College Ruled

eleven

| 11 |
____________

WITH THE sour pucker of Theo's lips and the thrumming vein in his forehead as he watches us take a seat, you'd think Grayson and I drove all the way here just to take a shit in Theo's pot pie.

      Which, I suppose, is exactly what we came here to do. Figuratively, of course.

And I'll be the first to admit — it makes every single bubbling ounce of anxiety in my gut worth it. So much so that I have to fight every muscle in my face to stop from smiling too wide.

At least, for about five seconds.

     Because by then three pairs of eyes are already on me as we step up to the table. Five when Grayson slides into the open spot across from Theo and beckons for me to sit beside him.

     I squirm beneath it all. Grayson lays a hand on my bouncing knee, as if that's going to help.

    "Well, look who it is." Maverick, who'd been slouched over a bowl of white chicken chili at the next table over, swivels around in his chair, brown eyes shining. "Pantry girl."

     "Mave," Grayson scolds. His tone is flat, but the corner of his mouth twitches. "You know her name."

     Maverick blinks. "I really don't."

      I swear I flinch. Grayson juts his chin down at me, now fully frowning. My nails dig into the edge of the plastic booth. I'm pretty sure, from across the bar, Theo is eagerly taking it all in, but I don't allow myself to look.

     Technically, I guess I haven't ever actually introduced myself to him. Or to any of them, that I remember. Even when I dated Theo he wasn't that close to the team yet, and I didn't tend to spend much time out. We spent most of our shared time holed up in my dorm or his room or here — alone.

     A few tables over some of the team is still chatting away, too far away to care about Grayson or me — his apparent new... something. But those close enough or bored enough to care wait for my to say something.

     Staring. Always staring.

     "Remi," I croak.

     The stocky brunette seated beside Theo — who I do vaguely remember (Chad? Chester? Hell, I don't know) — furrows his eyebrows in Theo's direction before he blinks back my way, offers a sheepish smile, and shoves his nose back into his steaming mug of tea.

      "Well, Remi, nice to officially meet you." Maverick winks at Grayson, as if being pleasant to me is in some chapter of the bro code. Or, not. Because a second later he's pushing his bottom lip out in a scolding pout. "But, don't think I've forgiven you for Yumi. Gray may be my boy but she was my woman, and I shall seek my revenge."

      Grayson snorts. He lowers his mouth to my ear. "He's dramatic." After a beat he adds, lowly, "You two should get along spectacularly."

      I jab him in the ribs, not gently, and he twists his face away. The strangled grunt I evoke from him is a sweet, sweet sound.

      I smile toward a waiting Maverick. "I shall look forward to it."

      Now recovered, Grayson snorts again. I ignore him and stick my face in a menu. Conversations rise back up around me, thankfully pivoting away from me.

     I can't seem to force my focus away from the menu. I read over the phrase 'can be grilled upon request' at least five times before a finger hooks over the menu, covering it.