Tricks for a Heart [mlm]

Chapter 6

"You seemed to be occupied during the meeting, eh?" Shafiq says. "Somebody already started browsing on Grounder, I see."

It's around half-past five p.m. and Shafiq and I are already on our way to the LRT station to go home when he phenomenally, though probably not intentionally, combines the two gay dating apps that I commonly use into one name.

It actually entertains me, because now I can't stop laughing at the hilarity of the misnomer. "Fiq, you gotta pick ... which one are you referring to?"

"Huh?" Shafiq asks, a little bit dumbfounded.

"It's either Grindr or Growlr," I say "Not ..." I cackle again as I try to push through the conversation, "... Grounder."

"There's no such thing?" Shafiq asks.

"No, but we can make one from the combination of the two."

"I have other projects to focus on rather than to co-found yet another app for my gay people." Shafiq saying "my gay people" is probably the most ridiculous bullshit I ever heard from him ... as far as I know, I'm his only gay friend ever to exist.

"Anyway," I say, "which one are you referring to?"

"Ala ... the one with the scruffy big men."

"Growlr it is," I explain, though I'm certain Shafiq would use the term Grounder again because he has no reason to pay attention to such details.

Shafiq is scrolling through his phone when he responds next. "I like that one better for you. I remember you met a lot of good guys who didn't talk shit about your body there."

"Yeah, because my body type is what those people are looking for there."

"Which sucks in some ways ... because you'd also want to find people who can see past your physical parts, right?"

"Gosh ... why aren't you gay?" I sigh. "You're the perfect boyfriend material."

"If love can work out without us having to use our physical parts, then I can be your boyfriend, because I definitely can see past your physical parts. But you have to fight your best friend to the death for it, I think."

"I need the physical parts ... sorry," I say, but Shafiq is having that hyper-focused look again, squinting into his phone and looks concerned about something. "Is everything alright?"

"No," he answers nonchalantly. "It's ... well, it's Minho being stupid again."

"What ... did he send you the pictures? Is it a cropped photo of yours to which he complimented?" I ask.

"I'm sorry?" Shafiq says, chuckling along with his response.

"He told you that he wanted to show you someone who he thought looked cute and ended up cropping your photo and sending it back to you." I groan. I wonder why there's a bit of frustration starting in the depths of my chest. I probably don't want to know. "Doesn't he have a job? Why is he doing this?"

"Okay ... I don't know what you're talking about, but Minho simply asked me if I already got off work, and if you're with me," Shafiq says.

We pass the ticket gate and are heading up to the platform when my phone rings out of the blue. I glance at it and notice Luqman Tajuddin calling me as I'm pushing through the crowd at the train station.

What the fuck?

I wait for a moment.

"Who's that?" Shafiq asks.

"I ... I—" I start, but don't know how to explain. I don't exactly want to talk to Luqman in front of my other close friend, who's also my own housemate and current best friend, because it feels weird. And a bit embarrassing.