Page 5 of Kicking It with the Point Guard

I can’t hold it against him for bringing it up. It was four years ago; I should be over it by now.

“Anyway,” he says. “You met a girl? What’s her name?”

“I don’t know.” I take a bite of my pizza.

Oscar scoffs.

“Did you not ask? What am I saying? Of course, you didn’t.” He slaps his palm against his forehead. “What was she like?”

“Short, blonde, and angry. She was cute."

“Oohh… Did you have a secret rendezvous in the stacks?”

“Don't be an idiot. She let me sleep while she studied." I snort."Then she lied to me and ran out."

“What do you mean, she lied to you?” he asks, instantly suspicious.

“She said that she was doing 'advanced math.' But she was using the College Algebra textbook.”

Oscar laughs.

“She didn’t hit on you?”

“She couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”

“Well, she sounds hilarious. I like her already,” my best friend says, leaning back in his chair.

I look off into the distance, hiding my smile behind my hand. He’d like her even more if he met her. But that’s not likely to happen.

Oscar carries the conversation for the rest of lunch, and by the time I’m done eating, it’s time for my next class. I throw my trash away and follow Oscar out of the cafeteria.

I catch a glimpse of blond in the sea of students and hide my smile. Those plays will have to wait until later. I might be making a habit out of studying in the library for the foreseeable future.

Violet

Mia couldn’t grab lunch with me, so I grabbed a sad pre-made sandwich, a salad, and a bottle of water from the to-go line before finding a seat in the crowded cafeteria.

I need to calm down and get my thoughts in order. The important thing is figuring out this math crap. With Dr. Herrington’s help, I’ll pass that stupid class and then I’ll be done with math forever! Then next semester, I can focus on graduating!

You don’t have to do much math as an English education major. So far, I’ve gotten to hang out with some cool kids and help their teachers out in the classrooms. Not to mention learning the theories and other junk about pedagogy. But you know what I haven’t had to do?

Math.

I guess that’s just another reason that I’m doing so poorly in my algebra class.

I’m just finishing my sad excuse for a sandwich when a booming laugh sounds behind me.

I peek over my shoulder, then whip my head back around. The hot guy from the library is sitting with another giant dude.

First, where are all these giants coming from? It hits me that when I grabbed my phone from Library Hottie, I had to look up to see his face. Second, how did I not notice they were there when I sat down?

Mentally facepalming myself, I hunch my shoulders and try to be as unnoticeable as I can while I finish my lunch.

Now that I’m aware of who’s behind me, eavesdropping on their conversation is easy. Not that I want to. In fact, I’m actively trying to avoid eavesdropping, but they aren’t making it easy.

The big one with my library hottie is talking excitedly about hockey—there’s a game coming up—and how he and his friends are going to go to a club on Thursday for some guy named Fraser’s birthday. Which he’s not particularly looking forward to, but team bonding and all that.

While he’s blabbering on, I quietly gather my stuff and make my way to the trash. It’s almost time for my only other class today. After that, I’ve got to try to figure out where I went wrong with my math problems earlier.

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