I loosen my jaw, realizing when it starts to ache that I’ve been clenching it. I shake out my hands, sore from being squeezed, and try to take some deep breaths. One thing at a time. And right now that one thing is finding Sexy Shakespeare.
I try to focus on homework for the next few hours, but I’m haunted by my mother’s words.“I lied.”Is lying okay if it’s done in the name of protecting someone you care about? The answer to me is an obvious and resounding no. Honesty is the best policy, even if it’s hurtful. The person I learned that from was my mom, which makes this even more of a slap in the face.
By the time my shift ends and I’ve met Jade at the ATZ house, I’m dying for a drink. I’ve almost forgotten why I’m doing this, but Jade insists I show her the picture of Sexy Shakespeare then screenshot and send it to her. She squeals, jumping up and down, and her enthusiasm chips away at my frustration.
Focus on the task at hand, Jessie. Tonight you’re just a girl looking for a boy who made her feel like a million bucks.
The house smells like cheap beer and strong vodka, and my ears are already hurting from the cacophony of music and drunken screams. Jade and I split up. I go to the basement and she goes upstairs. I don’t have a lot of luck showing drunk people the blurry photo of a costumed man, asking if anyone recognizes him from a Halloween party. I get a lot of “I don’t know” and “maybe” and just straight-up “nope.” Wasn’t expecting much from the basement people anyway.
I head back to the main floor, reeking slightly of smoke and sweatier than I was twenty minutes ago. I don’t see Jade, so I wander around, stopping everyone and asking if they recognize the guy. More rejection on top of rejection, and after another half-hour I’m officially discouraged.
On top of everything with my mom tonight this is the last thing I need. I’m about to text Jade and tell her the search is over and my hopes are dashed on the rocks when I realize I missed a room. A few guys trickle out of a door off to the side: the frat study room. Who knows how much studying actually gets done in there? But this room is my last chance.
I steel myself with a deep breath.
The door is cracked, and I push it the rest of the way open. The whole room is so out of place in a frat house. It kind of looks like it should be a sitting room inPride and Prejudiceinstead of a home that regularly reeks of Bud Light. There’s a wall of books, and I think they’re actually real. There’s art on the walls too, although that is definitely not real. At least I hope it isn’t. Four guys sit at the table, but no books are out, and there is definitely no studying going on, mostly just cigar-smoking.
“Mac?” My stomach lurches up to my throat.Am I excited to see him?
I haven’t finished processing our interaction at the library last night. The flirting, the banter, how his voice would get all low and sexy when he talked to me. And I certainly haven’t processed the way I fell asleep thinking about him and woke up thinking about him too. I’m emotionally unprepared to see him right now, but isn’t that just my life?
“Jessie? Hey, what are you—?”
“Mac, who’s the hottie?” one of the guys at the table asks.
I narrow my eyes, giving the guy an “Ew, back off” face.
He holds his hands up as if surrendering. “Whoa-hoa. Hottie with a ’tude, okay, okay.”
“He’s drunk—ignore him,” Mac says, and the guy stands, announcing to all of us he’s going to get another drink. Mac starts to follow him out.
“Hey, I’ll be back. Wait here, okay?”
I almost forget my mission, but when I glance down at my phone the photo is still pulled up, so I hold it out to the other guys at the table and ask if they recognize the guy in the photo. They shrug and shake their heads. All the hope inside of me shrivels up.
I need to just go home. This whole night has been a shit show. I start to text Jade, but Mac comes back with a couple of red Solo cups. He offers me one, and when I look into his dark caramel eyes, I know I’m not leaving. I’m going to stay here awhile even if it’s just to keep looking into those eyes.
Damn it, he’s handsome.
“What happened to your drunk friend?” I ask and take the cup, chugging the contents immediately. I click my phone off and stick it in my pocket.
“Got distracted by a ‘hottie.’”
“Oh, so it wasn’t just me.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
By the window at the far end of the room there’s a small side table and two chairs that belong in a teahouse, not a frat house. I follow Mac’s lead to the slightly quieter spot. We each take a chair, but Mac scoots his a little closer to mine.
“Shouldn’t you be off studying somewhere tonight?” he asks.
“My favorite place to pick up guys is at a frat house,” I say with my own smirk.
“Really? I assumed you picked up guys in the library.”
“Only on Fridays,” I say, fighting a smile at my own cleverness. Afraid he’ll continue this line of flirting and say something that flusters me, I change the subject. “Are you pledged here?”
“Nah, but a lot of my old soccer buddies are, so if I’m partying, which is not very often, it’s here. Plus, they have some of the best parties on The Row.”
