“So maybe we’re both hearing things that aren't exactly true?”
“How many girls did you date last year?”
“Uh.” He hems and haws. Purses his lips. “I went out with eight.”
“That's like one a month. Let me guess, you loved them all?”
He winces. “Well, I heard you have a boyfriend.”
“I did, but when I came here we decided we should go back to being friends. He's my best friend.”
“Good to hear. Cuz you look like my next girlfriend.”
“Oh my gosh, did you really just use a pickup line on me? I thought you said you’re a sensitive soul. More like your soul is full of bullshit.”
“Uh, sorry. I don't know why I just said that. So hey, I gotta go, but save me a dance tomorrow night, kay?”
I give him a flippant, "Sure," along with an eye roll.
He turns and grabs both my hands. "I'm serious." He looks me in the eye, and I swear, I almost faint when he touches me.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Repeat after me:
Do not fall for a player.
Only date nice boys.
No! Don’t date any boys.
Remember the list.
Do not fall in love.
You can not fall for a player.
I could probably kiss him though. Would that be being me?
But then my mind immediately goes to doing him.
Oh, my.
I think I may be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder or something. I can’t seem to think straight around this guy.
I shake my head a bit, get the cobwebs that seem to have formed in my brain out, and walk back to my dorm.
How not to impress a girl.
8:20pm
Back at the dorm, in the safety of my room, my roommate is already in bed and asleep.
Seriously? Curfew isn’t even until ten-thirty. And I’m still on Pacific time, which means it’s only six at home. I change into a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt then text my mom real quick.
Me: So, I’m doing good. So far so good.
Mom: Any cute boys?
Me: Mom, I’m having a boy moratorium.
Mom: But, still.
Me: Yes, I have met some cute boys. One that is so good looking, he should be an actor. He’s like the God of all Hotties.
Mom: Did you talk to this hottie?
Me: Yeah, he asked me to go the dance with him tomorrow, but I said no.
Mom: WHY!!!????
Me: Cuz he’s apparently a player. And I refuse to fall in love again.
Mom: Players can be fun. You know who was a player before he met me, just saying.
Me: I’ll keep that in mind. Love you!
Mom: Love you more!
I turn on my lamp on and shine it at my bare wall. I’m ready to hang up the main decor for my side of my room.
It’s a fourteen by ten foot poster of the ocean. Brooklyn’s dad was lying on the sand when he took the photo. Kym had it blown up and mounted.
As I hang the poster, I start to get tears in my eyes. I can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe I’m not home. With my family. With my friends. With Cush.
I wonder how mad Cush is at me. What lies Vanessa must be spreading. What she will do to get Cush to like her.
Fuck stalkers.
I get the poster hung up, then turn on the main light and appraise it. My roommate moans and pulls the covers over her head.
It looks fantastic. It’s the ocean right out in front of my house, there’s a big wave coming in to shore, and way out in the distance are Brooklyn and me, both up on our boards.
I sit on my bed and stare at it. Feel homesick. Decide to make my bed. I have my poster hung, my bed made, and am about to start unpacking clothes, and possibly call Brooklyn.
My phone vibrates.
I have a text message from someone called The love of my life <3.
The love of my life <3: Where are you?
Me: Who is this?
The love of my life <3: Dallas, duh:)
Me: That’s not what it says in my phone.
The love of my life <3: Come meet me outside your dorm.
Me: I was gonna unpack.
The love of my life <3: You can do that after curfew, come on.
Me: You talked me into it :)
So I go.
I figure it’s both the boys and maybe we’ll go kick around a soccer ball or something, but when I get out there I see it’s just Dallas.
He gives me a naughty grin.
“Why do you look like we’re about to do something that could get us both in trouble?”
He’s a cutie and really does remind me of a younger Brooklyn.
He opens his hand and shows me a neatly rolled joint. Like I said . . .
“Wanna join me?”
“Oh my gosh, yes. But where? I don’t want to get in trouble my first day.”
“I already got the scoop on where to go. Come on.” He grabs my hand, which feels surprisingly natural. We walk behind my dorm and into some woods I hadn’t noticed yet. There’s a skinny but well-worn path that we follow and, pretty soon, we’re in a well-hidden clearing. I smell the unmistakable scent of weed and know it’s not just me and Dallas who are gonna get a little baked.
There’s a group of guys sitting in the clearing on a bunch of downed tree logs, as are Peyton and the gorgeous brunette. Dallas told me earlier that her name is Whitney.
At first I’m a bit nervous, because Peyton is my group leader, and I’m pretty sure that Whitney is the Queen Bee here. And I know a thing or two about diva personalities. They don’t like competition and use their power to squash it quickly. I half expect Whitney to walk up to me and tell me to get off her turf.
But, as is typical with Queens, they get other people to do their dirty work.
Just after Dallas and I sit down off to the edge of their circle, a tall brown-haired guy with really massive arm muscles and kind of a beaky nose walks over towards us.
Dallas stands up. “Hey, Ace.”
“You aren’t supposed to be back here—seniors only.”
I smile at Ace, who looks me up and down very predatorily. Specifically my long, tan legs.
Dallas is super smooth, though, and I’m impressed. I hand him back the joint. He takes a big hit and blows the smoke out toward Ace’s face.
“Chill, dude. We won’t bother you. Just needed a place to smoke.”
But Ace is probably the asshole in the group and clearly hasn’t smoked yet. He is way too uptight. Dallas hands me back the joint, so I hold it out to Ace, toss my hair a little and then smile at him. “Here, we’ll even share.”
Ace appraises me, takes a hit, mellows a bit, and then hands me back the joint. “What the fuck, with legs like that you can come here anytime.”