around nervously, accidentally slapping me in the arm a little too hard and pales even more. “You’re too…big.”
I sit a little taller, pissed that this tiny little guy is making me feel like shit about my genetics.