Page 5

I push into the building, find the room, and slide my backpack onto the table next to Lincoln. I’ve known Lincoln since we were kids. He just transferred here for his MMA scholarship. They offered him some insane benefits if he came here to fight on our team, which is amazing for him because, to get his doctorate, he has another five years.

“Thank god we have a class together,” he says as I drop into the seat next to him. “No one tells you that starting a new school your senior year sucks.”

“They do tell you,” I say. “You just didn’t listen.”

“I listened. I just assumed with you here it would be great.”

“How’s that working out?”

He tips his head. “I found you in the first twenty minutes today. So. Above average.”

Some of the irritation leaks out of me. It’s always like this with my friends. I feel like I can just be me. It’s nice. No explaining why I don’t date.

I guess it’s not normal at our age. People would have a real field day with me if they also knew I’d never kissed anyone.

I just don’t have time.

And if I were to date, I’d have to be attracted to them. That’s just not something I’ve experienced.

I mean, objectively, I can tell when people are attractive, by how others respond to them. Lincoln is attractive. That’s a fact I’ve known since we were fifteen. People watch him. Flirt with him. Want to be in his orbit. And I know the biological indicators, too. Pupil dilation. Blushing. Licking their lips. Increased blinking. That doesn’t even account for the behavioral signs.

“You should have told me you were coming before they ran dorm assignments,” I say, lining my pens up against the edge of my notebook I pulled from my bag. If one doesn’t work, I’ll have others to use without causing a scene. “We could have roomed together.”

Lincoln’s grin slips. “I didn’t know until late. By the time it was official, they already had me in athlete housing.” He knocks my knee with his. “Who’d you get? Please say not a freshman who vapes out the window.”

“A hockey player.”

He grimaces. I know how he feels about hockey players. His step-brother is actually on the team here. And they aren’t close. I’m pretty sure they hate each other.

“A what?”

“Hockey player,” I repeat, resigned. “He’s a forward. He introduced himself by destroying a science experiment I was doing.”

“On purpose?”

“I don’t think so. He seemed distressed about it. He also offered Scout’s honor, which I have since confirmed he was never a Scout.”

Lincoln laughs. “So I got athlete housing and a dude that’s been here for a few years didn’t? How is that possible?”

I shrug. I can’t even pretend to know how housing works. I’ve always gone with random roommates.

My phone buzzes.

Christine: survived calc. Barely. Meet at the cafe at 12 or I’m eating a dry bagel in my dorm, and when I choke on it and die, you’ll be sad.

Me: French. Then yes. Don’t die.

Christine has been my best friend since freshman year when I tripped and she helped me pick up my books and scattered papers. I’ve stopped trying to explain to other people when they don’t understand why I haven’t banged her yet.

Just the thought makes me frown. I don’t want to have sex with my best friend.

Although, by every available external metric, she’s hot. I know this because guys lose basic motor function when she walks into a room or smiles at them. I have observed the phenomenon multiple times, I don’t even need to run an experiment. And I can know this information and still let her steal my fries and practice flirting on me. Not that she needs the help. I’m pretty sure she could crook her finger at someone and they would come running.

Vee and Sarah will be there if Christine has anything to say about it. They are usually where she is. They’ve been together long enough that they share everything. Clothes, calendars, hairstyles. All of it. I like them, though. They never make me perform.

Lincoln leans in to read the thread. “Is Christine still terrifying?”

“Yes. But I love her,” I say, adding absently, “She’s single right now.”