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Me: Well, I love to watch shows about serial killers. Keeps things interesting.
Hotshot: Should I be worried?
Me: You should always be worried.
Hotshot: Your roommates there?
Me: Date night.
Hotshot: What if I came by?
My heart pitter-patters in my chest, my stomach clenching in excitement at his words.
In the last couple of weeks, we’ve been hanging out more. Yes, our hanging out always ended up with us naked in one of our beds, but it was more than that.
I liked it.
I was starting to likehim.
Liked spending time with him.
Although it might not seem that way at first, Prescott was a good listener. And he was wicked smart. I’ve seen how hard he works, not just out on the field but also when it comes to his degree. He was dedicated, and I was sure one day he’d make a good doctor.
And I wasn’t sure what to think about that.
Me: My stomach hurts, I think I might get my period soon.
Hotshot: Okay so?
Me: So we can’t have sex. No point in you coming. Just sex, remember?
Hotshot: Well, if you want to be technical about it, we could have sex.
He can’t be serious, right? That’s his reasoning? Technically?
Me: You’re joking, right?
Hotshot: I’m just saying it as it is.
Hotshot: You know,technically.
Me: Well, when youtechnicallyhave your ovaries explode inside your body once a month, let me know so we can talk about technicalities.
Hotshot: Touchy.
Hotshot: I didn’t take you for one of those ultra hormonal girls, but I guess I got one more thing wrong. Oh well…
Me: You want me to put my tv show watching skills to use?
Hotshot: Not particularly. No.
Me: Good.
Me: Don’t you have anything better to do?
Hotshot: Not right now.
Me: You should go out. It’s Friday night. I’m sure some of your teammates are out partying.
