Don rolls his eyes. “In other words, you went on a mission and came back totally empty-handed?”
“Listen…”
“No, you listen. You need to start taking this shit seriously, Lewis. Dragging your feet isn’t going to make this go away—you get that, right?”
I start fake crying. “Don’t yell at me!” I pause to think. “I’ll do better next time, I swear. I’ll work on my spiel.”
At some point. Maybe. In a year or two.
I take a few steps back. “I need to get going. Practicals in twenty. See you back at base after practice? We can talk more then.”
“Sure.” My roomie smiles. “I’ll tell you about the two guys I’ve got my eye on. You free tonight, Lane?”
“Yup.” Lane glances at his girlfriend. “How ’bout you?”
“I’ll bring smoothies!” Lois nods.
I glance over at Carrie. “What’re you bringing to the party?”
“It’s a real shame, but I’m going to book club.”
“Come by later, then. You can read us one of your porny bedtime stories.” I wink.
“Sure.” She shrugs. “I’m reading one about a succubus who kills men in their sleep. I think you’ll really relate.”
I pull a face. “You’re really selling the girlfriend thing.”
I HEAD INTO MY MODELINGworkshop and spend a couple of hours working on the mock-up for my tree house cabin. This is one of my favorite classes, where we roll up our sleeves and hone the hard skills we’ll be needing as architects and designers.
I’m planning on starting up my own cabin business, just like Dad. I mean, the goal is to get drafted into the NBA first, but I need to think ahead and cover my bases—figure out what I’ll do after that. Basketball players don’t stay pro forever—you need to know when it’s time to check out, plus you never know when injury can strike… and I’m the kind of guy who has a plan B, a plan C, and possibly even a plan D.
“Nice work, Conley. Maybe take another look at that angle.”
The teacher gives me a quick pat on the shoulder before wandering off.
At the start, she just kind of assumed I was a jock, but she quickly realized she’d misjudged me. No hard feelings—I’m used to it. People don’t usually expect me to be as focused as I actually am. When I set my heart on something, I really go for it.
Site planning class and lunch fly by, and by the time I head to my car, I’m swiping right on my next ride. The guy is already waiting for me in the parking lot. I double-check his profile pic in the app. Yup—definitely him. I unlock the doors and usher him to the back seat before firing up the engine.
“How’s life, Amir?”
“Good. You?”
“With a car like this, life feels pretty sweet!”
“Hell yes!” He nods eagerly. “I’ve got a Dodge, too. Not a Challenger, though. A 1972 Charger. A real fireball.”
“For real?”
“Yup. Midnight blue. Sick ride.”
“You keep it on campus?”
“No, I left it back home. I’m planning on driving it back up after Christmas. I miss driving.”
I glance at my passenger in the rearview mirror. Neat and tidy. Smiley, yet non-creepy. The most amazing idea just came careening round the bend, leaving Firebird in the dust. I smile to myself. The guys want a heavy hitter? I’ve got just the dude.
“You a freshman?”
