Saturdays are for the boys.
Logan didn't have ideas very often, but I can still remember how his eyes lit up, the way his lips curved into a megawatt smile when he said:
"Bro…what if we hung out, like, every weekend? Just you n' me?"
Another week had passed, and another "day of the dudes" dawned. Logan popped open the passenger door of his car, quickly tossing a tub of protein powder behind him.
"Ah, sorry, dude! I know you're, like, a totally neat freak, huhu. Just, uh…don't look in the back seat."
I waved it off as I twisted myself around a few tubs buried in the footwell. "It's fine. Do I want to know?"
"Free samples…gotta sponsorship deal. Whaddya think?"
"Oh, damn! That's great, man."
"Yeah, huhu?" The megawatt smile flashed again.
"Can I ask you something?"
He nodded.
"Why do you care what I think? I mean, you ask for my opinion on a lot of…stuff. Like what you should wear…"
"Uh…"
"And what exercises you should do…"
"Right, yeah…"
"But like, come on! You really want fashion and workout tips from me?"
"I…uh…"
"Sorry. I didn't mean to interrogate you. It's just…been on my mind."
"What's…that...word mean?"
"Interrogate?"
"Yeah, you're, like, asking me all these questions, dude!" He laughed. "Don't make me think…kinda distractin' while I'm tryna drive n' shit…"
"That's what it means."
"What what means?"
"Interrogation. It means asking questions."
"Oh…gotcha. So…"
"It's okay."
"No…it's cool. I wanna answer. Uh…how…words…" The car slowed to stop at a red light, and Logan turned to me.
"I…don't like havin' to make decisions. That shit's hard, y'know? Like my whole life, parents, coaches, whoever. I just had somebody tellin' me what to do. Go to class. Get to practice. Put your uniform on. Whatever. So…I'm just…used to it." He inhaled. "I can throw on some shorts, or bang out a set, no prob. But when somebody tells me to do that? I like it. And when that somebody's you, bro? Fuck…I like that a lot."
The light changed, and he turned away from me.
"Oh. Oh."
"Yeah," he said, eyes locked on the road. "Yeah."
The rest of the drive was silent until he parked and looked back at me, arm draped over the center console, fingers dangling above my thigh.
"Whatchu thinkin'?"
"I think…I like that, too. I like it a lot," I said. "I like it when you listen..."
"I was hopin' you'd say that, bro. It's kinda…"
"Kinky?"
He blushed. "Uh…it don't gotta be. But, uh...it can be? Do you wanna…?"
"Saturdays," I smiled, "are for the boys."











