Page 86 of Patrick

CHAPTER 23

TRICK

“Look who’s here!” Pammy says with unnatural cheer as she throws open the door. I’m about to throw on my jacket and go to the Whit for lunch with the team. I only came to the apartment after class for a quick nap.

When I turn and see Fifi walking in the door, dressed in pale pink right down to her fuzzy earmuffs and matching fuzzy vest, I automatically start salivating.

“Shit.”

Her brilliant grin falters.

Double shit.

“No—I’m…you’re a vision, like out of my dreams.” I meet her as she ventures into the living area, with Pammy trailing behind her, mouthing an apology.

She must have set this up thinking she was doing a good deed.

“I know you’re supposed to eat with the team, but I brought your favorite take-out and thought maybe you could skip⁠—”

“Smells great.” I slide my arms around her, giving in to the temptation to kiss her. “Food smells good too,” I whisper.

“Is it okay for you to miss your team lunch? We did before, and I’m taking a quick break from my marathon session with Professor M. The new project is working out even better than the original. It’s totally different and so original and all inspired by you⁠—”

“You can stop rambling, Fifi. It’s okay.” That’s a lie worth telling. Coach Zabra will make me pay for missing lunch again even if I had a legit excuse. I’m not the only guy who misses meals, but he doesn’t hate them the way he hates me.

“It’s my fault,” Pammy says. “I thought you both could use a short break, and I knew you’d want to see each other.”

“You’re a sweetheart, Pammy,” Fifi says, touching her arm.

“It’s true. Thanks for the surprise.” Although I wish she’d warned me. I might have been able to come up with an excuse for Zabra.

But the scent of Fifi and her food pushes all thoughts of my evil coach from my head, and all three of us sit on the couch to eat our steak and cheese subs at the coffee table.

Fifi tells us about Darcy’s latest social media blitz. “Ricci and Nina posted comments that she’s a lying gossip, and to combat her storyline, they’ve reposted pics of you with other girls.”

“Where’d they dig those up?”

She laughs. “Easy, they contacted all their friends who were glad to share their pics of them with you, mostly kissing.”

Pammy searches IG for anything related to me and gets a long stream of posts with me and various girls overwhelming the hockey posts.

“This is crazy,” she says, giving me her phone. After a quick look, I hand her phone back because there’s nothing there more than PG rated, and pics of me with random coeds is the last thing I want to see right now. Not when I’m with Fifi. My discomfort is unsettling. I put a hand on her knee—not sure why, but the move re-settles me.

“All the social media attention is making me nervous,” Fifi says.

Things are getting extra complicated, but I don’t share my doomsday thought. Instead, I hug her.

“Let’s concentrate on eating.”

She almost laughs, but gets a ping on her phone. I want to tell her to ignore it, but she’s too quick to check it.

“I don’t believe this. It’s George texting me.”

“George, the guy your Dad set you up with?” Tension strangles me so tight I put down my sub, no longer interested in eating as I watch her frown while she reads the text.

“What does it say?” Pammy asks.

I don’t want to know, but I need to know, and I take a deep breath, reminding myself she doesn’t care about this dude. I suck at self-coaching because I’m still as tense as a prizefighter when the bell rings.