I slump into my chair. I expected negativity from Braden, but if Robbie is saying it, it might be right. “I just...” I turn the computer toward them. “It looks like a Myspace page or something.”

“Well, yeah, it’s not pretty,” Braden says. “But I can BS that in the presentation. At least it works.”

Robbie and I share a look.

“What was that—?” Braden sits up, his chair making a loud noise as the two legs return to the floor. He narrows his eyes. “It does work, right?”

I look toward the ceiling. “Well...”

“Most of the time,” Robbie clarifies. “It just, well, it crashes very easily.”

“How easily?” Braden is indignant.

Robbie bites his lip. “When there’s more than five users.”

“What?” Braden looks back and forth between us. “Don’t you think he’ll test for that kind of thing?”

“Hey,” I say, my voice stern. “Those who don’t code do not get to complain.”

“Jesus Christ.” Braden grabs his laptop and swiftly closes it, then slides it under his arm. “I need to go work on my presentation. It’s gonna be quite the task to pass this literal piece of shit off as gourmet chocolate.”

He storms out. Robbie and I stare at each other as the sound of the slamming door rings in our ears.

“That was a pretty gross metaphor,” I finally say, standing up to get a glass of water.

“Yeah.”

I lean against the sink and sip my water. “Are we totally screwed?” I ask.

Robbie considers this. “Maybe he will reward us for the ambition of the project we took on.”

I make a face. “He said he wanted to fail people. I don’t think he’s one to give points for trying.”

“Yeah.” He examines the Chinese menu on the table in front of him.

“Do you want to go with me tomorrow when we have to change majors?” I ask.

“It’s a date,” he says.

I smile. And I feel warmth in my heart, a sort of relief, that I can smile despite how screwed we are. That he can make me smile.

The next day, I file into the classroom along with the other students who arrived before the doors were unlocked. I pace for a while until I spot Robbie walking through the doors. I cross the aisles toward him.

“Where would you like to sit?” I ask.

“Wherever you want.”

I point to three open seats in the fourth row. He nods and walks toward them. I look around. “Of course Braden isn’t here yet.”

“Well, at least he’s consistent,” Robbie says as he sits down.