“You know she’s a druggie, right?” Josie huffs when I sit down and start eating.
“Who?” I shovel the last of the streusel into my mouth and dig into the coffee cake, hoping there’s enough butter and sugar in it to overcome any actual coffee taste. After the first swallow, I realize I am an idiot because the cake is gross. I take another big bite and wash the entire mess down with a chaser of Gatorade.
“Lucy Watson!”
I rear back. “Lucy? The coffee shop girl?”
“Yes. One of my sisters lived in the same dorm as her and saw her shooting up her freshman year. Right before she sat down to eat!”
I can’t help but be impressed. “That’s hardcore. You really think she’d be injecting drugs in the middle of the college cafeteria?”
“Why? Do you want some of your own?” Josie says in disgust.
Obviously my lack of dismay over Lucy’s supposed drug addiction is a sign of moral depravity. I’m okay with that. I finish the coffee cake off before answering.
“No. I get random drug tests and wouldn’t be able to play if I test positive, so no.” There are guys who smoke weed to help with the pain. We have lots of guys on Adderall, too. Painkillers are handed out like candy by the team doctors, but I’m trying to avoid those aids as long as I can. Once you go down that path, I think it’s hard not to lean on them too much. “But anyone who is so addicted to drugs that she’d shoot up in a public place can’t function like she does.”
“So you know her?”
God, what’s with the fricking inquisition? “Yeah, we’re seeing each other,” I lie. I figure Josie’s not going over to confront her about this, so my lie is about the safest one I’ve ever uttered.
Josie’s mouth drops open. “Why’d you even come tonight, if you’re already dating someone?”
Now it’s my turn to be offended. “You said it was a study group.”
“And you believed me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Hell, maybe I shouldn’t venture outside the Gas Station. It’s too complex out here. “This is college, and study groups do exist. A lot. College is to study groups as libraries are to books. They go together.”
“But you’re a football player. A starter, right?”
“So?”
“So you don’t need to study.”
“Maybe not, but that’s because I’m smart, not because I get a pass for being a football player.”
“I thought…” She trails off and looks down at her papers in frustration.
I help her out. “You thought I was a dumb jock and would be grateful for your attention?”
She purses her lips. That’s exactly what she thought. “I can share my sorority sister’s outline with you.” She shoves a set of papers toward me.
“Thanks, but I don’t really need it. All of us dumb jocks get free tutoring.”
Josie picks up her phone and presses something on the screen. She turns it around to face me. With a plastic smile, she says, “How do you like this?”
It’s a Snapchat picture of me looking at Lucy like she’s the tastiest treat in the entire place. The text overlay reads Matty Iverson can win at football, but he loses at life.
“Thanks for taking the picture from the right.” It’s apparent I should be offended, but Josie’s game is too obvious. Anyone will read that and know she’s the one who got turned down. “It’s my best side.”
She releases one of those silent screams, the kind where she swallows most of the sound but you still know she’s screaming at the top of her lungs. Her bag is packed in seconds, and she takes off in such a rush her hair slaps me across the face.
“You forgot your cider,” Lucy calls over. “You look like you could use a beer, though. We sell that, too.”
“We were just studying.”
Lucy turns to look in Josie’s general direction. “That’s an unhappy study partner you have there.”
“We had a misunderstanding. She thought this was a date and I thought it was a study group.”
“So you’re not losing at life?”
Apparently the Snapchat is spreading faster than an STD in a frat house.
“When it comes to you, apparently I am.”
She rubs a knuckle under her chin. “I get off in fifteen minutes and I need to eat something. You can join me if you want.”
I brighten. “Really?”
My obvious enthusiasm earns me a slight frown. “Don’t get any ideas. It’s not an invitation for anything but sitting across the table from me while I eat.”
This is a date even if she won’t admit it. “Do I get to eat, too, or do I just sit and watch?”
Her eyebrows squeeze together in a rather adorable way. “You had coffee cake and apple streusel.”
“I’m a bottomless pit, or so my mom tells me.” My hand falls to my stomach, and her eyes follow in a gratifying manner. Maybe I’m not striking out because the way her gaze is eating me up right now tells me she’d like a side of Matty with her meal.
“Great. Meet me out front in fifteen.” Then she spins around and goes back to bustling behind the counter. As if I’m not even here.
Or hell, maybe she’s inviting me to dinner to tell me exactly how much she doesn’t want to see me again. That would actually be a little on the crazy side, which means I should walk away, but she’s hooked me good. So good that, at this point, I’d pretty much follow her pretty ass anywhere.