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Damn. Psycho girl.
Rubbing at my aching eyes, I try to think how to reach her, let her know I didn’t miss our meeting on purpose, then realize we have class tomorrow together, so I’ll set this right.
It’s not until much later that I realize JC mentioned my nightmares, even though I didn’t say anything about them.
How did he know?
What the hell did I do?
The next day I head to Calculus class, dragging my feet because last night wasn’t great, either—once the nightmares start, they take a few nights to play out—determined to find her and apologize.
She’s so sweet, and funny, and even sexier up close. I loved hearing her adventures at work and about the exchanges with her bestie. When she laughs… Damn. It makes me wanna shove her up against a wall kiss her, sink into her.
Insta-boner.
But it’s more than that… I like her. I like her humor, her sarcasm, and the fact that her doubts resonate with mine.
You barely know her, a grumpy little voice hisses in the back of my mind as I cross the college campus. You don’t even know where she works. Or lives. You probably know her even less than you know your mysterious, reclusive roommate.
A sudden fear hits me as I approach the classroom—that sitting down with her, talking to her was all a dream.
A small crowd of students is waiting outside the classroom, and I scan the heads for her dark ponytail. A couple of girls wave and move toward me, but I step back, impatient to find her. Chicks dig me, and that’s fine, but there’s only one girl on my mind.
And there she is.
Something jolts in my chest when I spot her. She’s standing away from the crowding students, eyes fixed on her phone, her soft lips pursed and shoulders hunched.
Frowning, wondering what’s wrong, I walk toward her. She’s back to wearing a dress and pumps. I liked her spunky style more, the torn jeans and long sweaters she had on the last few times, the sneakers and funny cat T-shirts.
She likes cats. Does she like dogs, too? Does she like videogames, and Kurt Vonnegut’s novels, and what about ecology and air pollution? Does she like licorice? Does she hate avocados? Can she stand classical music?
I didn’t ask.
I’ll set that straight. So much I wanna know about her. This time, I’ll come right out and ask her if she wants to go for drinks, go to the movies, spend more time together.
Go out with me.
As I approach, she lifts her gaze to me and my breath catches. I expect a smile, a nod, any sign of acknowledgment, but she just looks back down at her phone.
My steps falter. It can’t be so bad, can it? I can fix this.
“Hey.” I shoot her a grin. “How’s it going today?”
Her gaze flickers at me again, and she frowns. “Hey.”
Just that.
I snort a little, run my hand through my hair, tug a little to ground myself. “Is this how it’s gonna be?”
This time she looks annoyed. “What are you talking about?”
“The coffee. What did you think I was talking about? Look, I’m sorry, okay? About yesterday.”
She huffs. “Did you want something?”
Ow. Okay, this isn’t good. And where’s that light in her eyes that drew me before? She’s the same and yet she looks so different today.
I swallow hard, grimace. “Try again?”
