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“What class is the test for, Holland?” Eli asks, an innocent look on his face. “Film studies? I heard a rumor that they’re studyingFatal Attraction.”
“Nope. Culinary 202. We’re learning how to make rabbit stew,” I fire back. “It’s... an acquired taste.”
Eli laughs while Mandi wrinkles her perfect little nose.
“Did you change your schedule, Holland? I don’t remember you mentioning a culinary elective to me before.”
“Later,” I tell Mandi, ignoring her question. “See you around, Eli.”
He grins. “Yep. See you in class.”
Tossing my cup into the trash on the way out of the coffee shop, I pause to look back at the two of them.
Mandi has her hand on Eli’s arm and is batting her eyelashes at him, clearly getting her flirt on. Eli seems to be enjoying himself, but a second later he glances in my direction, catching me staring.
He gives me an easy smile. I flush, then quickly turn around and exit the shop. Hiking my bag over my shoulder, I head down the street in the direction of the library.
Guys like Eli are nothing but flirts. Though to my dismay, I’d enjoyed that little bit of attention, even if it wasn’t sincere.
How long has it been since a guy has flirted with me? Too damned long, apparently.
I need to get my nose out of my textbooks and socialize a bit, even if it forces me from my comfort zone.
The truth is, I suck at flirting. People who are good at small talk are usually good at flirting, and that just isn’t me. Still, if I ever want to make any real friendsorget a boyfriend before I graduate, I need to get out of my dorm room and talk to people.
Despite Mandi’s insistence, I won’t be going to see any hockey games, though. I hate sports. And thanks to a few awful encounters in my past, I like jocks even less.
Even if they are as hot as Eli Donnelley.
3
The front door of my dorm room bursts open later that night, scaring the shit out of me for a hot second before I realize it’s only Mandi, who appears to be majorly hopped up on caffeine.
Considering Mandi’s pep-meter regularly hovers close to maximum capacity, I’m slightly alarmed at how jacked up she is right now.
Pulling my earbuds from my ears, I set my laptop next to me on the bed and stare expectantly at my roommate, who is still standing in the doorway, looking overly bright-eyed.
“Uh, are you okay?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m more than okay.” Mandi sweeps into the room and spins around, clutching her hands to her chest. “Holland, I think I’m in love.”
Covering my mouth with my hand, I do my best to smother my laughter. She’s practically floating around our room, wearing a huge, goofy smile on her face. If she breaks into song and a herd of forest animals barge in and begin to harmonize with her, I wouldn’t even bat an eye at this point.
“Let me guess. You’re ‘in love,’” I say, making air quotes, “with Eli Donnelley, right?”
“Who else?” Mandi does another ballerina-like spin, then giggles. “He’s amazing. So kind and considerate. So funny. And he’s the best-looking guy at this entire university.”
“Uh huh,” I mutter, crossing my arms. “You just met him like three hours ago, Mandi. You don’t even know him.”
“I know that I want him.” Mandi flops onto her bed with a happy sigh. “He’s perfect.”
“Uh huh,” I repeat, rubbing my temples.
If Mandi spends all semester gushing about this guy, I’ll have to purchase noise-cancelling headphones to block out her blather, because these cheap-ass earbuds aren’t going to cut it. Come to think of it, I probably should have invested in a pair days ago.
“Come on, Holland. Be real. Don't you think he’s dreamy?”
I drag my hands down over my face and groan. “Dreamy? Mandi, are you a time traveler? Were you sent here from 1950 or something?"
