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“That stuff’s great,” I agree, nearly tripping over the lie. “Sorry, gotta run!”
I scurry toward the exit with Ken keeping pace the whole way.
“I like the smell of nail polish, too!” he whispers. “Sometimes, I linger outside the nail shop pretending I’m waiting for someone so I can breathe in the fumes.”
“That’s . . .” I want to say deeply messed up but instead I choke out, “cool.”
Ken’s head bobs a few times. “I knew we had a lot in common.”
Sticky skirt or not, I can’t get out of there fast enough. I take a few backward steps toward the exit, putting some much-needed distance between us. “I’m late for class.”
Leaving Ken open-mouthed in the doorway, I make a break for it, sprinting toward the quad.
Professor Bannon gives me a dirty look when I slip into physics a few minutes late, but other than his weak scowl, the rest of class goes smoothly. Despite all the crazy going on in my life, I actually studied for the practice midterm, and I’m pretty sure I nailed it. By the time the class ends, my encounter with creepy Ken is all but forgotten. Only a few more hours before I can sneak off for some alone time with Jordan.
When I get to calculus, Caleb’s waiting for me, turned sideways in his seat, his open posture inviting me to sit on his lap. “Wasn’t sure you’d show up.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Lunch was . . . intense.”
My attention shifts to Nicole’s skirt, and for the first time since lunch, I wonder if leather is machine washable. “A bit.”
“Are you still, uh, wet?” Caleb licks his lips, making my skin itch and my stomach curdle.
Not about to share the status of my underwear with Caleb, I discreetly run my fingers over my lap. The leather is basically dry, just slightly discolored where the lemonade soaked in. “It’ll be fine. I only have one more class after this.”
Caleb scoots his desk closer. “I can walk you, if you like?”
Before I have the chance to say no, my phone buzzes inside my bag, and I dig it out, groaning at the words staring back at me.
I can still taste your lips.
The next few hours will be torture.
23
Bright and early Wednesday morning, a loud thumping rips me from the best dream ever as Kanye’s “Famous” blasts from Nicole’s phone.
“Time to wake up, sleepyhead!” Nicole cackles from the bathroom doorway. “You overslept. Lucky I was still here.”
She cranks up the volume, singing along with the obnoxious lyrics.
Cursing Nicole’s sick sense of humor, I fly out of bed in a mad dash to get ready and shove past her to confiscate the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, I dash down the stairs to discover Nicole ushering Jordan inside.
My smile melts like ice cream on a hot day as I shift my gaze between Jordan’s sexy pout and Nicole’s freshly touched-up lavender hair and matching lipstick.
“Look who I found.” She arches a dark brow.
My steps falter. “Did I not mention Jordan was picking me up?”
“No.” Her lips curve into an innocent grin, but I suspect she knew all along. “You didn’t.”
“Oh. Well, he’s walking me to campus.”
“Sorry.” Nicole throws a smirk over her shoulder. “Not happening.”
Jordan stuffs his hands into his front pockets and mutters something unintelligible under his breath.
