The cafeteria buzzes with Monday energy, that unique blend of weekend hangovers and academic dread that makes the air feel heavier than usual. I pick at my fries, still riding the afterglow from Saturday night. My body feels different somehow, like I’ve been rewired from the inside out.
“Dude, you look fucking wrecked,” William announces as he drops his tray across from me with his usual lack of grace. His glasses sit crooked on his nose, and his dirty blonde hair sticks up at odd angles like he just rolled out of bed. “In a good way, though. Like you’ve been getting laid non-stop.”
I feel my face heat up because he’s not far off. Since Saturday’s swing session, Kelsey has been insatiable. We’ve barely left my bed except for classes.
“I’d say something snarky, but honestly, you’re not wrong,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck where Kelsey left yet another mark yesterday. “It’s been a pretty intense weekend.”
William leans forward, his eyes widening behind his thick frames. “Details, man. I need details.”
Before I can answer, a familiar shadow falls across our table. Christina sets her tray down with surgical precision, her cross necklace catching the fluorescent light as she arranges her perfectly portioned lunch.
“Corruption,” she says simply, her green eyes flicking between William and me. “No doubt about it.”
I’m about to defend myself when a massive figure appears at our table, tray piled impossibly high with what looks like three separate meals.
“Mind if I join?” Troy asks, his usually confident voice sounding oddly subdued. His broad shoulders are slumped, making his imposing frame seem smaller somehow.
William perks up immediately. “Do we have a new friend?” he asks, looking at me with raised eyebrows before turning back to Troy.
Troy sets his overloaded tray down carefully. “Sup. I’m Troy,” he offers, his voice lacking its usual booming quality.
“Sup. I’m Will,” William responds easily, pushing his glasses up his nose. He doesn’t seem intimidated by Troy at all.
Christina’s perfectly shaped eyebrows draw together in confusion. “Troy, why are you sitting with us?” she asks, her voice carrying that special blend of politeness and judgment she’s perfected over the years.
Troy sighs, his massive shoulders rising and falling dramatically. “I’m having a really bad day,” he admits, stabbing at his mountain of mashed potatoes with surprising delicacy for someone his size.
I feel a pang of sympathy, remembering how genuinely nice he’d been on Saturday night. “What’s going on, buddy?”
Troy looks up, genuine anguish in his hazel eyes. “My guy died in Project Zomboid,” he says, his deep voice cracking with emotion. “Had him for like seventy-three in-game days, man. Best run I ever had.”
William’s face lights up with immediate understanding. “Dude, that’s brutal. How’d it happen?”
“Fucking scratch on my forearm,” Troy laments, pushing his sleeves up to gesture at the spot where his digital counterpart met its doom. “Thought it was nothing, but then the fever hit and… game over.”
“Yeah, that’s the worst,” I say, wincing in sympathy. “Whenever Will and I play, we actually turn off scratches completely. We make it so only getting bitten can turn you into a zombie.”
Troy’s face instantly lights up. “Wait, you play Zomboid? For real?” He leans forward, nearly knocking over his mountain of food. “None of my friends ever want to try it. They all say it’s too complicated.”
“Yeah.”
“Would you guys want to play with me sometime?” he asks, a hopeful gleam in his hazel eyes. “I’ve got a server set up and everything.”
Before I can answer, William tosses his napkin onto his tray. “Sorry, man. I met this girl last night with three chins and a bush as big as the Amazon rainforest.” He adjusts his glasses with a smug grin. “I’m gonna be with her all week.”
Troy just nods, disappointment flickering across his face before he masks it with that easy-going smile.
“I’ll play with you,” I offer, surprising myself with how quickly the words come out. “I’m not very good though. I die pretty fast usually.”
Troy’s entire demeanor shifts, his massive shoulders straightening as he breaks into a genuine grin. “Nah, who cares if you’re good or not? Games are always funner when you play with friends.”
“Funner isn’t a word,” Christina interjects, her perfectly manicured fingers adjusting her cross necklace. “The correct term is more fun.”
Troy gives her another easy shrug. “Alright then. More fun.”
Christina’s eyes narrow slightly as she looks between Troy and me. “I don’t want Mason picking up bad habits from you.”
