“Like I said, it won’t happen again.”

One bite of the turkey sandwich and any ill will I’d felt toward Gaspard completely evaporated. I actually sighed with pleasure as I ate. Baby arugula, some sort of cranberry chutney, and caramelized onions, with smoked gouda melted all over the entire thing. Hands down the best sandwich I’d had in a really long time. I was almost disappointed to put it down when I heard my phone buzz from across the room.

But then Jamie popped into my head, and I hurried to my desk to see if the text was from him.

December 6. Cal/Penn State. Championship game.

He didn’t identify himself, but I knew it was him. Who else would start a conversation with soccer stats?

I licked a spot of chutney off my finger and keyed back my response. That was an awesome game.

I was there. I saw you play.

I read his words once and then again. He was there? And he remembered me? If you saw me play, then you saw us win.

I should have recognized you, he texted back. You were amazing.

I hadn’t thought about that game in a while. My senior year at Berkeley, we played in the championship against Penn State. It was a close game—almost too close—but we’d eked out a win in the end.

I read Jamie’s text again. I had been amazing.

Not still licking your wounds, then, I see. Thank you for noticing, I responded.

Ha. It took awhile. I haven’t lost like that in a long time.

Then you were probably due. Losing is good for us every now and then.

A full minute passed before his next message popped up. I have a feeling you don’t lose much.

You know me so well already. I hit send, then added one more line. I’m glad you texted.

I’m glad you gave me your number, he responded.

I smiled. I’m glad you’re glad.

What are you doing later?

Working. Forever working. First day today, and I’m already drowning.

How about Wednesday? he texted back. Have dinner with me?

Yes, please.

Pick you up at 7?

Sounds good.

Address? Also, what do you love to eat?

I texted him my address and thought about his question. I loved to eat pretty much everything, but I missed my favorite sushi place out in Berkeley and wanted to find a replacement in Chapel Hill. How do you feel about sushi?

His reply popped up almost instantly. Let’s do it.

Jamie: Brothers. And by brothers I mostly mean Simon. I need food advice. Where can I get good sushi?

Dave: You don’t like sushi.

Cooper: Don’t discourage him, Dave. He’s finally branching out a little.

Simon: He’s not branching out. He’s trying to impress a girl.

Dave: The soccer chick?

Simon: Her name is Lane.