Page 44 of Patrick

I don’t know.

Ricci waves to me like she thinks I’m clueless about finding her, which I’m not because she’s sitting at our usual lunch table. I wander through the crowd at Philly as the place fills up because, of course, we’re eating at the most popular time. Ricci insists on maxing the being-seen factor and mingling with as many people as she can.

Good luck tearing them away from their phones.

“You’re early,” she says when I reach the table where she sits with Nina, both outfitted in bright colors so they look like an island of peacocks in a sea of somber gray fish. And yes, our table is dead center in this cafeteria-charading-as-a-café.

My watch pings, and I jump like it just electrocuted me.

Ricci laughs. “What’s with you? Waiting for a text from your guy?”

A quick glance tells me it’s not him. It’s some Apple news flash about something I don’t care about—as usual.

“I’m fine. It’s not Trick. He’s got a team lunch or meeting or something or other.”

Nina smirks. “Wow, you know his schedule.”

“Remind me why I’m your friend?” I’m trying not to laugh, mostly at myself, because this conversation feels so junior high. I pull the tray of food in front of me. I know Nina got it for me because there are no pickles, and she always remembers I don’t like them.

“I know it was a rhetorical question,” Ricci says, popping a fry in her glossy red-lipped mouth, “but the answer is because we’re the only ones cool enough to put up with your beauty queen persona.”

I laugh. “I’m a fashionista, not a beauty queen. There’s a difference.”

She waves a hand. “Not when said fashionista looks like you.”

Nina leans in. “She’s right—and you know what’s amazing about you? You don’t even know what you look like.”

“Sure I do. I’m a young coed like all of us, and we’re all beautiful. Have you two looked in a mirror lately?” I reach my hands out to either side of me and cover theirs. “You are both gorgeous, fun, and smart. I’m just trying to keep up.”

Ricci rolls her eyes, but I notice the hint of a pleased smile. “You’re right. We’re all stunning.”

Nina grins, her cheeks pink. “It must be true because a cute guy in Marketing class hit on me this morning.”

“In the morning? Must be serious,” Ricci says, tongue-in-cheek.

I lift the burger to my mouth and take a bite when my watch pings again. Panicking, I drop the burger, and against my determination to ditch the junior high act, I quickly check my watch. No text. It’s an IG post by Darcy—a pic of her posing in some avant-garde outfit—mostly ripped clothing.

“Gees, get over it, Sof,” Nina says. “I’ve never seen any guy make you act this way. What does Trick have up his sleeve to make you like this?”

Ricci squeals. “You mean what does he have up his pants, don’t you?”

Nina giggles. “You’re right. What was I thinking?”

Ricci leans in close like she’s about to impart a secret while I try to regain my dignity. “Tell us—is his dick really⁠—”

“Ricci—stop it. No more about Trick. I’m here with you girls now, and I’m going to behave like an adult.” I slip the watch off my wrist and toss it in my bag, feeling only a small twitch of anxiety in my chest; I push through it.

“There.” I take in a cleansing breath as if to rid myself of Trick’s scent or whatever it is that has me so deep under his spell. “I’m back. Sorry for being so pathetic.”

“The game against BC is going to be crazy,” Nina says.

“I know,” I say, biting my lip. “But I won’t be sitting with you guys. My parents are coming to the game to see Vincent play, and I have to sit with them.”

“Tough assignment… although Vincent is a hottie, so I wouldn’t mind rooting for him—if you get what I mean.”

I roll my eyes. “Ricci, don’t be disgusting.”

Nina says, “Me and Eva are making posters to get on the Wildcat-cam.”