Jake

Mark Reilly, better known among our group as “Riles,” grinned at me across the table in our cramped apartment. “So, what’s the plan for tonight?”

I smirked back. “Most of the class is hitting that sketchy club downtown, but I’m keeping it low-key. There’s this dive bar right off campus—the Rusty Cue. Cheap drinks, decent pool tables. You in?”

“I was praying you’d say strip club,” he laughed, “but yeah, I’m down. Hoping there’s at least one bored grad student looking for a distraction.”

That was exactly my plan. I checked my phone. “I’m grabbing dinner at the cafeteria. Meet me outside the dorm at seven, showered, in normal...