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“Yeah,” Jake said. “He was just in a mood. He’ll probably make afternoon classes.”
“Oh. I texted him, but he hasn’t texted back.”
“Maybe he’s sleeping,” Coop suggested.
Maybe. I sighed. Bubba pulled into the parking lot of the sub place at the same time we did, and I stared.
Bubba had a motorcycle.
Since when? With my wallet in my pocket, I left the backpack in the car. “Bubba! Where did that come from?”
He went from a glare at Jake to a sheepish look at me. “It was supposed to be a surprise. That’s why I asked you to lunch.”
“You wanted me to ride on it with you?” I studied the bike. It was beautiful, black with blue detailing and a wide seat. I didn’t know anything about bikes. “I’ve never ridden one.”
“Well, then it’s a date,” Bubba told me. “I’ll follow you home tomorrow, then give you a ride to my place. You can take your first ride on the way back to school, too, if you want.”
“Your place?” Jake asked, his tone—different. “Why are you two going to Bubba’s place?”
“Calculus,” Bubba answered without missing a beat. We had to work on his music selection, and we had lists to compare, but he wasn’t telling the guys, so I kept his secret.
“Pretty much,” I told Jake. “Sorry, I’d invite you, but you maxed your math credits.”
He’d lucked out on the math credits.
“Yeah, lucky me,” he said pushing away from his SUV. “Let’s eat.”
After the initial weirdness, the guys seemed to calm down while we ordered our sandwiches, but no sooner did we sit than Jake eyed me from his seat right across the table. “So, who’s Matthew?”
“Subtle,” I told him.
“Wasn’t trying to be. Coop tells me there’s some dude we don’t know at your house in the middle of the night, so I get curious. Who’s Matthew?”
“Leave her alone,” Coop told him, his tone less relaxed and more brisk. He’d snared the seat next to mine, leaving Bubba to sit next to Jake.
“What?” Jake glared at him. “I don’t know who the guy is.”
Rather than endure a round of arguing, I nudged Coop’s foot with mine. It was sweet he was being protective, but I could handle Jake. Mostly. “He’s a foreign exchange student, so immune from your little memo.” Okay, that was a wee bit petty. “He’s also in my French class. He’s sweet. I like him.”
“Sweet,” Jake repeated. “Huh.”
“Sweet,” I confirmed, then took a bite of my chips as I thought about the kiss he’d given me the night before.Definitely sweet.
“Why was he at your place so late? And why did you have to take him home?” Were they not going to let this go?
“He seemed like an okay guy,” Bubba said, idly. “Nothing special, but okay.”
Jake twisted in his seat. “When didyoumeet him?”
“Walked Frankie to French,” Bubba told him, then took a big bite of his sandwich looking enormously pleased with himself. “He speaks pretty good French, too.”
“It helps that heisFrench,” I reminded Bubba. “And before you guys get too crazy, I’m going to have lunch with him tomorrow.”
“Where?” Jake asked.
“If I tell you, are you going to show up?”
“Worried your new guy can’t handle us?” Jake retaliated.
