Sasquatch to the Moon

18: Wingman

YETI

"You don't need to do that." I glance at him and he points to a turn.

"Why not?" He points to another turn. We're heading to the south side. "Girls melt for a good gay boy. All I have to do is open up with the 'heyyyyyy queens' and I've got them all on my side. I look enough like a twink to pull it off," he points again. "I know it's stupid and it plays into so many stereotypes and it's lowkey detrimental to the community but it works like nobody's shit." 

"One, you're not a twink. Two, I'm sure it's not that easy."

"First of all, yes I am, I'm skinny, white, and wear black converse and skinny jeans. I'm textbook twink. And second-"

I cut him off, "you're not a twink. One of my friends back in Sweden is a twink. You're very much not." Fynn was... very much dead on in that stereotype. 

"What, you got a personal stake in this? I'm a twink." 

"In comparison to me and the team? Maybe. In the general scheme of things you are very far from it."

"You seem to have an argument here." 

"Most twinks can't bench their body weight and a half." 

He pulls in a breath, "fair. Okay, yeah, I'm running with that, Steph calls me a twink here and there and that's a good response considering I wish he wouldn't. Anyway. Drunk girls and gay guys could spend years talking each other up. All I have to do is go 'see the tall guy with the white hair? He thinks you're pretty cute, but he's shy as hell,' it's all about the shy thing, girls like it when guys are shy."

"Rocket," I have to laugh. "Rocket girls can like as many shy guys as they want, but they don't like me."

"I think that's because you're off putting. You're big, you're strong, and you do not warm up fast."

"Are you calling me mean?" I play with him a little.

"No, not, not mean, just not friendly on the first try. Trust me, I know," he shrugs. "You were mean as shit and scared the crap out of me the first few months of the season. Still do scare me, but a little less because now I know you're not going to beat the ever-loving shit out of me for liking guys."

"You expected me to-"

"I wasn't going to say it, but yes, yes I did."

"No, I," I laugh it off and we're crossing a highway. "Never."

"So what's your type?"

"What?"

"In girls. What do you like in girls. You an ass or boobs guy?" He laughs at this statement and I breathe out.

Fuck. "what?"

"You gotta have a type, Yets, I know you get laid at least a little," He sets his elbow on the center console and leans his head on it, smiling at me. "So which is it?"

"Ass, probably," guys don't have boobs so there's that.

"Good choice, good choice," He laughs. "Keep talking, I want to have the type down. Dark hair? Light hair? Ethnicity?"

"Don't care about the ethnicity," I get a little tense. "Darker hair, yeah, gotta have something to contrast this." I gesture at my head.

"Okay, yeah, personality? Height?"

"Tall. Definitely into height," I glance at him. Six three, six six in skates. "Uh, definitely has to have a big personality because I'm not all that interesting."