“I really can feed myself.” Romeo grinned. “The docs said you shouldn’t exert yourself.” “Maybe if I only lift three noodles instead of five, I can manage it.” He opened wide and accepted another spoonful. Ballet Boy tucked the afghan around his legs on the old couch, and three of the other guys stared at their computers in various parts of the big frat house living room. They seemed to make it a practice to hang around with him whenever they weren’t in class. He was half in heaven and half uncomfortable. For someone who spent most of his time alone, living with the IPis and, more particularly, being the center of their attention, was unnerving—and delightful. He opened his mouth for more soup. “Uh, hi.” Snow’s head snapped back, and he managed to spill soup all over the napkin Romeo had wrapped around his neck. Behind him, in the archway from the front door, stood Riley. He stared at his shoes. “Sorry. The door was open. I, uh, brought someone who wanted to see you.”
