Even her name was perfect. Rowe. No room for bubble letters and hearts. Just four letters that cut right to the chase. Okay, so I’m probably still a little buzzed from the party I bailed on an hour ago, and her personality could totally blow it tomorrow. But tonight, I’m deciding to believe this girl is perfect, and I get idealistic and romantic after I drink, so I’m going with it.

I’ve dated lots of chicks, and some have come close to perfect. But somewhere along they way, there’s always that one big issue. Sadie, my ex from high school, was really close—all the way until she slept with my best friend at our graduation party. That was her big issue, and apparently it had been her big issue for a few months. I just hope I don’t uncover Rowe’s tomorrow, because I’d like to enjoy this for a while.

Thank God for Facebook. I promise I’ll do something good for the world later this week, because people are supposed to thank God for things far more important than some geeky billionaire computer-developer’s invention. But, right this minute, I’m giving the grand ole mighty shout out to Facebook.

She doesn’t seem to post much on her page. Maybe it’s private? I feel lame sending her a friend request, but I guess I already sent her a message, so what’s one more level of stalking? I wish like hell she had a picture posted. Probably would have spared me my first attempt that went to some pre-teen in Arkansas.

“What’s that smirk on your face for? Are you watchin’  p**n ?” Yeah. Here comes Ty’s shit.

“No, ass**le. I do that on your bed.” I’m not even surprised when his notebook flies at my head. I duck just in time, but he gets me with the follow up of his hat.

For a guy who can’t move his legs, my brother is pretty nimble. He’s lived with paralysis for almost six years now, and he’s half the reason I decided to come to McConnell. He’s here for grad school—an MBA. And part of the deal when I committed to play here was that we’d get to room together.

Ty is the good in me. For some, it’s hard to see that, because my brother can be blunt and crude, and he’s a real ass**le to women. But he’s also exactly who he is—no apologies, no pretending. The day he woke up in the hospital and the doctors told him he wouldn’t be able to walk anymore, he asked them what he could do. And he’s been putting all of his energy into those things ever since. It’s probably why he’s so damned good at school.

I tried harder in baseball because of him. He was better than me, and even as a junior in high school he was being scouted. But then he tore his spinal cord. Baseball became my dream then. At first, I did it because I felt like I owed it to him, like a tribute or something. But he slapped me around over that more than a few times, so now I play for me. And like Ty, I don’t apologize for who I am or what I want out of life. And right now, all I want to do is find out more about Rowe.

“Are you cyber-stalking girls? Fuck, man. That’s creepy.” Ty’s chair has me pinned to my desk, so no use hiding this now.

“Met a girl,” I smile.

“Oh God. You’re going to get all sappy and shit. Man, we just got here! All right, who is she. Show me who we’re stalking.”

I tilt my computer, and Ty slides it over to his lap. I get nervous when he smirks at me, and it only gets worse when he starts to click on things. When I reach to grab my computer back from him, he just twists away, jamming my leg into the side of my desk and pushing me away with his massive forearm.

“She wrote you back, dude,” he teases. I’m somewhere between wanting to punch my brother and dying to know what Rowe said. “Rowe, huh? That’s cool. You know who she looks like, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know; I have a type. So sue me.” I reach again, and he turns completely away, pushing off to the other side of the room and holding his arm out to block me again.

“She says she’ll meet you at the elevator. Oooooo, whatcha doing in the elevator? Have you been reading my Penthouse?”

“Don’t be a dick,” I grunt, kicking his wheel enough to twist him toward me so I can get my laptop back. Ty can tell he’s pushed me far enough, so he eases up…for now.

“You know you have workouts tomorrow, right?”

“Fuuuuuuck!” It’s like I thought I was on vacation or something. I completely forgot about workouts.

“It’s not mandatory,” I say, hoping he’ll corroborate my plan to play hooky.

“Right. Yeah, you could skip. It’s just one workout. It’s not like you’re a freshman fighting for a starting spot or anything. I mean this elevator appointment is really important. It could determine your future with…what was her name?”