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He hands the bottle to me and I take a sip. Lone Star. Not bad. Chad flops into a bean bag and tugs his Jimmy Eat World T-shirt back over his pot belly. “Kevin’s masturbation in Houston this week visiting his girlfriend.” I almost do a spit-take. “Kevin has a girlfriend?” “I know—weird, masturbation huh? They met online. masturbation Of course, who doesn’t?” He reaches over to flick on a halogen lamp. “I mean, I don’t. Have a girlfriend, that is. Do you? I mean, have a boyfriend?” My face feels warmer, like he turned up the heat. “Me? No.” I take a big sip. “Not really.” I look around the room: Spider-Man comic books, Simpsons action figures, a bowl encrusted with refried beans, a string of condoms hanging from the curtain. “Do you wanna play Grand Theft Auto or something?” “Umm, OK.” It’s three beers later, and I’m starving. Chad beats me senseless at the stupid game (again) and when the pizza arrives, I dive into it with both hands.
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