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“More like annoying,” Maeve corrects.
“I’m Lucy.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Rogan, the best of the O’Rourke bunch.”
“Have a seat,” I say.
“Thanks.” He smirks at Maeve, then lowers into a wide chair across from us. His thighs spread as he gets comfortable.
“Now you’ve done it,” Maeve warns me.
“Help yourself to some dip,” I offer.
“No, not the dip,” Maeve whines, slapping at his hand when he reaches for a pita chip.
“Rogan, I have high standards for who makes my friends list. What makes you think you’d qualify?” I ask.
“I’m handy.”
Maeve snickers. “I think he meant to say handsy.”
Rogan shrugs. “I’m whatever the situation calls for.”
I roll my lips inward, pressing them together to hold back my smile. Out of solidarity for my new friend, I’m trying to mess with him a little. But he’s so comfortable in his skin. He’s adorably cocky, like only a young man can be when life hasn’t kicked him in the nuts yet.
“Are you a student?” I ask.
“Yes. I’m a sophomore at Stonewood University.”
“What’s your major?” I ask.
“Sleeping with coeds,” Maeve pipes in.
Rogan points at her. “That’s my minor. My major is electrical engineering.”
“That’s impressive,” I say.
One side of his lips curves upward in a half smile that would make my knees weak if I were fifteen years younger. “I’m more than a pretty face,” he says.
“Do you play hockey?” I ask.
He screws his face up, as if my question is repulsive. “I play America’s sport,” he says.
“Ah, baseball,” I tease.
“Hell no. I play football.”
I laugh. “I’m just messing with you. Football happens to be my favorite sport to watch.”
“You should see me play. You’d have a new appreciation for it.”
I shake my head. “Sorry, I don’t follow college ball.”
A sputtering sound slips from his lips. “That’s unimaginable. Why wouldn’t you watch collegeandpro ball if you're a football fan?”
“Rogan, she doesn’t need to justify her choices to you,” Maeve defends me.
I hold up a hand. “It’s okay. I like to watchmenplay, not school boys.”
