Dead Politician Society

Chapter 12: Jonathan

Jonathan ducked into the doorway of the Bahen Center for Information Technology. His first class wasn’t for an hour, but while his original plan had been to grab a coffee and study, he wasn’t walking to Second Cup in this rain. Besides, he felt like an ass if he spent two dollars for coffee at his mom’s competition. So he’d be a bit tired. No big deal.

He hadn’t slept well. Like an idiot, he’d been replaying his not even five minute conversation with Jessica in the quad. He’d been nervous and said a couple dumb things, but she didn’t seem to mind. Was this really coming together now? And why now? Was it too late to mean anything? His last bathroom trip before falling into fragmented sleep had been at five a.m.

He wiped off his glasses and pushed his damp bangs off his forehead. He was about to check his phone for messages when an annoyance caught the corner of his eye.

Diane was coming straight at him in her shiny black rain slicker. She looked like an important little missile with a moving target in its sights.

What did she want from him? He wasn’t waiting around to find out.

He shivered as he entered the lobby. The A/C was still on its summer setting of full blast. Still, he never got tired of being in this building. For one thing, it housed the computer science department—his double major with politics. For another, its architecture combined old and new in a way that he found endlessly appealing. The long lobby was flanked with skylights high overhead, one wall of exposed yellow brick that had originally been the outer wall of a heritage building, and another wall of ultramodern lights and design. The space made him feel like anything was possible, like instead of graduating at the end of next year, he could scale the brick wall like Spider-Man, soar through the skylights and be anything—anyone—he could imagine.

But that was fantasy again. Real world, he reminded himself, like his therapist had told him. And he didn’t have time to linger in the lobby. He made a beeline for the nearest men’s room. As he pushed open the door, he saw the black rain slicker enter the lobby. He’d have to wait Diane out.

He could face her, he supposed. Listen to whatever sales pitch she had for whatever boring Christian cause she was championing now. But avoiding her was way more fun—like a video game that he refused to let her win. He pictured her little clenched fists, her foot tapping impatiently on the lobby’s shiny tiled floor while her rage score increased and her rationality depleted as she contemplated barging into the men’s room after him—or slinking off in defeat to her first class of the day, wherever that happened to be.

Eventually, of course, she’d slink off.

His phone beeped. A text.

Jessica Dunne: Diane thinks Tree-Huggers have alliance with Commies. Will prob try to rope you into conversation.

Ah, that made sense. Politics, not some Christian cause.

Jonathan leaned against the wall to type his response. His original plan had been to hide inside a stall, but the space would be tight with his knapsack. Besides, Diane was such a rule-follower—she’d never come into the men’s room.

Jonathan Whyte: LOL. Ducked into men’s room to avoid her. What does she want?

Jessica Dunne: Clare and I faked an alliance. D wants to know if it’s true.

Jonathan Whyte: Clare?

Jessica Dunne: New girl. Commie. Kind of clueless, but sweet.

He stupidly felt jealous. He was clueless and sweet too. Why was Jessica spending time with Clare instead of him?

Jonathan Whyte: You busy now?

Jessica Dunne: Biochem lab in an hour. Need to grab coffee and look over text.

Jonathan Whyte: Me too. Meet in Second Cup?

He studied the drowned rat in the mirror as he waited for her response. Damn, why had he suggested they meet? He needed a haircut. He needed a date with a bottle of Clearasil. He needed T-shirts that didn’t have cartoon characters on them—at least not with pompom noses. She would never take him seriously if she could see him right now.

What felt like ten minutes waiting was probably just under one.

Jessica Dunne: No, I really have to study. Should have last night, but stayed on computer too long trying to save the world from your evil clutches. Want rematch, by the way.

Jonathan smiled—both relief that she wouldn’t see him like this, and because she wanted to play computer games with him again. The night before, in his most comfy sweats in his cramped Kensington Market bedroom, he had felt like king of the world. Or at least its supreme ruler. Not because he won—he’d let Jessica win if he thought she wanted that. But because Jessica had been on the other end, playing Who’s Got the Power from her giant Rosedale bedroom. At least he assumed it was giant. Getting inside would be the next step.

Jonathan Whyte:You’re on. Any day, any time. I’ll make you weep again.

Jessica Dunne: Hardly wept. But impressed. You had tricky maneuvers I haven’t seen before.

He wished he had some real life maneuvers. He could kick himself for not having spent the past two years gathering experience so he’d be ready for Jessica—this woman who had been everywhere, seen everything, and still stayed so humble and simple. Damn, he hoped he didn’t choke when the moment came. If it came. Maybe he should find a prostitute to show him some things. Or maybe he could read up online about how to pleasure a woman.

But he was getting ahead of himself. He smacked his zit-infested forehead to bring him back to right here, right now. His pathetic virgin self. Who had the realJessica right here, texting him in real life.

Maybe he should go back on medication.

Jessica Dunne: Challenge: let’s switch countries. Think you’re right. Easier to win as China.

Jonathan Whyte: Sure, we can switch. I’ll beat you playing any country.

Because from what he’d observed, she liked confident men. It was easy to be confident behind a computer screen.

Jessica Dunne: Finland?

Jonathan Whyte:Tricky, but you’re on. Sounds like a good handicap given our relative skill levels.

Jessica Dunne: OMG. No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.

He smiled. She was feistier one-on-one than he’d imagined. Instead of carefully undressing her, as he’d always imagined the scene, maybe she’d prefer that he rip off her clothes cave man style. God, but if he did, and he was wrong…no wonder he’d never had sex before. All this second-guessing made it too easy to do nothing at all.

He could type something true in response, like I’d like one. But she seemed to be enjoying the game, the banter. He didn’t want to move so slowly that he ended up in the friend zone. But he didn’t want to blunder foolishly—to move too fast and end this. He had to play carefully. Keep it spicy but not push too hard for the realization of all his wet dreams.

Jonathan Whyte: I’m waiting for a woman who can challenge me.

Jessica Dunne: Get ready to be challenged, Finland.