Zach was smiling just a little as he faded back to where he was now, listening to half-whispered words which were just loud enough to rise above the air conditioner.
When had it turned back on?
Mmm, didn’t matter. It was cold…
By now he’d learned to think past the uneasy silence which followed their rushed or not-so-rushed encounters, and presently sat on the table with nothing on his groggy mind except whether or not to hit the bathroom, and how to do so without arousing suspicion. He was surprised when Gentry spoke first,
“I like smelling you.”
Zach cast him a look from accross the room, because really, what could you say to something like that? Gentry looked back, then shrugged aimlessly; as if he didn’t know why he had said it either. He returned to shuffling about the room, picking up pieces of discarded clothing. Zach eyed the "evidence" on the table, and peevishly wiped some of it off "Wuthering Heights." Gross.
“Doesn’t it ever disturb you that people are going to be using this table after us?” he awkwardly grumbled, to which Gentry replied:
“It didn’t disturb you a few minutes ago.”
Zach sighed since the conversation was going nowhere fast, and tiredly began the search for his left sock.
“I have a bed, you know. It might be nice not to worry about people coming in.”
“Except your mom.”
Gentry held up the sock, and Zach snatched it away.