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thing from her past that prevents her from getting close to anyone. Then there's this Greek guy, this high school boyfriend—Poros or Milos or Dildos. One of those freaking oses."
    "Greek boyfriend?" Rob asked, a little too interested.
    "I didn’t tell you?"
    Rob shook his head no.
    "All I saw of him was the back of his big, fat Greek head as he was leading her away from the court."
    Rob stood up and walked to the window. After pausing to think for a moment, he turned back to Brian. "What are you doing for Spring Break?"
    "I’m staying here. I can’t afford to go anywhere."
    "Come home with me," Rob said.
    "I can’t."
    "If you stay here, you’ll pine away for her all week. You’ll be here all alone, you know. Everyone in the suite is leaving. You’ll drive yourself so nuts thinking about her that you’ll stalk the entire campus until you find a girl who looks like her. Then you’ll kidnap her, skin her, and be caught wearing her skin."
    Brian looked at him like he was insane. "Isn’t that from Silence of the Lambs ?"
    "Probably. Look, my mom’s place is in Miami. It’s only about ten hours from here. We have a pool and a tennis court and—"
    "You have a tennis court, and you don’t play?"
    "I only play real sports."
    "It's a real sport."
    "I don't consider any activity where a skirt is an appropriate uniform a sport."
    Brian scoffed. "Only the women wear the skirts."
    "Well, the men might as well, with all that skipping around after the ball in their little white shorts. A real sport involves men getting dirty while smashing into each other, and there’s always a good chance of getting hurt while playing. Unless it’s got that—it’s not a real sport."
    "I've seen players get hurt playing tennis," Brian added defensively.
    Rob chuckled. "What, like a guy got hit in the nuts once?"
    "No, I saw a guy sprain his ankle," Brian began but quickly realized how lame it sounded. "It was, uh, really... incredibly swollen."
    Rob exhaled. "Wow, that sounds painful, but unless there's a strong possibility of a compound fracture, I don't want to play, and I certainly don't want to watch."
    "Okay, so it's not as violent and dangerous as your precious rugby."
    "That's right. It's not even close."
    Brian shot Rob a confused look. "Why the hell are we talking about this?"
    Rob shook his head. "I'm not sure."
    "Wait. I remember, so if you're not going to play me, what am I going to do—just stand on the court for hours and practice my serve?"
    "My mother plays—really well, in fact. I’m sure she would play you," Rob said.
    Brian looked at him again like he was crazy. "Dude, there is no way I’m playing tennis with your mother. Maybe we should go to my house instead, and you can go bowling with mine."
    "So, don’t play with her. We’ll go down there. The weather will be warm. The women will be wearing practically nothing. I can get Laura to hook you up with a friend, and if you get the hell out of your funk, maybe you could actually get laid for once."
    "You can get me laid?" Brian said, beginning to warm to the idea.
    "I said maybe . It’s not like I have hookers lined up, or anything. You need to actually have a personality and talk with them about something other than tennis."
    Brian’s mind raced, and he looked Rob in the eye. "The tennis court—what’s the surface?"
    "You see that’s what I’m talking about. Surface? It’s a fucking tennis court."
    "No I mean is it asphalt, Har-tru, concrete, or one of those, uh, awesome Decoturf courts."
    After exhaling deeply, Rob gave Brian a tired look. "If I knew the answer to that question, I’d be dead, because I would have killed myself already. You know, there's more to life than tennis. You really should—"
    "Okay... Jesus," Brian interrupted.
    "So... Miami?" Rob asked as he put his fist out for a bump.
    Brian glanced at him, exhaled, smiled, and gave him one.
    "It’ll be awesome. We’ll talk about the details later. I’ve got to run," Rob said as he headed for