Page 25 of The Play

“Am Isure? I’ve got a zit on my forehead and haven’t washed my hair in four days, because I wasn’t planning on meetingAdonistonight. Come on, Demi, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

I snicker and text Hunter back.

ME: Maybe another night.

He responds with,Okey dokey, and the gray dots disappear.

“Coward,” I tease Pippa.

“Whatever. You can’t throw something like that on me at the last second. I’m not mentally prepared to hook up tonight.”

I hadn’t realized mental preparation was required for casual hook-ups, but I suppose I’m clueless when it comes to modern dating. And I’m perfectly okay with that. Look at what’s happening around me—Hunter juggling different girls, Pippa squirming nervously at the notion of being introduced to a hot guy. Dating seems insanely stressful.

Relationships, meanwhile, are nice and secure. The world of relationships is where I belong.

I link my fingers through Nico’s and thank my lucky stars that I’m not part of that other, terrifying world.

8

DEMI

NICO WALKS ME TO CLASS ONMONDAY MORNING.HE’Dspent the night, and I feel like we’re back on track again as we stroll hand-in-hand down one of the many walkways that weave through Briar. Although the weather hasn’t turned yet, the colors on campus are slowly beginning to change. I admire the massive trees that line the paths and dot the lawns, marveling at how pretty and quaint everything is. Sometimes it feels surreal. I lived in Miami until I was fifteen years old, so I’m accustomed to palm trees and colorful beach houses, not stately oaks and ancient buildings.

I remember putting up a huge stink when I found out we were moving to Massachusetts. My father had been offered a position at a prestigious hospital in Boston. Head of neurosurgery. Which is a HUGE DEAL. But I was a bratty, entitled teenager, and therefore I wasn’t having it.

Dad, however, doesn’t tolerate temper tantrums. Or rather, he lets me stomp and yell and bitch…and then offers a wry smile and pleasantly asks,Are you done? Because we all know he’s going to get his way at the end of the day. He does the same thing with my mother. Mom personifies the stereotype of feisty Latina, complete with a generations-old family hot sauce recipe and a temper that’s even more explosive than mine. But even Mom can’t win against my father.

After my family moved to Boston, Nico and I endured three years of long distance, summers and holidays. And after graduation, I got into Briar and prayed to the lord above that Nico would too. I was secretly worried for a while there. He’s not stupid, but Briar is a highly competitive Ivy League school, and Nico didn’t have a basketball scholarship or any impressive extra-curriculars to bring to the table. He got good grades, but he wasn’t the valedictorian of his class.

In the end, I think it was his admissions essay that won over the board. He wrote about his arduous journey from Cuba to America. Nico’s father Joaquín had arrived in Miami ahead of his wife and son to work and get settled. Joaquín couldn’t afford a flight to bring the family over, so Nico and his mom ended up traveling by boat. Which sank. No joke. They were adrift on a life raft for two days before a fishing vessel found them and brought them to safety. Eventually they became citizens, and Nico’s sister Alicia was born in Florida.

His pride for this country definitely shone through in his essay. I proofed it for him. And when he received his admissions letter from Briar, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

As we near the Faculty of Sciences building, I spot a familiar figure—Hunter, and he’s with a stunning blonde.

With the temperature in the mid-eighties today, Hunter’s companion is in a crop top and a filmy white skirt, her golden hair up in a topknot. She’s as pretty if not more so than the brunette he was grinding up against the other night, as well as the cute girl who made him lunch. Lord. Mr. Popular only gets more popular.

I have no idea how he keeps track of all these chicks—three different ones in a week? I mean, good on him, but boy does it seem exhausting.

I lift my hand in a wave. Hunter waves back before saying something to the blonde.

“That’s the hockey guy,” I tell Nico. “Hunter.”

Nico follows my gaze. “He does look very jocky.”

I feel my pocket vibrate, and slide my phone out to read the incoming text.

TJ: Already inside. See u when u get here.

“Do you want to meet for lunch later?” Nico asks.

“Sure. Can we go to the dining hall in the Drama building? Pippa says they just started serving tacos.”

He sighs.

“Did you hear me, babe? Tacos!” I don’t understand why I’m the only one excited about this.

As we finalize our lunch plans, Hunter wanders over to us. “Morning,” he says easily.

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