Hooking Up

Hooking Up By J.M. Snyder We arrange to meet at Fairpark Mall because neither of us is ready to bring the other home just yet. It’s been three weeks since we met, an eternity online, but I’m still cautious. I know what he says he looks like, know who he claims to be, but nowadays you never can tell. I’m waiting outside the food court, leaning back against the wall with my hips thrust forward and the usual scowl on my face. My black clothes must look like a bruise against the whitewashed bricks. Through my dyed bangs, I watch people avoid looking at me as they pass. Most grimace at my goth getup; a brave few laugh. f**k them. Damien’s late. For the hundredth time since I agreed to meet him in person, I wonder if that’s his real name. I wonder what he’ll call me. I go by Brok