Serial Dating

The Man, The Myth, The Legend

Rushil shrieked like a school girl and slapped a hand over his mouth. Lee cursed and spun around, only to curse again because he was so close to putting God on the phone and saying, "I'll see you in court, bitch." Lee truly did feel haunted by his past mistakes since Karma just served him a silver platter made of Milo Park and his own social incompetence.

It took Lee a solid second to come to terms with the fact that he was within spitting distance of The Man Himself. The Hunter Legend, USFC Football Star, the one, the only, Milo-fucking-Park standing on the steps of the university gym like he was supposed to be there, within Lee's general vicinity.

Lee said the first thing that came to mind.

"Excuse me?"

As much as he regretted the sass, he figured he might as well get it out in the open and flush it out of his system. He was determined to make a good impression even if his self-control screamed otherwise.

Park was just standing there, looking between Lee and Rushil before taking the final few steps down to them. He had a hand hooked on the strap of a gym duffle slung over his solid, stocky shoulder. His eyes were bright and, in the sunlight, a light amber. It was the first time Lee had seen them in person beyond Starbucks lighting. All this time he had thought they were just plain brown.

Not that... there's anything wrong with plain brown eyes. Evidently I'm more of a hoe for brown eyes anyway, he thought.

His existential crisis lasted all of five seconds before Park was talking again and pointing a finger at him. "Oh, hey, barista guy!"

Barista guy? he thought, eyes wide. Fuck, he recognizes me. Shit. Crisis mode initiated once again.

"I, um. Hey—"

The guy pointed a finger to himself and said, smile wide. "Do you remember my name? If you do, I'll be seriously impressed. I mean, I come in every day but still. That's gotta mean something."

"Y-Yeah, Milo," Lee croaked.

All of the heat in his body compressed into the singularity and erupted in his cheeks. It took less than two seconds for his entire face to feel like the high density temperature state just before the Big Bang because by then, Rushil was staring at him and putting two and two together like the stupid, idiotic, ignorant genius he was.

Fuck.

Milo put a hand up with a laugh and said, "Nice! High-five. What're you doing with my buddy Rushil?"

"B-Buddy?" Lee stammered, gingerly touching his hand to Milo's.

"Oh!" Rushil said, voice cracking. He stepped up beside the two of them and gestured broadly, saying, "Milo, meet Lee Asano. Lee, my roommate Milo Park, whom... you've... already met... at... Starbucks."

"Does this mean I get discounts now?" Milo said.

Lee swallowed at the hint of Milo's accent. He suspected as much just from the passing conversations he caught at Starbucks, but now, in the sunlight, Lee could see it clear as day. Milo had a distinctly Latin American accent that lilted the end of his sentences and caught Lee lingering on every word.

Because of his lingering, he nearly forgot to answer.

"No, I charge interest," Lee said before he could stop himself. He slapped a hand over his mouth and thought, Cool it with the sass, mister! "I-I mean, I'm not allowed to give friends discounts. I barely get a discount on my own drinks as it is."

"Fuck Starbucks then. Free drinks for all, man," Milo said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Solid economic plan. You should run for president," Lee said, as if his humor wasn't already as dry as the Sahara Desert. He blamed it on their conversation about Ezra.