Summer sat down, letting her tray drop with a clatter that almost knocked over her chocolate milk.

He grinned at her. “How’s it going?”

“You know how it’s going,” she said, picking up her spoon. Summer had a bowl of chili and a side salad.

The guy had two plates again—pork chops, with raw broccoli, more cottage cheese, almonds, again, and his Tupperware granola.

He ate it all with a knife and a fork. His weight-lifting gloves were sitting next to his tray.

“He wasn’t a dipshit,” Summer said.

The guy glanced up at her. “Okay.” He went back to eating. “He really wasn’t. He isn’t.”

The guy squinted one eye, like he disagreed with her.

“You don’t even know him,” she said.

“We live on the same floor.”

“That’s hardly intimate.”

“I mean, I’ve seen him naked . . .”

Summer made a face. “Don’t you guys have shower stalls?” “We have stalls,” the guy said, “but no curtains.”

“That’s a real maintenance problem,” she said.

He gave her a frank look. “I’ve hung out with your ex-boyfriend. He doesn’t rinse the sink after he brushes his teeth, and he never laughs at anyone else’s jokes. He’s kind of a dipshit, no offense.”

“How can that be ‘no offense’? I dated him for fourteen months.”

“I get it. He’s cute.”

Charlie was cute. He had dark hair that brushed his collar and stayed perfectly tucked behind his ears. He had a pointy chin and prominent cheekbones. He looked like the cute, smart friend on a sitcom. He made Summer feel cuter and smarter. By association. “That’s not why we dated,” she said.

“You don’t have to explain any of this to me.”

“I know,” she said. “I just—I don’t like it when you call him that. Just because he didn’t laugh at your jokes . . .”

“Did he ever laugh at yours?”

Summer bit the inside of her cheek—so that she wouldn’t say something like “Maybe I’m not funny” just to win this argument.

“What are you even eating?” she asked.

“Protein,” the guy said, chewing.

“What’s that stuff you carry around in your little container? Is it steroids? Or Grape-Nuts? Is it steroid Grape-Nuts?”

He lowered his eyebrow, offended, but he still kind of laughed. “It’s hemp hearts.”

“Is that legal?”

“Yes, it’s legal. They’re good for you. Do you want to try some?”

“No, thank you. I might run for office someday.”

He laughed again. “I thought you were going to be a secondary school teacher.”

“I can do both.”

He shrugged again, agreeably.

“Where are your friends?” she asked. When she used to see him at dinner, he’d be sitting with a big group of friends. All weird-looking. None as weird-looking as him.

“On the other side of the cafeteria,” he said, “with the good soft serve. Where are yours?”