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“Fine.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket and starts typing. “I’m texting Rafael and telling him to tell Tim.”

“Perfect.” This is dumb. Like we’re playing the telephone game as if we’re in kindergarten, yet we’re in college.

“Okay done.” I hear the swoosh of a text being sent and she heads over to her tiny dresser. “I need to take a shower.”

I knew she was still covered with sex sweat. I need to wash my comforter, but the laundry facility we use is subpar. It’ll take like twenty dollars and hours of my time monitoring the machines to make sure it’s washed and dried properly.

Gross.

The moment Elise leaves our room to go shower, I grab my laptop and attempt to finish my ethics paper, but I’m too distracted. I keep thinking about what she said. What Tim and Rafael think of me and I…

I hate it.

I don’t mean to be intimidating. I would’ve never described myself with that word at all. I’m the one who’s intimidated by others and have been since I was a kid. Especially with bullies who do their best to torment me and make my life miserable.

Not able to shake my frustration, I grab my phone and send a text to Tim, deciding to be upfront with him. There’s no point in playing games. He needs to know how I feel.

Me:You shouldn’t be so intimidated by me that you can’t ask me to the game.

The moment the text is sent, I’m filled with regret. I was probably way too pushy, saying that. He might think I’m a complete bitch. Maybe I am a complete bitch.

Closing my eyes, I thunk the back of my head against the headboard once. Twice. I am an utter failure when it comes to this dating stuff.

My phone vibrates in my hand and I nearly drop it in my eagerness to see if it’s from Tim. And it is.

Tim:I didn’t want Elise to tell you that.

Hmm. I take his response as a good sign.

Me:Well she did and I hate that you feel that way.

Tim:I don’t feel that way all the time. Just…

Me:Most of the time?

Tim:Yeah.

Me:Now’s your chance to ask me. So ask me.

He doesn’t respond for what feels like hours. I’m gnawing on my lower lip, stressed the hell out while waiting for him to say something. Anything. And finally, he does.

Tim:Hey, Sinclair. Want to go to the game with me tonight?

Smiling, I tap out my answer.

Me:I would love to.

Chapter Twelve

AUGUST

I’m minding my business in the front living room of the frat house on a late Saturday afternoon, quietly mulling over my life decisions and wondering if I’ve completely lost my mind. Why do I feel this way? Maybe it’s because I’m currently spying on two idiot freshmen talking about their date plans for the night when normally I wouldn’t give a damn what these fools are doing.

“She called you out on your shit, huh? I told you Elise would tell her.” The one guy with the light blond hair is a bit of a dunce, but not as bad as Tim.

“Elise promised she wouldn’t!” Poor Timmy. He sounds completely butt hurt.

“They’re roommates and that chick is Elise’s best friend. She tells her everything.”