Page 7 of The Casanova Complex

Obviously, past Merritt was blinded by his ridiculously attractive face and charm, but current Merritt would never fall for that shit.

Some lessons have to be learned the hard way though.

The first one being to stop letting my best friends drag me to parties that I have zero desire to be at.

They dragged me to a frat party, and despite that, it was fun. We spent the night drinking and dancing, flirting with hot fuckboys.

Then there was Bennett, strolling through the party like he owned the place, oozing this confidence that can’t be faked.

And I fell right into his trap.

He said all the right things, tucked my hair behind my ears like some ’90s heartthrob as he grinned down at me, so assured and at ease despite being surrounded by frat bros and the smell of stale beer.

When he kissed me, it felt like I’d never been kissed before.

Of course, I actually had been kissed before. I wasn’t a virgin by any means, and I’d obviously had my share of fun since starting OU.

We ended up upstairs, and… I’ll save all of the painful details for… never.

I don’t actually want to relive that night ever again.

To make a painfully long story short, I thought I was about to have the best sex of my life if the way he kissed was any indication.

Except he couldn’t… you know, get it up.

I mean, it was a semi at best, but how embarrassing is it that you’re standing naked in front of a guy only for him to not even be affected?

It was the most mortifying moment of my life.

I wanted this guy, and he so clearly didn’t want me, even if for some reason he was pretending to.

I got dressed faster than I ever have in my life and left him there with what was left of my shattered pride and went back to the party like nothing had happened.

Later that night, I saw him making out with a different girl. He never even noticed when I walked by, too lost in the curvy brunette’s throat he had his tongue down.

So. Fucking. Gross.

To make it even worse—yes, that actually is possible—after that night… he walked right past me on campus like it had never happened. Not even a wave after nearly having his dick inside me that night. I thought maybe he’d at least apologize for how things went down when we ended up in this class together, but not once in the two years since it happened has he so much as looked my way.

Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me, and I would not be giving Bennett Legros the chance to fool me ever again.

I’m far too smart for that.

“Okay, everyone, that’s about it for today,” Professor Hart says from the podium, adjusting the thick brown glasses sitting along her nose. She peers over the tops of the lenses. “As you know, we’ve been gearing up this semester to start your thesis project, and I’m pleased to announce that your project will be centered around classic literature.”

Okay, that feels… safe.

“You’ll be assigned a classic to read and interpret, then create your own short story rendition that encapsulates what the core of the novel was. A fiction story of your own. But to put a little twist on things… you’ll do so with a partner of my choosing. Each of you will write your novella from a different point of view. Tonight, I’ll be emailing everyone their assigned novel as well as your assigned partners. The point of this is that you and your partner work together to craft a story that feels cohesive, despite being written by two different voices. You get creative with a classic.”

A flurry of conversation flits around the room, a combination of excitement and apprehension.

Shit. Why did I choose Creative Writing as an elective?

I sigh.

Because my course load is heavy this year, and it looks good on my law application. And because it’s supposed to be helpful when working on briefs to strengthen my writing.

But I loathe partner projects, and I hate ones like this even more.