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I can’t say that I’m surprised.
“You do that.” She gives him a wink. “Bye for now, sexy.”
Eli lifts his hand in a wave as she turns and walks away. Her friends gather around their leader, whispering and giggling to each other.
I pop another piece of brownie into my mouth, then wash it down with a swallow of coffee. “Wow. I thought she was going to offer to bang you right here on the table.”
“Stacie? Yeah. Trust me, she’s offered quite a few times. Well, not on a table, but yeah.”
“Of course she has,” I nod. “Is she president of your fan club?”
“Nah, just a card-carrying member,” Eli says with a smile.
“Ah.” I break off another piece of my brownie. “And what do they get when they join? An ‘I Heart Eli’ sticker? Or maybe a ‘Donnelley 4 Ever’ button? Do tell. I’ll be sure to remind Mandi to sign up.”
Eli ignores my comments as he toys with the bottle cap from his water, spinning it around with his finger. “Since I got drafted into the League, stuff like that happens a lot more often.”
I raise my eyebrows. “You were drafted?”
“Yeah, by New Jersey. What about you? What are you studying?” he asks, abruptly changing the subject.
“Journalism.”
“You want to be a reporter, then? Not a sports reporter, I’m guessing.”
I make a face. “God, no. The last thing I want to do is spend my life following around jocks. Becoming a music journalist is my goal. We’ll see.”
“Music is your thing, then?”
I shrug. “I don’t know if it’s my thing. I like it.”
“What kind of music?”
I wave a hand. “Probably nothing you’re into.”
“Try me. I already know you like Sundown Republic,” he points out. “You were wearing their shirt yesterday.”
My cheeks heat as I remember his comment about girls with leopard glasses who wear Sundown Republic t-shirts.
“I like a lot of different stuff,” I tell him. “The White Stripes, Neon Trees, The Strokes, Arctic Monkeys—”
“D! Yo, what are you doing over there, bro? Get your ass over here!”
I glance to the right and see a group of well-built, athletic-looking guys standing about twenty feet away next to a table populated with the most beautiful girls at Oakmire.
I can’t remember what Sorority house the girls belong to, but I do remember that Mandi was thinking about pledging it.
It figures. She’d fit right in with that crowd.
The tallest guy, who looks like he belongs on the front page of a college recruitment website, runs a hand through his thick, wavy blond hair, then motions to Eli.
“Is that your crew?” I ask, turning my attention back to him.
“Yep.” He smiles, but I notice it doesn’t really touch his eyes. “Catch you later, Holland.”
He makes his way over to the group, tossing his apple core in the trash as he goes. His friends have already taken a seat at the table, and a pretty redhead with perfect skin and dark red lipstick scoots over so Eli can sit next to her. He slings an arm around her and flashes a smile—the same exact smile he’d flashed me earlier. Shaking my head, I take another bite of my brownie.
Well, that’s that, I guess.
