Page 23 of Breakaway Goal

“Becauseduh.” Jasmine exclaims, gesturing toward me.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, right.”

Jasmine makes a disappointed sound in her throat. “Girl, I don’t know how you’re still talking yourself down like that. You’re beautiful, smart, talented, and I’d bet everything I own, even my Hello Kitty pencil, that no fewer than ninety-seven percent of guys at this school would kill for a chance to date you.”

I open my mouth, my instinct to protest cresting inside me—but I stop myself.

All summer, I was looking forward to this semester as the start of a new, better chapter in my life.

A second chance at a real, memorable college experience that I was so painfully conscious of missing out on last year.

But if I really want to make this a new chapter in my life, instead of just a new paragraph, I need to actively work on myself. I can’t let my own lack of confidence and my silly, one-sided yearning for my brother’s best friend keep holding me back from experiencing what I’ve been missing out on.

“You’re right.” I utter those words decisively, nodding my head.

Jasmine stops in the middle of a sip of wine. “Wait, wait.” She grabs her phone and points the camera at me. “Say that again, for the record.”

I sputter a laugh. “You’re right, Jasmine.”

“I’m going to get alotof use out of that video.”

I shake my head, knowing full well she isn’t lying. I take a big sip of wine. Fortified by the warmth of the wine spreading through me, I make a declaration.

“I’m going to make it happen this semester. No more excuses.”

Interest twinkles in Jasmine’s eyes as she lifts a brow. “With the cute art guy you mean?”

“Maybe. Withsomecute guy, art or not. I want my first kiss already, darn it. My first fling. My first hookup. I’m ready to finally lose this V-card and experience what I’ve been missing out on.”

Excitement lights up Jasmine’s face. “Girl, I am so here for it. But,” her tone momentarily becomes more serious, “you know there’s nothing wrong with still being a virgin, right? You’re ready whenyou’reready, not when society says you should be.”

“I know that. But I am ready.”

Ready as I’ll ever be, considering the guy I’m holding a candle for is never going to think of me as anything but a friend.

Jasmine claps her hands, letting herself get excited for me again. “Girl, we are going to get yousolaid this semester.”

Our laughter fills up the cozy space of our silly little pillow fort.

Excitement and anticipation ripple through me; but at the same time, there’s a twinge of disappointment and apprehension that settles low in my belly.

It’s a familiar feeling, the same feeling I get when I picture myself with any guy—any guy except for one.

That one guy is in this house, upstairs in his bedroom right now.

I know I need to get over that feeling. Because that one guy might invite me into that room of his to hang out, to talk, to listen to music—but he’d never invite me into his bed.

11

RHYS

“Man, doesn’t it feel like old times or some shit?” Lane says.

We’re sitting on the edge of his bed, both of us with game controllers in our hands, playing a first-person shooter that we used to spend all night playing back when we were in high school.

“Right?” I agree with a laugh. “Us playing this game. Your sister and her friend basically having a sleepover downstairs. Feels like we’re in tenth grade again.”

“You’re about to really feel like we’re in tenth grade again,” Lane says, an ominous note in his voice.

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