Page 7 of The Play

I notice several uneasy glances being exchanged throughout the lecture hall. I guess it’s a red flag when a prof uses the word “fun.” But I’m not concerned. Everything she’s described so far sounds interesting.

“You know that old childhood game—playing doctor?” Professor Andrews grins at the room. “That’s the gist of this research project. One partner will play the role of the psychologist; the other will be the patient. The former will be provided with diagnostic tools in order to make an assessment and write a detailed case study. The latter will be assigned a psychological disorder that they’ll be required to research and, for lack of a better word, play-act for the doctor.”

“I love it,” Pax says to me. “Please,pleaselet me play the patient.”

“Why do you assume you’re partnering with Demi?” TJ objects.

“Boys, there’s plenty of me to go around.”

But Andrews throws us for a loop. “I’m assigning partners based on this alphabetized class list.” She holds up some sheets of paper. “When you hear your names, raise your hands so you know who you’re working with. All right, let’s start—Ames and Ardin.”

Two arms go up. A girl with bright purple hair, and a girl wearing a Patriots cap.

“Axelrod and Bailey.”

There are about a hundred people in the class, but Andrews isefficient. She whizzes through names at a fast clip, and we reach the D’s in no time.

“Davenport and Davis.”

I raise my hand at the same time as Hunter. He shifts his gaze toward me, quirking his mouth in a half-smile.

Next to me, TJ sighs unhappily. He leans in to whisper, “Do you want me to legally change my last name to Davidson to save you from the hockey asshole?”

I grin at him. “It’s okay, I’ll survive.”

“Grey and Guthrie,” Andrews is saying.

“Are you sure?” TJ presses. “I bet you can switch partners if you said something.”

“Killington and Ladde.”

“Babe, it’s fine. I don’t even know the guy,” I say. “You’re the one who doesn’t like him.”

“I love him,” Pax bemoans. “Iwant to play doctor with him.”

But then Andrews calls out, “Lawson and Ling,” and Pax brightens up when his partner raises a hand. It’s a guy with wavy brown hair and a killer jawline.

“He’ll do,” murmurs Pax, and I swallow a laugh.

“These packages,” Andrews says, gesturing to the stacks of orange manila envelopes on her desk, “contain detailed instructions about the assignment. One partner, please remember to grab one after the lecture. It’ll be up to each team to decide who assumes which role.”

Hunter twists around and gives me a finger gun, I assume to tell me I’m on envelope duty.

I roll my eyes. Already making me do all the work, I see.

Once everyone’s assigned a partner, Andrews resumes the lecture, and I take so many notes my wrist starts to ache. Shit, I’ll need to bring my laptop next time. I usually prefer writing notes by hand, but there’s a lot of material to unpack and she covers so much in such a short time.

After we’re dismissed, I head to the front of the room to grab a manila envelope. It’s got some heft to it. That might alarm some people, but I’m looking forward to this project. It sounds fun and comprehensive, even if I am paired with a jock.

Speaking of the jock, he wanders toward me, hiking his backpack over one broad shoulder. “Davis,” he greets me.

“Davenport.”

“Call me Hunter.” His gaze does a slow sweep of me from head to toe. It lingers a little too long on my bare legs, still nice and tanned from a summer spent in Miami.

“I’m Demi.” I notice TJ and Pax standing near the exit, waiting for me to finish up.

“Demi…” he says absently. He’s still checking out my legs, and he visibly gulps before wrenching his gaze back to mine.

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