Nash's [POV]
"So why did you hate Steve in high school?"
Elle looks up at me as she drags a French fry through the ketchup on her plate.
"I didn't hate him. Not really. We just weren't good friends, you know? I'm two years older than him to start with."
"Wow, I didn't know you were that old," she says, tapping her lips with her index finger.
"Settle down," I say, shaking my head. "You're only two years younger than me."
"I'm four years younger than you. I turn twenty-three next year."
"Ahh, I thought you were Steve's age."
"Nope. He was on the six-year college plan."
"That's right." I stroke my beard my habit when I'm trying to remember something. "I forgot he redshirted his first two years in college."
"I don't know what that means, but yeah, he's two years older than me."
"Damn," I say, sighing. "You're a baby."
"I make up for it with my advanced maturity." She takes a sip of her drink and narrows her eyes. "I still don't get why he invited you to our wedding."
