Page 27 of The Play

Hunter chews on his bottom lip for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” I can’t control a burst of laughter. “His name is Pax Ling.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he told me it was Jax. We must be talking about different dudes.”

This guy’s unreal.

TJ gives a soft snicker. Apparently even he isn’t immune to Hunter’s weird appeal.

Andrews commences the morning’s lecture, which is an overview of personality disorders. Excellent. I’m happy we’re starting off with PDs. I’m still trying to diagnose my fictional patient, and based on the notes I made during our first session I suspect I’m dealing with a personality issue.

He could be a sociopath, but the characteristic apathy was missing. Antisocial or narcissistic personality disorders are still on the table, and maybe borderline too, although Hunter hadn’t described any mood swings or impulsive behavior, unless you count adultery. But his fake cheating came off as incredibly calculated and not at all impulsive. Hopefully he gives me more to work with in our next session.

Halfway through class, my phone vibrates.

PAX: Partied too hard last night and overslept. Take notes for me!

My nosy seatmate Hunter peers over my shoulder. “Is that Jax?”

“No, it’s Pax.”

“Agree to disagree.”

I fight a smile and turn my attention back to Professor Andrews. She’s discussing a case involving antisocial personality disorder she once encountered and how she reached the diagnosis. I’m obsessed with this course.

After class, TJ links an arm through mine and says, “Want to grab a quick coffee?”

“Actually”—I glance at Hunter—“maybe we could work on the project for a bit? I’m not meeting Nico till one thirty.”

He shrugs. “Sure, let’s do it. I’m done for the day.”

“Rain check on that coffee,” I assure TJ, giving his arm a squeeze.

“No prob. Text me later.”

As TJ ambles off, Hunter stares after him, shaking his head ruefully. “Poor guy.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, poor guy. He’s got a major crush on you, but he’s so deep in the friend zone it’d take the same rescue team that dug out the Chilean miners to save him. And even then I think they’d fail.”

“He doesn’t have a crush on me,” I insist. What is everyone seeing that I’m not? “I’ve had a boyfriend for as long as I’ve known him.”

“So? I’ve had crushes on lots of chicks with boyfriends. My dick doesn’t discriminate.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” I say dryly.

“What does that mean?” he mimics.

“It means in the one measly week I’ve known you, you already hooked up with three different women. Congrats, your penis must be extremely pleased.”

“Oh, trust me, my penis is nowhere close to pleased.” He runs a hand through his dark hair. “You want to go to your house?”

“Why don’t we find a nice spot on the quad?” I suggest. “It’s such a gorgeous day.”

“Lead the way, Semi.”

We follow the wide stone path toward one of the many manicured lawns that make up Briar’s campus. We’re not the only ones taking advantage of the warm weather. There are several picnics in progress, a soccer ball being kicked around, and a game of Frisbee being played in the distance.

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