Don't bust his balls TOO much.

“Can I help you?” you ask, suppressing a smirk as you do your best to look annoyed. It’s not that hard, given how impatient Alex was being earlier, but it is funny watching the gears turn as he tries to figure out what to say. ‘I mean, he needs an explanation AND something that won’t ruin his chances of screwing you,’ you think, amused by the clear panic.

“I … I was here looking for John?” He’s the farthest thing from confident, and you crack, grinning openly and giggling.

“Oh my God, the look on your face!” you laugh. “Dude, I KNOW you’ve had a girlfriend before, you can’t be this bad at talking to ladies.”

“Hey, I’m not … I wasn’t expecting … how do you know anything about who I’ve dated?” Confidence starts to rise up a little with his indignity.

“Because we’re friends. It’s me, John.” You punctuate this with a little wave to him. Of course, he doesn’t process that quickly. Which is fair. You wouldn’t, either. “Yeah, I know.”

“You’re a girl,” he states flatly, clearly trying to keep an open mind here.

“Apparently. And I can’t get pregnant or I’ll be stuck like this.” You’re surprised both at how casually it comes out and how accepting he seems to be about it.

“That’s bad. You’re way too young to be a dad … mom … parent. I should be asking for proof, right?”

“Only definitely,” you answer, “but I know you keep your weed under your passenger side car seat so your dad won’t find it, and I know that the dumbest thing you’ve ever done is try to masturbate with hot sauce.”

“… so … do we fix it, or what?” he asks, gesturing to your body.