Page 42 of Ruthless Court

She waits.

I look at my reflection.

My oversized glasses. My bare legs. The sweater slipping low over one shoulder.

“I don’t know. I’ve never spent much time thinking about guys.”

Jules snorts.

“You could say that.”

“I’ve been busy studying.”

That part is true.

What I leave out is what I studied the most.

Basketball.

Plays. Spacing. Form. Movement. Film. Every adjustment my father made and every one he missed.

I could write a thesis on the game without opening a book.

Instead, I came to Stanford to study anything else.

Piper claps her hands once.

“Then tonight is educational.”

“How?”

“We’re studying male behavior in its natural habitat.”

“That habitat being a private party we’re sneaking into.”

“Field research.”

They begin drinking before we leave.

Piper has miniature bottles hidden inside a toiletry bag. Jules produces canned cocktails from beneath her bed. Kenzie pours something pink into a metal water bottle and refuses to tell me what it is.

By the time we reach the parking lot, they are loud enough to make our cover story impossible.

Piper hands me her keys.

“You’re driving.”

“I thought that was already decided.”

“You’re the responsible one.”

“You’ve known me since lunchtime.”

“And look how much we’ve learned.”

Her car is a white convertible that smells new and has more buttons than my laptop.

I adjust the mirrors while the three of them debate our imaginary sport.