“But the ratings don’t just apply to girls,” I counter, inserting myself into the conversation before Braden destroys all the work I’ve done so far. “You said yourself you hate that you can’t tell whether guys on these sites are creepy. With this system of girls rating guys back, none of the creeps who spam girls’ in-boxes will make it more than a few minutes without getting a rating so low they’re knocked out of the system.”

“Hmmm.” She considers this.

“It’s just like we talked about last night—the serial-killer-free dating site. It could be great.”

“Plus...” Braden looks up from rooting through the doughnuts. “There’s a week until the presentation, and it’s the only idea we have.”

So we get to work. Posting up all week in Sara’s suite, we skip some of our less important classes and shower less often than we probably should. Fueled by coffee and takeout, we start to assemble the skeletal version of Perfect10.

And by we, I very much mean me and Sara. Braden “big ideas” Hart does a lot of “supervising.”

“How have we been looking for the same bug for two hours?” Sara lets her head fall to the table. We are sitting in her tiny kitchen, staring at a screen full of code while a rerun of Jersey Shore blares in the background and Braden sits with his feet up on the coffee table, laughing along.

I exhale. “I’m asking myself the same question.” I examine the code again.

“You know what.” Sara’s head pops up. “We don’t have time for this. We have to start working on building the profiles tonight.” She pushes my computer away from her and stands up. “I’ll get my laptop from my room, and you and I will start on that.

“Braden.” She turns toward the couch. “I need you to take Robbie’s computer and fix this bug.”

I grimace, thinking back to the first day of class and realizing that when the people in that other group asked him how many coding languages he knew, Braden never really answered. I hope to God he at least knows some Swift.

“Oh, I, uh...” Braden stretches his neck over the edge of the couch, but doesn’t sit up. “I can’t do that.”

“I don’t care if you think it’s beneath you.” Sara looks exasperated. “We just need it done right now.”

“It’s not that I think it’s beneath me.” He looks at the remote in his hands, turning it over to examine it more closely. “I just...don’t know how to do it.”

“What do you mean?” Her tone is ominous.

He sits up slowly. “I, uh, can’t code.”

“You what?” Sara’s face goes red.

I just laugh. Because, what else can I do?