No. Oh, crap. Yes. “I’m sorry.” I really am. “I forgot.”
“Obviously.” She slides off her bed and walks past me bumping my shoulder as she goes. “I can’t believe you forgot.”
“I’m sorry. You should’ve gone without me.”
“You know I hate that place. Every clique in the world hangs out in the dining hall.”
It’s true. But that hasn’t stopped her before. “You could’ve sent me a text?” Weak response, I know. I can’t believe I forgot, honestly. Oh, wait, yes I can. “Lucky—”
She whips around suddenly. “What about Lucky?”
“He asked me to eat with him at the Student Center.”
“He did?” Her voice is no longer angry. “And you went?”
“Well.”Duh. “Yeah.”
Moving back to her bed, she sits on the edge and leans forward. I’m sensing some of her anger is gone. “Start at the beginning. Tell me everything.”
I smile because I’m relieved this particular round of angry Deena has been short-lived. She’s been known to stay mad for several days. I hate that. “I was at the library.”
She uses her hand to urge me to move faster.
“He stopped by my table and asked me if I was hungry.” Or something like that.
“Did you walk together, or did he meet you there?”
“We walked together.”
“And what did you eat? Please don’t tell me you chose something like spaghetti.”
“What’s wrong with spaghetti?”
“Messy and slurpy-sounding.” She nods encouraging. “Go on.”
Deena thinks of things I never would.Slurpy?“Grilled chicken sandwich and salad.”
Her hands move to her face suddenly. “Oh, grasshopper…”
I still don’t know what “grasshopper” means, but I’m hoping she’s not about to chastise me.
“I’m damn proud.” She’s smiling from ear to ear. “I’ve taught you well. You chose the perfect things. You didn’t eat the bun, though, right?”
“Uh, right.” Hell yes, I ate the bun.
“Okay. Sorry.” She places her hands on her lap. “Keep going.”
I do. I tell her about Tiff and eating and well, that’s about it. “After we ate, we walked out of the Student Center. He turned right, and I went left.”
“Did he try to hold your hand or anything?”
“No. Why would he do that?”
Deena’s head flops back as she releases an exasperated breath. Looking back at me, she says, “Because he loves you, silly.”
“He doesn’t.” He likes me. I guess. As a friend. “We’re just friends.”
“For now.” That’s when I hear her stomach growl.
