Page 1 of Test Me

1

LOGAN

It had taken me a mere two days into my freshman year to figure out that most of the athletes and jock types on campus rolled into the U’s cafeteria at approximately 12:23, swarming the serving lines en masse. I’d tweaked my arrival time accordingly so I could get through before they carb and protein loaded, leaving only wilted vegetables and gristly meat cuts until the cafeteria staff could catch up again.

“Mmmm, perfect timing,” Jesse all but purred as he sipped a glass of watery tea and watched the main entrance.

He had also noticed this pattern, but for wholly different reasons. Either way, by sophomore year when we ate together we’d already be sitting with our meals, Jesse judging the day’s offerings with his signature amateur chef’s disdain, as the guys rolled in. Jesse had become an expert at determining the athletes and their sport by body type. Sometimes it was gimme when one or a few of the guys would amble in wearing a shirt with the sport arched beneath the U’s logo. And despite my decided lack of interest in sports-minded types in general, I’d grown to enjoy listening to Jesse’s running commentary, which was far more forgiving with men than with food.

Today’s first wave consisted of what I assumed was the U’s football offensive line, going by the hulking refrigerator-like builds. The second wave, I wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint except that one of the guys was wearing a U Lacrosse shirt.

Jesse’s gaze ping-ponged back and forth between the two groups as they queued up in the serving lines, before settling on the lacrosse guys.

“Into the stick skills today, huh?” I teased. “What happened to your infatuation with ball-handling prowess?”

“I’m over football players. And basketball guys, for that matter,” Jesse said with a dismissive sniff. “Lacrosse is where it’s at now.”

I tilted my head skeptically. “Have you ever even watched a lacrosse game?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the players. That’s like doubting I would enjoy a cheese Danish just because I haven’t actually eaten one. I know I would enjoy it because it looks fucking delicious.”

“You had cheese Danish for breakfast,” Nate, Jesse’s roommate, chimed in. He joined us on occasion and seemed as amused by Jesse’s comments as I was.

“And it was delicious.” Jesse waved a hand. “You know what I mean. Quit with the semantics.”

What I did know was that Jesse had a new crush seemingly every other week. I absently listened to the two roommates banter back and forth while I eyed the rambunctious lacrosse guys huddled around the baked potato bar. One guy in particular, with wavy chestnut curls that just barely dusted the collar of his Henley, had caught my attention.

“Pickett!” Nate yelled, lifting a hand, and the guy I’d been eyeing turned around, lifting his chin in acknowledgment to Nate when he spotted him.

I tried to angle away, but it was too late. Josh Pickett’s gaze slid from Nate to me, lingering for a two second beat, as if trying to place me, before one of his teammates bumped his shoulder and pointed back to the potato bar where one of the servers was trying to get his attention.

“How do you know him?” Jesse whisper-hissed across me to Nate.

“He can’t hear you, you know,” I pointed out.

Jesse gave me the stink-eye then turned his attention back to Nate. “But seriously, how do you know him?”

Nate squirted a tiny dollop of sour cream onto his baked potato and speared a bite into his mouth. “He’s a Sigma. Pledge brother, actually. We work out together sometimes, too.”

“Awww, how sweet.” Jesse cocked his head and grinned. “Bonding over brotherhood and free weights.”

Jesse, like me, was what was known as a GDI, a goddamn independent. Jesse had said he didn’t have time for all the bullshit, and I was similar, with the added layer of having decided that I wasn’t really the frat type anyway. I liked parties and stuff just fine. But as an introvert, the constant keggers, organized socials, and doing grunt work as a pledge weren’t really my thing.

“Cool lifting technique, bro. Is that how it goes?” I joked, doing my best jock impression as I flexed my meager bicep. I had what I called a decidedly “bookish” build. I wasn’t completely lacking in muscle definition or tone, but I didn’t put a lot of effort into my physique the way Nate did, or even Jesse, who was a yoga addict. I preferred helping people lift their grades over lifting weights.

Jesse snickered as Nate flipped us both the bird. He and I were more casual acquaintances, but Jesse and I had become friends in freshman comp when he’d been Nate’s roommate in the dorms. Now they shared an off-campus house with someother guys, and he and Jesse were close, so Nate appeared every now and then when we ate in the caf. We knew each other well enough to talk shit, though.

“Y’all can both come with me sometime and I’ll show you how it all works,” Nate teased.

“Gym equipment gives me hives, sorry.” Jesse shuddered dramatically.

“You wouldn’t risk it even for all the eye candy?” Nate, as far as I could tell, was straight as an arrow, but Jesse said he’d never been anything other than cool and supportive.

“No.” Jesse and I both answered in unison.

My gaze slid back toward Josh as the server handed him a plate. “Pickett always struck me as lazy, anyway.” I spat out the total non-sequitur with a little more irritation than intended. I didn’t have a true beef with Josh, just that one little thing. I didn’t even know why I’d said anything aloud.

Jesse’s gaze swerved in my direction. “You know him, too? Like, well enough to get him to introduce me to that guy he’s talking to?”