Joy glanced at the chair with her backpack. “It’s occupied.” She didn’t want company. Company was inclined to talk. She didn’t have time for chitchat. She had to focus on her studies. The answers didn’t come easy for her, not like they had for Judy. Joy had to work ten times harder in high school to earn her 4.2 GPA to get into UCLA, and she had to work even harder to pass her college courses. Chemical engineering wasn’t a turtle, a surfing technique she perfected early on where she’d roll her board in front of an oncoming wave to get under it. But she was determined to play by the rules and make up for the years she hadn’t.

“Expecting someone?”

Joy shook her head, eyes locked on her notes.

“No one’s sitting here, then?”

“My backpack is. That a problem?”

Joy knew she was being a bitch. But she’d been up most of the night studying because Gale, who lived across the hall at the sorority house and who’d finished her finals, decided to host an impromptu party. The noise had been distracting.

She should have gone to the library, where she wouldn’t have been disturbed. But it was too late now. She’d waste precious study time crossing campus—exactly what Mr. Rugby was doing, wasting her time.

No, you can’t have my seat, she wanted to say. It’s taken, go away. But a lopsided grin spread on his handsome face.

Oh, wow.

Energy zinged through her faster than caffeine. He was cute.

“I need to cram in another chapter for an analytics exam. All right if I set this by your feet?” He started to lift her backpack.

The energy fizzled and her focus snapped back to the chair he wanted to commandeer. She grabbed the strap and he let go. “The floor is really gross.”

His expression confirmed her initial self-assessment: she was a bitch. His mouth parted, and she was sure he was about to tell her exactly what was on his mind. But the guy at the table beside hers abruptly stood. His foot twisted in his backpack strap, which he’d dumped on the sticky floor.

Off-center, the guy toppled into Mr. Rugby. With lightning-fast reflexes, Rugby dude looped one arm around the guy’s shoulders and, legs braced, stopped them both from falling on Joy’s table. In his other hand he balanced his coffee mug. Joy didn’t see one drop spill. She also didn’t see the chair her backpack had been on tip over. Her bag now rested at her feet.

Once the commotion settled, Mr. Rugby set down his coffee on her table and took off his sweatshirt. He laid it on the floor beside her feet and set her backpack on top.