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"Yeah. I just got back from my mom’s."
"There’s thirteen fucking people there," I muttered. "Piper’s going to be so disappointed. Goddammit. Fucking assholes won’t even go to the presentation, how is she supposed to talk to a group of chairs?"
"I don’t know. Adam—what is this?"
One of the assistants walked up to me with a lopsided printed hospital record. "We have reports of a road rash when you were twelve?"
"They had me run on the side of the highway, the adrenaline makes you faster. Sometimes I fell," I answered him, staring down at my phone. "King, there’s twenty-five minutes left. What do I do? Do I send flowers?"
He stared down at me. "Who had you run on highways?"
"My parents. And I didn’t run on highways, I ran on the gravel next to them. I wasn’t allowed to run on anything with a real walkway. My dad called them pussy routes." I shook my head. "King, what the hell do I do?"
"What the fuck, Adam?"
"About Piper, King. I’m talking about Piper."
King didn’t say anything, he was still watching the scene around us, looking more concerned every time he saw one of the printed papers on the table. But I wasn’t focused on any of that. My entire attention was on my girl, about to go up to an empty presentation.
"I could get an audience…" I realized.
"Adam, are you…suing your parents?"
"King, focus." I pushed up from my seat and whipped out my phone. "I’ve filled up hundreds of Marrs Manwhore parties in less time. I could get the whole place packed."
I scrolled through my contacts, typing up messages. Even better than that though, I had a PR intern at the head of the table, who knew practically everybody on campus. I bypassed all of her drones and took my place next to her.
"Cleo."
"Oh my god." She bit her lip, looking up at me from the paperwork stretched out in front of her. "Adam…I feel like I’m going to throw up. How are you still a…functioning fucking person? I’m so sorry."
"I need your help," I said. "If I needed a room in the student center filled up in twenty minutes. What do I have to do?"
She stared at me, her hands curled around the table’s edge. "What do you have to do?"
"Yeah."
"Nothing. I’ll do it."
"Are you sure?" I asked, surprised.
"Like, right now?"
"Yes."
"I’ll…start calling people." She took a deep breath. "Are you leaving too?"
"Yeah. I’ve got something way more important than this to get to."
She promised to tell Coach Lawson and I slipped out of the room, heading down the hallway with King at my side. It was a quick walk to the student center but I had a couple of minutes to start banging on some doors.
A group of soccer players relaxed around a table in one of the meeting rooms and I swung in. "If I have ever gotten you laid at one of my parties, get your ass up and to the student center. Now! Bailey, I know you got a blowjob on a washing machine—you fucking owe me, man."
The soccer players stopped eating their sandwiches and glanced at each other.
"Get the fuck up now," I roared. "Move it! King, what’s the room number?"
"Three-fourteen," King answered immediately.
