Page 72 of Maybe You

“Well, that’s bullshit,” he says.

“It is!” I say with a fervent nod. “It absolutely is. Those two were already useless when they weren’t fighting because they both just backed whatever inane idea the other came up with because how can Jill disagree with the absolute brilliance of Coopie-schmoopie-sweetiepie?”

“Is that an actual nickname that was being used? Because oof.”

“Their couple’s name is Coji,” I say.

“That’s definitely a choice. Look at it this way, if they break up at least the terrible pet names will stop,” Sutton reasons.

“Whoopie,” I say drily, and he laughs.

“How did you end up in the same group with Coji?” he asks.

“Just some shitty luck,” I say with a sigh. “And now I’m stuck with them until the end of semester. I’m just glad this project only counts for fifteen percent of the final grade because between the fucking nicknames, idiocy, and fighting, I can feel my braincells dying whenever I’m near those two.”

“Ah. Good old college days,” Sutton says.

I send a curious look his way.

“Did you go to college?” I ask and then roll my eyes. “Well you have money, so that’s probably a stupid question, right? Let me rephrase. Where did you go to college?”

“The Holland family has a longstanding tradition of attending Harvard,” he says.

“Of course you do.”

“So I made sure I stayed far, far away from that place,” he continues, and he does it with this flippant air that only underlines how different the two of us really are. He’s someone who can look at Harvard and go, “Harvard? Pfft. No, thanks. Pass.”

“Did you not stay far away from some other place?” I ask.

I have to wait a bit while he debates the merits of bestowing this national level secret on me.

“UCLA,” he finally says.

“Really?” I ask. “What did you study?”

This pause is even longer.

“Guess,” he then says.

I let my eyes wander up and down him and purse my lips.

“Business?”

“I wouldn’t be that predictable.”

“Finance?”

“Terrible. You get one more guess, so make it count.”

I widen my hands. “I don’t know. Law?”

“Wrong again. I’m afraid you’ve flunked out of the game.”

“Uh-huh. I’m devastated. So what did you study?”

“History,” he says.

I did not expect that.

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