“Trust me, the dorms are boring,” he says, entering my place. He looks around at the sofa, the flat screen television, and the pile of photos on the coffee table. “This photography thing isn’t just about the scholarship or school, is it? You like, really, really enjoy it.” He picks up a picture I took of a garden I passed during my walk to school.

“It’s kind of my version of writing tortured poetry.” I shut the door and slip off my jacket. “It helps me express myself when I can’t seem to verbalize how I feel.”

Seth sets down the photo and reaches into his pocket, retrieving the photo Jenna took of us. He briefly assesses it before placing it down on the table.

“Can I look at it now?” I ask, coming up beside him.

He shrugs, stepping back. “Be my guest.”

As I move forward to look at the picture, he walks around my small living room, checking out my collection of shot glasses, countless pictures, and DVDs. I lean down to look at the photo and smile. We look so into the kiss and all that tension Seth carries is gone. Tomorrow, I’ll make sure to tell Jenna how brilliant she is.

When I stand up straight, I notice Seth is staring at a framed picture of my parents and me near the beach. It was taken on a timer, but turned out to be a pretty amazing photo.

“This is your mom and dad?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah, that was taken on the beach not too far from where I grew up.”

“It’s pretty... And you all look so happy.” He steps back from the picture and faces me. “So, now what do we do?”

I shrug, pretending I have no idea, when really I do. I have tons and tons of fucking ideas of what the two of us could do together. “We could watch a movie or something.”

Seth contemplates my offer. “I’m down for a movie just as long as it’s a comedy and,” a conniving grin spreads across his face, “You eat my ice cream concoction.”

I make a gag face. “I seriously don’t know if I can do it.”

He rolls his eyes at me. “Quit being a baby.” He swings around me, collects the bag of ice cream off the coffee table, then heads to the kitchen.

I follow after him and when I enter, he’s opening and shutting cupboards.

“Where the hell are your bowls?” he asks through a huff.

I open the dishwasher, grab a large red bowl and spoon, and set them down on the counter. Grinning, he opens the tubs of ice cream and scoops a spoonful of each flavor into the bowl. Once he’s finished, he stirs it around, mixing it all together, and then scoots the bowl toward me.

“Dig in.” He grins.

I frown at the bowl. “I find it kind of twisted that you’re enjoying this so much.”

“I thought we clarified at the art show that it was fun watching you pout.”

I rub my hand across my face and sigh. “Fine, you win this one.”

“And I thought we also clarified at the art show that I win everything,” he says, fully entertained.

Shaking my head, I scoop up a spoonful of the ice cream. Then, holding my breath, I take a taste.

“So?” Seth waits eagerly for me to answer.

“It’s about as disgusting as I thought.” I reach for a paper towel and spit the ice cream in it.

Seth laughs in shock before turning his nose up at the contents of the bowl. “I can’t believe you ate that. That looks so gross.”

I lower the paper towel from my face and arch an eyebrow. “Why are you acting like you never eat this?”

“Because I don’t. I mean, I’ll put it all in a bowl and eat it separately, but I don’t mix it together like that.” He covers his mouth as he tries to silence his laughter. “I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t think you would eat it.”

“Now you owe me.” I slide the bowl across the counter toward him. “Dig in.”

His nose crinkles. “I’d rather not.”

I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the counter, pretending to be more upset than I really am. “Then I’m not going to forgive you.”

“Yeah, right. You’re too nice not to.” But he picks up the bowl, dips the spoon into the ice cream, and takes bite. He wavers as he swallows it. “It’s really not that bad. Totally works for the munchies.”

He eats half the bowl while I dish up my own ice cream then we wander into the living room and sit down in front of the shelf that has my DVDs on it.

“So, a comedy, huh?” I skim the titles, searching for one I think would be good.

“I like funny movies. Life’s depressing enough without spending time watching movies that suck the life from your soul.”

I glance up at him and find him staring at his scars again. “Seth… I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I wish you would. I can handle the ugly stuff… I know it exists.”

“Knowing it exists and experiencing it are two different things… it changes you, you know?” When I don’t say anything, he sets his bowl down and sighs. “I’m still not ready to tell you where the scars came from, but if you want, I can tell you a little bit about myself.”

I nod, inching closer to him. “You know I want to hear it.”

He blows a stressed breath as he rests back on his hands. “I used to be this really funny person.”

“What do you mean used to? You still are.”

“No, I’m different now. I mean, I’m still funny and everything, but half the time it feels like I’m running on autopilot. Jokes come naturally to me and it’s easier just to laugh stuff off.” He leans forward and rubs his arm. “I didn’t tell my mother I was gay. She just sort of found out after… something happened. She wasn’t happy at all. Told me I deserved what happened to me. She almost threw me out of the house, but after some pathetic begging on my part, she let me stay. Honestly, I wish I could’ve left sooner, but I didn’t have anywhere to go.” He shrugs. “And that’s pretty much the gist of it.”