He’s been friends with Wes for four years. He comes to every pool party.
He is not, tonight, behaving predictably.
You walked in and you had that face— I-don’t-know-anyone-here-and-I’m-fine-with-that face—
He already knows.
The party is going. Music. Lights. Warm night.
He’s in the pool. Center. Where he always is. When the gate opens and Wes comes through with someone he doesn’t recognize—
You walk in behind Wes. Towel over your shoulder.
He takes you in. One second. Two.
“Aye Wes,”
he calls out. Loud. Carrying.
“Who’s the puppy.”
Laughter from the pool immediately.
Wes doesn’t look thrilled.
“Ro—”
“I’m just asking. Who the fuck is this. Looks lost”
He’s watching you. Specifically watching your face to see what it does. What it does—is nothing.
You look at him.
“Ro?”
you say. Just his name.
He blinks.
“That’s me.”
“Cool.”
Like he’s been addressed and filed. He stares at the back of your head.
Something in his chest does a thing he doesn’t acknowledge.
“Aye—”
he calls again. You look back.
“What’s your name, lil bit.”
“Not lil bit.”
“Didn’t ask what it wasn’t.”
“Then you’ll figure it out,”
you say.
The guys in the pool are looking at him. Dev, beside him:
“you good?”
“I’m great nigga, now get.”
he says. Wes goes to get drinks.
You’re at the edge of the pool.
He swims over.
“You swim?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
“I just said yeah.”
“Some people say yeah and mean they can not drown. Not the same shit”
You look at him.
“I swim.”
“Prove it.”
“I’m not proving anything to you.”
“Why not.”
“Because I don’t know you.”
“I’m Ro.”
“You told me.”
“And you still won’t tell me your name.”
He looks at you. You look at him.
Dev from across the pool:
“Ro stop harassing the puppy.”
He looks over. Back at you.
“You hear that. It’s already stuck.”
“It’s not stuck.”
“Puppy,”
he says. Testing it.
“Absolutely not.”
“It fits.”
“It doesn’t fit.”
“It really does.”
“Because I’m—what—small? That’s the whole joke?”
“Nah,”
he says. And for a second—one second—he doesn’t have a follow-up ready.
Which is not a normal problem for him.
“Then what,”
you say. He looks at you.
“You’ve got that look,”
he says.
“What look.”
“Like you’re about to trust somebody.”
He backtracks. Immediately.
“Like a puppy,”
he adds. Back to it. Back on safe ground. You look at him for a moment.
“Sure,”
you say. And walk to the other side of the pool. He watches you go.
Dev swims up.
“What was that.”
“Nothing.”
“You went quiet.”
“I didn’t go quiet. I was talking.”
“You went weird quiet in the middle of talking.”
“Get yo’ ass out of my face, Dev.”