Check, Please (Book #2)

Twenty-Three.

I held two pre-packaged meals in my hands, trying to decide if I wanted to eat Moroccan couscous or a suspiciously bright chicken curry for lunch. The choice seemed impossible to make until my phone buzzed and I instinctively set down the couscous so that I could answer it.

Curry it is, I thought, unlocking my phone with my thumb. Skimming the preview of the incoming text message, I maneuvered through the crowded cafeteria until I reached the line to pay. A group of Gamma Gammas stood giggling in front of me and I recognized one of the dark-haired girls as having gone out with Carlos the year before. She offered a small smile but didn't say hello before turning back to her friends. I didn't take the snub personally; in fact, I was relieved. The only thing worse than making small talk was making small talk with a friend's ex.

I returned my attention to Mattie's text. Date dash tonight, the message read. Buses leave at 9:45, so be in the foyer by 9:30. The theme is Jock Jams - 80s workout clothes and sports jerseys, no Speedos or jockstraps. Remember: if you or your date throw up, you both go home.

I groaned inwardly. I'd been at the exec meeting when tonight's date dash had been put on the calendar, yet somehow I'd completely forgotten that it was coming up. Then again, we scheduled so many of our frat's events in early September that I couldn't understand how any of us were expected to keep track of anything. When I reached the register, I handed the cashier my student I.D. and watched her charge the cost of my meal to my dining account. Even though I ate at the house most of the time, there were times when it was more convenient to stay on campus until I'd finished my classes for the day. I thanked the woman before walking off, and then scanned the campus center's massive dining hall in an attempt to locate Gemma.

Going to lunch had been her idea, surprisingly enough, though neither of us had seemed very excited when we met next to the fountain outside. Things had been tense between us since the football game, in part because our team had enjoyed the biggest comeback in a decade. I'd refused to believe it when I heard the news and I was still bitter that I'd missed seeing it live. Scoring forty points during a game was an anomaly for our team; scoring forty points in two quarters was, as our school newspaper described it, about as statistically likely as catching a unicorn. It didn't happen.

Of course, the fact that Gemma didn't care about sports meant that she didn't understand my frustration. "You don't even like our football team," she'd pointed out, and even though she was right, that didn't mean I wasn't excited by the idea of being in the stadium when ten thousand students stormed the field. I squinted, debating whether or not I'd finally spotted her in the sea of students who were sitting down for lunch. She was wearing a yellow dress, I knew that much, but that must have been the color of the day because it felt like every other girl was wearing the same shade.

"Scott," I heard Gemma's voice call out, and I turned in a small circle while I continued to look for her. Her hand shot up in the air with a little wave. Finally knowing where to go, I moved through the crowd until I reached the corner table that she'd saved.

As I sat down, I noticed that Gemma had already finished most of her meal. The wrapper from her sandwich lay crumpled beside a half-eaten bag of potato chips. Gemma pushed the bag towards me, but I frowned, annoyed that she hadn't waited for me to come back before she started eating. I must have made a face because Gemma asked, "What?"

"Nothing," I lied, peeling back the lid on my container of curry. I speared a piece of chicken with my fork and watched droplets of orange sauce roll down the plastic tines. "The frat's throwing a date dash tonight."

Gemma reached for her water bottle and placed its mouth against her bottom lip. "So?"

I chewed my mouthful of food slowly, wondering if there was any point in asking her the question that obviously followed. "So, do you want to go?"