Sirius doesn't talk to him at all Wednesday. Remus notices it, but says nothing. Peter notices it, but says too much. Sirius doesn't talk to him at all, no, but James is sure he did talk to someone when the bloke waltzes into the loo behind him.
"Well, well, Potter. If we continue meeting like this–"
"Yeah, well, I was about to say the same thing about you."
James zips up his trousers and leans against the sink. He folds his arms and eyes the bloke. He sees the Slytherin's lips, and he gets hard. Gets hard so fast, his mind spins.
The Slytherin gives a lopsided grin.
"You look like shit, Potter."
"I feel like shit, Max."
The bloke's eyebrow quirks. He walks forward and leans in, his arms folded.
"You know my name."
"Your nickname."
"Who told you my name?"
The bloke is so close James can feel the warmth of his breath. He remembers that breath over his skin. He licks his lips.
"Black, told me."
"Older one, right?"
"Of course."
Max nods thoughtfully. His gaze wanders to the mirror behind James. He clicks his tongue.
"Are you free Saturday–"
"Same time?" James blurts eagerly.
A smirk catches the Slytherin's lip.
"Same time, same place."
-
The "Why don't you ask a girl out?" remains unsaid. But James can sense it on the bloke's tongue. He isn't sure what he would've said had he asked. He doesn't have an answer.
Ugh. Best not think about the bloke's tongue.