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tried to come up for air. “I… c -couldn’t…keep…up, my dude!”
    Angela and I gave each other quizzical glance s. What in the world was a squirter and how could a woman do it in his face?
    “So,” Angela twirl ed her hair as she smiled sheepishly. “What’s a squirter?”
    The whole table went up in laugh ter. Even Stenton bashfully laughed and tried to hide his face. From the second of it I caught, I could see the sun shine through his smile. It was the most surprising thing I’d experienced. The camera guy, Drew, started banging the table and had the dishes clanging. Once again, Angela and I glanced at each other gravely confused.
    “You must not be one,” Drew choked out.
    “Either that or you’ve been fucking jackasses,” Alton plugged , sobering. “I can show you better than I can tell you. Holla atcha’ boy.”
    They were like a bunch of twelve years olds at the table. Whatever a squirter was, it was a sexual reference and I didn’t want to take part in a conversation like that with these clowns.
    “Aye, Tiger,” Alton called over to me, referring to my school’s mascot. “I do twinsies. I can assess your squirting capabilities, too. I won’t even charge you.” He could no longer hold on to his mirth. He laughed until tears dripped from his eyes.
    There was another bout of laughter. My eyes darted over to Angela , who was giggling herself. I couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t sit there and be demeaned by a pint sized jock. I promised Angela I wouldn’t come back for him, but I didn’t say I would stay and endure it. I peeled my last twenty from my purse, slapped it on the table and left the booth. This time I didn’t give a bathroom excuse.   
    I went straight for the bench in the waiting area and parked it there. I must have been out there for almost ten minutes when I noticed Stenton Rogers coming through the double doors that let out to the waiting area. He stood by one of the doors, facing the glass. He wore army fatigue carpenter shorts and a salmon, V-neck cotton t-shirt with white Converse sneakers and a baseball cap. His style of fashion was…eclectic. I was not the one to critique fashion; I had not an ounce of creativity in me as far as that was concerned. This look worked for Stenton Rogers and his tattoos.
    Those tattoos…
    I was growing captivated by them once again and caught myself. I took a deep breath and shook my head, remembering why I was at this diner in the first place. My phone chirped an alert from Facebook. I checked to find a message from Notnet Srego . I’d totally forgotten about getting back to this “anonymous” new friend. I’d hoped it was a tutoring prospect. I could sure use the money.
    The message read:
    You never got back to me about the philosophy class.
    I returned: That’s because I don’t know who you are.
    The phone chirped. You accept requests from random people?
    I didn’t know how to respond to that. I didn’t like how this jerk was questioning me.
    I do it because I get a lot of requests for tutoring this way. You mentioned philosophy. What about it do you want to know? I tried being more direct.
    I looked up, absentmindedly glancing over to Stenton ’s back, which was facing me. His head was still down, zoned into his phone. I diverted my attention to the other side of the area. I didn’t want to get caught gawking at him—not that I was—but I just didn’t want to give him or Angela the impression that I wanted him.
    As I waited on Angela to finish up, my phone chirped again:
    Is it true that we have no perfect idea of anything but of a perception?
    Huhn?
    I typed back: David Hume? What about it? Do you need help building an argument... Pro or Con?
    Then the doors open ed and Angela was the first to come through, wearing a conspirator’s smile. Strangely, I was relieved. That meant I wouldn’t be getting told off for walking out again.
    “Ready, Sten tRo?” Alton called out.
    Stenton turned to the crowd. I noticed his eyes glided