Page 57 of End Game

“He’s a psych major.”

“Cool.”

The bartender pushes our drinks towards us. Since it looks like he’s not going to, I reach into my wallet and pull out a few bucks to shove in the glass stuffed with far too few bills. I don’t care that it’s a “free” drink from a drink ticket—she’s working hard, she deserves to be paid a fair wage.

I take a sip from my drink. It’s well made for cheap well vodka, I have no complaints. Taking a second sip, I survey the crowd.

“Are these events always this popular?”

Trey gives me a sideways grin. “Usually, yeah. Psych is one of the biggest departments at the graduate and doctoral level.”

“I wouldn’t know. I just transferred in.”

He does a double take. “Oh? From where?”

“USC.”

“Cool. How was South Carolina?”

I laugh. “No, the University of Southern California. I was on the soccer team.”

He looks me over again. “Really?”

“I transferred in, so now I’m on the Newton team.”

Trey gives an awkward chuckle. “I didn’t even realize Newton had a soccer team. I’m not really into sports ball.”

Okay, strike one. How can he not like sports?

Strike two. He calls it sports ball?!

“Soccer is a huge part of my life.”

“Maybe I’ll check out a game one of these days,” he says.

I don’t want to lie and say it’s a good team to watch. Frankly, we suck. But we could use the support of the student body, our friends and peers. Even if we don’t play well, it would be nice to have fans in the stands.

It’s clear some of the girls have given up. Others are trying hard, just can’t put everything together: they’re good in practice, and then fall to pieces during actual games. There’s a distinct lack of communication between forwards and defense; it’s like Johanna and her minions exist in an entirely different realm than the rest of us.

“Maybe you should,” I tell him, and he gives me another one of those sideways grins that makes my stomach swirl. I can’t tell if it’s attraction or indigestion.

Mason catches my eye in the crowd. She’s reserved me a seat near the front, and it’s quickly filling up.

“I’ll see you around.”

Trey grins at me. “You, too.”

Making my way through the crowd, I slip into the chair Mason has saved for me. She squeezes my arm and goes back to her conversation with Dvora. My phone buzzes in my back pocket and I pull it out, fully expecting it to be a message from Barrett or my parents.

It’s not. It’s Trey.

Great running into you again, he wrote. We should go out sometime.

My stomach swoops. Looking over my shoulder, I meet his eyes and smile. He inclines his head briefly.

My phone buzzes again. It’s a date.

Chapter 18