Remember Me Not

SIXTEEN - AFTER

"Hey," he says, raising a hand in greeting. "I'm Adam. How's it going?"

Taking my seat beside Elliot, I smile politely. "Nice to meet you."

"How do you know Elliot?"

I'm not expecting the questions to start coming this quickly, so my mouth opens while I'm still trying to pull together an answer. The girl cuts in before I need to. "Give the girl a chance to breathe, won't you, Adam?" she says, rolling her eyes. "Sorry about him. I'm Fazia."

I'm about say hey, but Adam gets there first.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks indignantly.

"It means we know you'll flirt with any girl with a pulse, and Morgan deserves at least one meal in peace before you start."

"I was being polite!"

"And I'm sure something else was going to follow pretty quickly," she chides, but there's a softness to her tone that tells me this bickering isn't serious. "Sorry in advance, Morgan. You'll get used to him."

I smile hesitantly, unsure of my place in this exchange, considering I just met these people thirty seconds ago. It feels safer to steer the conversation somewhere else. "So, um, are you guys freshmen?"

Fazia nods. "Yeah, we're still new around the place. Still enjoying the novelty of being away from home. Though I'm really not a fan of all the laundry."

I laugh. "Yeah, me neither."

It doesn't go unnoticed that she doesn't ask the same question back; I wonder why. Has Elliot mentioned me already between our two accidental encounters? Do they know who I am, and of the controversial connection that links the pair of us together? Fazia is ice cool; her face doesn't give anything away. And Adam's still smiling pleasantly, with no obvious hint of discomfort. I'm left none the wiser.

"Still," she continues, with a nod toward Elliot, "we kind of knew each other before we started here, anyway."

"Oh?"

Elliot swallows a particularly ambitious mouthful of lasagna and nods. "It's true. I mean, we hadn't technically met, but we had a head-start on the whole making friends thing."

Now I'm curious. "How so?"

"And it wasn't a buddy system for minorities, if that's what you're thinking," Adam chips in.

Fazia glances at Elliot. "He's not a minority."

"He's a redhead." Adam shrugs. "He's got a few struggles."

"Seriously?" Elliot takes a swipe at Adam's arm, which is resting on top of the table. There's a faint tinge of color to his freckled cheeks. "No, it wasn't anything like that."

"Photography," Adam says. "Turns out, we're all insufferable dorks for it. Who would've thought? There's this big Facebook group, with thousands of members from all over the country, and it has a kind of daily competition—"

"There's a theme every day," Fazia explains. "You post your photo, people like them, and the one with the most likes wins. A lot of people wonder what the point is, since there's no real prize except eternal bragging rights. But it's fun. The quest for the perfect photo can lead to the craziest adventures."

My surprise must be obvious, because both Fazia and Adam pick up on it.

"You look confused," he says.

"No, no, I get it. I just—" I glance toward Elliot. "I didn't know you were into photography."

"You didn't?" Fazia asks incredulously. "God, Elliot, have you just met this girl? Or did you not tell her because you don't think the group's cool enough?"