To Dustin’s surprise, Steven settled down in the formal dining room at a table that could comfortably seat twenty-four people. He made a big show of opening his physics textbook, telling Dustin they could start working on his problem set right after they had a shot. Ordinarily, Dustin would have refused, but he needed to steel his nerves. The booze was surprisingly smooth and when Dustin said as much, Steven replied, “It fucking well should be, this shit is ninety-five hundred bucks a bottle!”

When Dustin heard this, he shook his head, grabbed the bottle, and did some quick calculations. “We just imbibed seven hundred and sixty dollars’ worth of booze!”

“And we’re doin’ it again!” Steven said, pouring two more shots.

Dustin, unable to deal with his growing anxiety, blurted out, “Is it absolutely impossible to believe Lolly’s little sister would ever go out with me?” and then downed his second shot.

Steven sat back in his chair, let out a slow wolf whistle, and said, “Dustin, you dirty dirty direwolf, you.” (A love of Game of Thrones was one of the few things the two boys had in common.)

Dustin ignored the whistle and kept going. “Ever since I met Kimmie on New Year’s Eve she’s all I can think about. My father caught me watching her ice dancing videos on my iPad and now is probably wondering if I’m gay. Thank god I met her after I got into MIT, because that girl is a GPA-wrecker.”

“Is that nerd-speak for crazy hot? Me likey.” Steven laughed at his friend’s outburst, set the front legs back down on the floor, and then said quite seriously, “Real deal, I think Kimmie would be into a smart guy like you. Plus, girls high-key freak out over the status that comes with dating seniors.” Steven paused, which Dustin instinctively knew meant trouble.

“But…?” Dustin prompted.

Steven nodded and continued, “But … she’s currently caught the attention of Count Vronsky and may be a little under his spell right now. But hang tight, ’cause no girl lasts long with him.” Steven was sorry to give his friend the bad news, but he felt he owed it to Dustin to clue him in on who he was up against.

Dustin furrowed his brow, digesting the news. “Please tell me ‘Count’ is a nickname and not his actual official title.” Steven told his pal that it was indeed a nickname, but one born from a rumor that Vronsky’s father’s lineage could be traced back to a legit Russian royalty. The second theory on why he was known as “the Count” was because it took five minutes for him to count all the girls who had dropped their panties for him, but Steven kept this part to himself, instead adding, “But, seriously, Lolls thinks the Count’s a passing fancy and you could be the slow and steady tortoise that wins Kimmie for a prize.”