“Speaking of habits,” I say, suddenly seizing on an opportunity I’ve been thinking about since Saturday night, “I was actually interested in learning how to lift from you, Troy.” The words tumble out in a nervous rush. “I’ve… always been so anxious about starting since I don’t know anyone who could teach me.”
Troy’s reaction catches me completely off guard. His entire face transforms, like I’ve just offered him something precious. His hazel eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks at me with such naked appreciation that it’s almost uncomfortable, like a father who’s been starved for his son’s affection.
“Dude, I would absolutely love to teach you,” he says, his deep voice vibrating with genuine enthusiasm. “Most guys are too proud to ask for help. That’s really cool of you, Mason.”
William snorts from across the table. “You’re gonna turn into one of those protein shake bros now? Wearing tank tops in winter and talking about your ‘gains’?”
I’m about to respond to William when Christina’s fork clatters against her plate. Her face flushes with color as she leans forward, green eyes flashing with an intensity that makes me flinch.
“Mason, no!” she exclaims, her voice rising enough to make nearby students turn their heads. “Muscle men are gross! All that… bulging and sweating.” She waves her hand dismissively at Troy’s massive frame before fixing her gaze directly on me. “You’re perfect exactly as you are.”
The table falls silent. Troy’s expression shifts from enthusiasm to something more guarded, his massive shoulders tensing slightly.
“I, uh…” I stammer, not sure how to respond. Part of me wants to defend Troy, but another part shrinks from the confrontation.
To my surprise, Troy breaks the tension with a gentle chuckle. “Everyone’s entitled to their opinion,” he says, his deep voice remarkably kind despite Christina’s rudeness. He turns to me with that same encouraging expression. “But if you want to learn, the offer stands. No pressure either way.”
William snorts again, clearly enjoying the drama. “Damn, Christina. Tell us how you really feel.”
Christina ignores him completely, her focus laser-sharp on me. “Mason, I’ve known you since we were children. You’ve always been thoughtful and sensitive. These gym types…” She gestures vaguely at Troy again. “They’re just not your people.”
Troy holds up his hands, his massive frame suddenly defensive. “Look, I’m not trying to come between two…”
“You’re not,” I cut him off, my voice surprisingly firm. “Christina is just passionate about a lot of things.” I straighten my shoulders, feeling a strange new confidence flowing through me. “I want to go to the gym though.”
Christina’s mouth falls open slightly, her green eyes widening with what looks like genuine hurt.
“College stinks for you, Mason,” she groans, shaking her head with dramatic disappointment. “You used to be so good at taking my advice.”
William lets out a low whistle, clearly enjoying the drama unfolding before him. “Damn, Mason’s growing a backbone. Must be all that sex you’re having.”
I feel my face grow hot under everyone’s stares. Christina’s disappointment weighs on me like a physical thing, but there’s something exhilarating about standing my ground.
“I’m not sure I’ll stick with it or anything,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck nervously, “but I kinda want to be more self-confident, you know? Try something new.”
Troy nods encouragingly, his massive shoulders relaxing as he leans forward. “That’s what it’s all about, man. Just taking that first step.”
“Plus, maybe lifting Kelsey up and down on my dick would be fun.” The moment it leaves my mouth, I want to crawl under the table and die.
To my surprise, Troy doesn’t laugh at me. Instead, his face lights up with genuine enthusiasm.
“Hell yeah, brother!” He pounds his massive fist on the table, making our trays jump. “That’s exactly the kind of goal that keeps you motivated. Your first benchmark should be to bench Kelsey, she looks light as fuck anyway.” He lowers his voice conspiratorially. “Chicks love that shit, trust me.”
William laughs across the table while Christina’s mouth hangs open in silent horror.
“That would be awesome,” I admit, a grin spreading across my face despite my embarrassment. The thought of being strong enough to hold Kelsey up against a wall or carry her to bed without getting winded after three steps sends a thrill through me.
As we’re talking, something catches my eye. At a table just behind Troy, a guy and girl are staring directly at me, heads bent close together as they whisper. As soon as I make eye contact, they both freeze mid-conversation and look away, suddenly fascinated by their lunch trays.
“Huh?” I mutter, the strange interaction making my stomach twist uncomfortably.
Troy turns slightly, following my gaze. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head. The pair doesn’t resume their whispering, both now pointedly looking anywhere but in our direction. Something about their reaction makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, but I push the feeling away.
