"I see you," I call back, moving through the lunch crowd with Haru trailing behind me.
Ethan waves, his reddish-blonde hair catching the sunlight. "Gavin! Haru! How was practice?"
"Most invigorating," Haru answers, setting his tray down with mathematical precision. "Gavin-san exceeded his previous distance by 0.6 meters."
"Translation: he crushed it," Tyler grins, fist-bumping me as I sit down.
"Just getting started," I shrug, digging into my double portion of chicken and rice. Track and football require serious calories.
Tyler leans forward. "So, recruitment. Drew's been all over my ass about the diversity numbers."
"We are making significant progress," Haru says, pulling out his clipboard.
"Dude, do you shower with that thing?" Ethan laughs.
"That would be most impractical," Haru responds seriously, missing the joke. "Paper products and water are not compatible."
I smile, watching my friends. Tyler, VP of Delta Psi and my best friend since freshman year, only came out as bi a few months ago at our Halloween party. Now he and Ethan, a nursing student and a former wallflower, are inseparable.
Tyler's different since he came out. Looser. More himself. The psych nerd in me wants to slap labels on it: authentic self-expression, decreased anxiety markers, whatever, but honestly?
Dude's happy. That's the whole diagnosis.
"Gavin? Earth to Gavin?" Tyler waves his hand in front of my face.
"Sorry," I blink. "Thinking about recruitment."
"Yeah, right," Ethan smirks. "You had your psychoanalyzing face on."
"I was not psychoanalyzing," I protest.
"You totally were," Tyler laughs. "What's my diagnosis, Dr. Robins?"
Before I can answer, a familiar voice booms across the dining hall.
"Yo! GR!"
I turn to see a group of offensive linemen heading our way, trays loaded with enough food to feed a small country. Jeff andMarcos, Delta Psi brothers, along with DeShawn, Devon, and Jamal from the team.
"My dudes!" I stand for the ritual fist bumps and shoulder slaps that football players can never seem to avoid. "Good practice?"
"Coach is killing us with those new drills," DeShawn complains, dropping into an empty chair. "Off-season is supposed to be chill."
"Tell that to the championship we're gunning for next season," Jamal counters.
Jamal, our quarterback and the object of Haru's earlier attention, smiles at our table. "Mind if we join?"
"Please do," Haru says, his normally perfect English suddenly stiff and formal. "There is adequate seating for additional persons at this table."
I hide my smile behind my water bottle. Haru's crush isn't exactly subtle, at least not to me.
Introductions go around. Tyler and Ethan already know the guys from frat events. Haru, however, becomes increasingly formal with each introduction, especially when Jamal sits directly across from him.
"It is most pleasurable to make your acquaintance," he tells Jamal, then immediately looks mortified at his word choice.
"You too, man," Jamal says easily. "You're the exchange student from Japan, right? I've seen you at the house."
"Yes. Japan. That is correct. I am from there," Haru manages, then falls silent, staring intently at his salad.
