Page 29 of The Fake
“Business Ethics with Professor Penn?”
When she confirms it, I laugh. “She’s nuts, but at least you won’t fall asleep in her class.”
“She brought a bundle of tacos to class this morning and ate every single one while lecturing. Lettuce and beef were spewing as she talked. I may never eat tacos again.”
I nod and lead us to University Hall, holding the door for her to go first. “At least it wasn’t fish tacos.”
Her eyes go wide. “Nooo?”
“Oh, yes. I had her last year.” I shudder at the memory.
There’s a short line at the café, but I sigh in relief when I spot Katrina working behind the counter. She always gives me her employee discount. Joel’s girlfriend greets me and Chloe with a big smile when it’s our turn.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” she asks me and then her eyes move over to Chloe.
“Katrina, this is Chloe. Chloe, this is my buddy Joel’s girlfriend.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Same,” Katrina says. “What can I get you guys?”
Chloe looks over the menu, which isn’t all that extensive. Coffee, muffins, and the usual breakfast pastries. “Can I get a bran muffin and a small coffee?”
“Cream or sugar?”
Chloe shakes her head and then Katrina looks to me. “I’m good. Just the muffin and coffee.”
I pull out my wallet.
“You’re not eating?” Chloe asks, confusion marring her features.
“I don’t do breakfast.” Which is true but mostly out of necessity. When Wes and Zeke were living at The White House, we took turns making breakfast before early practices, but now Joel spends more nights than not at Katrina’s and the routine has sort of faded away. Cooking isn’t really my jam. Even toast is a fire hazard.
“I got it.” Chloe moves to open her bag, presumably to grab her money.
I wave her off with the cash in my hand. “It’s on me.”
This is one of those awkward things that I wish didn’t stress me out. I want to buy the girl a muffin and coffee and still be able to afford to have dinner tonight. But I’ll gladly eat Ramen for the third night in a row for her.
Katrina rings us up, and I pay. She hands Chloe the coffee and a to-go bag with the muffin and then hands me a much heavier bag. “It’s for later,” she says casually. “I know you boys never eat unless it’s hand-delivered by Joel’s mom.”
I force a chuckle and mumble my thanks, embarrassed at the handout, but thankful nonetheless, and shove the bag in my backpack.
At an unhurried pace, Chloe and I walk toward Moreno Hall. Her hair has mostly dried now and the blonde strands are wavy, framing her face and falling down her back. She’s a beautiful girl. Casual suits her, I think. Those silver strappy shoes that cost more than I can fathom were hot as fuck, but she seems so much more accessible now. The Chloe of last night is squarely out of my league. This Chloe, however, I might stand a chance with.
“What’s your schedule like this afternoon?”
She swallows a bite of her muffin before she responds, “This is my last class of the day, then practice and studying in the library. You?”
“Econ at one. Lifting at two.”
She repeats it like she’s trying to memorize my details in case she’s quizzed. “I just realized I don’t know anything about your classes or practice schedule… What do I say if someone asks me where you are?”
Her vulnerability makes my chest tighten. I highly doubt someone is going to ask her my whereabouts at any given moment, but I take her hand and squeeze reassuringly. “Tell them you’re not my keeper.” She rolls her eyes. “I have my phone on me, text if you need anything. And if all else fails, do what I do.”
“What’s that?”
“Bullshit ‘em.”
