“You’re still here,” Coop said.
“Yes. I live here.” Rafe plunked his basket on his desk and rummaged for an outfit in his closet. His clothes were more tangled than the wires behind a television set. “You slept in.”
“I’m not allowed to sleep late?” Coop unplugged his phone from the charger.
“It’s almost one.”
That it was. 12:53. Last night had really taken a lot out of him. All the walking, and other things.
“Did you eat lunch yet?” Coop’s stomach rumbled just imagining the dining hall. Rafe got dressed behind the desk, whose hutch gave much-needed privacy in a shared room.
“No. I was going to head down.”
“I’ll join you.” Coop stepped off his bed, right into a pair of soggy underpants. They sat atop a pile of the rest of his clothes from last night. He flashed back to swimming in the pool, before he ruined the moment.Demolished the moment.
Coop wiped his foot off on his bedspread. Rafe came around the desk wearing blue shorts and a white Browerton T-shirt, along with blue-and-white striped microsocks. He sat on his bed and put on his shoes.
“This is perfect, actually,” Rafe said. “Us having lunch together.”
“Why?”
“Because I met this guy at that party last night, that party where you ditched me by the way but I’m not mad just pointing out a fact. Anyway, we’re going to have lunch in the dining hall, and I got a little drunk last night and can’t remember if I find him cute or not. I need to see if it’s the beer goggles.”
Coop brushed his clothes from last night under the bed. He would deal with them later. “Why do you need me?”
“Well, if it was the beer goggles, at least I’ll have you to talk with. If it’s really bad, I may need you to fake an allergy attack so I can bring you to the infirmary.”
Coop gave him a thumbs up. “That’s what friends are for.”
* * *
It was the beer goggles.
Not that the guy was supremely ugly. But his personality was practically non-existent. He said all of seven words at lunch so far, and they were almost done eating.
“So did you guys dance with any mannequins last night?” Coop asked Rafe and Mr. No Personality. He dug into his fried rice, as he realized he hadn’t eaten in almost a day.
Rafe waited for his soulmate-of-the-week to answer.
Mr. No Personality gave a barely recognizable head shake—he could’ve been shaking a fly from his hair—and returned to eating his roast beef sandwich.
“Maybe next time.” Coop wondered how thick the lenses were on Rafe’s beer goggles.
“So what about you?” Rafe asked Coop. “Where did you abscond to last night?”
“Matty and I went to some other places.”
“Hold the cordless phone. You and Matty? You mean, he didn’t scurry back to the library as soon as he left?”
Coop shook his head no—a definite no. He gave Rafe a modified version of last night’s events. They went to an open mic night, but Coop was never asked to perform. Coop showed him the pool, but they didn’t sneak in, they didn’t go swimming, and they definitely didn’t kiss.
“Sounds like a fun night,” Rafe said.
“I think Matty appreciated the adventure.”
Rafe examined Coop like a piece of art. “You’re smiling.”
“And your point?”
