Page 47 of False Catch

Cameron shrugs, the tiniest smile playing at his lips.

My phone buzzes. Quinton: Looking forward to tomorrow. The library study room 3B at 3?

I type back a quick confirmation, trying to ignore the way Gray's jaw tightens when he sees me texting.

"Who's that?" Zane asks, not quite casually.

"Project partner. We meet tomorrow."

"Quinton," Gray says flatly.

The mood at the table shifts slightly.

"He's harmless," I say.

"No," Jackson says unexpectedly. "He's not."

Everyone looks at him.

"Jackson?" Eli prompts gently.

Jackson just shakes his head, retreating back into silence.

"Anyway," Beckett says, clearly trying to salvage the mood. "Movie night? I still vote for something with explosions."

"Horror," Cameron insists. "You already agreed."

"I agreed under duress."

"You agreed because you lost rock-paper-scissors," Tyler corrects.

"Tyler throws rock 73% of the time. It's statistically predictable," I point out.

Tyler gasps dramatically. "You've been analyzing my patterns?"

"Everyone analyzes your patterns. You're incredibly predictable."

"I am not!"

"You get the same coffee order every time, sit in the same spot, wear the same style shirt in three colors—"

"That's called efficiency!"

"That's called boring," Zane teases.

"Says the guy who stress-bakes the same three recipes."

"I have a wider repertoire!"

"Name one thing you've baked that wasn't cookies, brownies, or bread."

"I made a cake once!"

"Box mix doesn't count."

Gray leans over to whisper in my ear, “I’m just shocked that Zane knows the word repertoire.”

I stifle a laugh as they continue to bicker, something warm settling in my chest. This feels so normal. So collegiate. Just friends arguing about movies and coffee and baking.