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Dean: No, I’ll definitely miss your tits. That top you were wearing yesterday was ridiculous. They were about to pop out.
Leighton: Thanks?
Dean: You looked hot as fuck.
Leighton: And?
Dean: Did Ryan say anything about how he wanted to motorboat you?
Leighton: I’m rolling my eyes now.
Dean: Trust me, Leigh. Any normal guy looks at your boobs and thinks “I need to come on those.”
Leighton: You’re so gross.
Dean: And if Ryan pushed you against the wall and whispered “I want to come on your tits?”
My cheeks flush. I press my knees together. I, Uh…
Leighton: Your point?
Dean: He doesn’t want to fuck you.
Leighton: Okay. I’ll concede that. I’m not doing this to fuck him.
Dean: You have no idea what Penny and her friends are like. You don’t know what you’re getting into.
Leighton: I don’t care. I’m doing this.
Dean: You’re smarter than this.
Leighton: I’m doing it.
Dean: Promise you won’t leave if he breaks your heart.
Leighton: He won’t.
Dean: He will.
Leighton: No, he won’t.
Dean: Then it will be an easy promise to keep.
It’s bizarre seeing Dean worried.
But sweet.
I cross my fingers.
Leighton: Okay. I promise.
Usually, I love my design class. Today, it’s a slog. The lecture on typography goes in one ear and out the other. My thoughts are all tuned to Ryan.
To the possibility of kissing Ryan.
I try to pay attention by making him the centerpiece of my homework—a book cover, my favorite—but it isn’t enough to keep my head in the game.
The entire drive, I think of him. As I park and walk to the shop, I think of him.
