“What do you know about…trigonometry?” I quizzed.
“Ah, man, that sine, cosine and tangent ‘where a D is constant’ bullshit bored the hell out of me. I was a B student at best there.” Stenton chuckled.
“Okay. What about…quantum mechanics?” I took it up several notches.
“That’s the more modern science. I’m from the old school where we learned elementary particles, atoms, molecules, substances…metals, crystals and other groups of matter. Not that New Age shit.”
I took in a forkful and chewed while looking him directly in the eye. “You never answered my question though,” I challenged slickly, feeling the need to get one off on him. He was probably okay in school, but he wasn’t Zoey type of good.
Stenton rolled his eyes as he sighed and dropped his fork onto his plate, making a clash of it. “Quantum mechanics pretty much provides an extensive framework for several features of the modern periodic table. One thing it encompasses is the activities of atoms during chemical bonding. That bullshit has been substantial in the development of many modern technologies. Blah…blah…blah.”
My mouth dropped. “Jeez Louise! You’re a geek!”
Stenton snorted. “I’d much rather be called a cerebral rocker baller,” he murmured as he went back for his food.
I realized from that conversation that there was more to Stenton than just his tattoos and a ball. Why was it that no one talked about that aspect of his abilities? Why was he never quizzed on trivia during interviews? It would provide a great spin for shows and make their talk a lot less mundane. I’d guessed that Stenton was right when he said people only know what they want to know.
I, on the other hand, wanted to know more.
My fixation with Stenton took off at that point. I found that he occupied my thoughts throughout my day, no matter where I was or what I was doing. I could be in class and found myself etching his name, at church and itched to check his timeline, and/or out with the guy I was seeing at the time, Andrew, and wondering what Stenton’s conversations were like while on a date.
Almost immediately, our friendship seemed to have evolved to written communication via inboxes on Facebook. They were random, fun and exciting all at once. I’d nervously initiate mine and hold my breath awaiting his response. I knew he was a busy man doing I had no idea what, but busy.
~~~~~~~~~~
Me: I have a question that you can’t be offended by.
I waited for his reply.
Stenton: I’m game. Do you.
Me: Ummmm... Are those your real teeth?
My heart beat wildly in my chest. It was a burning question I’d had since the first time I’d seen his smile. His real smile. Not only was I struck by how long it took to experience it, but also by its radiance. The brilliance of Stenton’s smile was blinding. I was growing attached to it. He was generous with sharing it with me. Experiencing that man’s smile was like discovering a crisp well on a parching pilgrimage. It instantly decompressed all stressors.
Stenton: What the fuck Zo? LMAO
Me: IJS! They’re kinda big...too nicely aligned.
Stenton: And so are your boobs but you don’t see me inquiring about their authenticity.
Me: Don’t be pigheaded, you dork.
I wouldn’t speak on the sensation that flashed in my core at his comeback. That was private along with the rest of the inexplicable things he caused me to feel without his hands...or mouth.
Stenton: Don’t go getting all prudish. I used to get teased a lot as a kid about my big ass choppers. Trust me when I say I've grown into them.
Me: I don’t believe you.
Stenton: Don’t believe what?
Me: That your teeth are real.
Stenton: I’ll prove it to you.
Me: How?
Stenton: I don’t know. I’ll think of something. And then you’ll prove your boobs are real.
Me: Dude! I’m poor. My parents can’t afford a boob job!
Stenton: But you studied around rich people. Who’s to say you didn’t have a sponsor?