Page 42 of Blocked Score

“To smash the block button when I see one of your videos show up on my feed? About half a second.”

The guy blinks dumbly, the joke at his expense once again zooming over his curly hair, before turning to his two buddies and saying, “We’re not getting any good footage here, let’s try somewhere else.”

It’s finally my turn to order when they leave. I decide to embrace extremes, ordering one slice of veggie pizza and one slice of meat lover’s. When I get my slices, I’m lucky enough to find a small two-seater booth free in the back corner of the crowded parlor.

After taking my first bite, I look up to see the girl in the sweet leather jacket holding her own white paper plate and craning her neck, looking around for an open seat. I raise my hand and wave to her.

I enjoyed her mentally fly swatting those goofs and would be glad to have her company while I eat.

She flashes me a quick smile and walks over.

“I wonder if they’ll upload that interview,” I quip to her when she sits down.

A small laugh sounds in her throat. “I actually might not mind if they did.”

I shake my head as I chew another piece of pizza. “What happened to the world that made people think it’s okay to walk up, shove a camera and microphone in someone’s face, and ask questions about their sex life?”

“I guess it’s the slow-motion disintegration of the social contract that’s been going on, oh, about since we’ve been born.”

I laugh, liking this chick’s sense of humor. “Yeah, that’ll do it.”

“Harper, by the way,” she introduces herself.

I smile. “Scarlett.”

She rips a mouthful off her pizza, and when she’s finished chewing, she asks, “So, Scarlett, what makes a girl like you join a girl like me in the ranks of eating out alone on a Friday night?”

I chuckle and shrug. “My roommates are out of town, and they’re really the only ones I know here so far. I just transferred in this semester. How about you?”

She bounces her eyebrows sardonically. “I was out with a friend, but she ended up talking to this guy who started hitting on her. Instead of hanging around and drinking alone, I decided to get something to eat and go home.”

I shake my head ruefully as I swallow another bite. “Yeah, I’ve been there before.”

“I don’t mean to sound like a bitter spinster, though I’m probably in training to be one at this point,” Harper says, and I sputter a laugh at her self-deprecating side, “but, like, is it selfish to want a night out with your friends now and then that’s about actually hanging out together, not just a means to an end of hooking up?”

“Exactly!” I exclaim. “Is a penis-less night out just having fun with your friends too much to ask?”

Harper holds up her open can of ginger ale. “To penis-less nights,” she toasts.

“To penis-less nights,” I knock my can of flavored sparkling water against hers.

I can already tell that Harper’s totally the kind of girl I’d love to hang out with more. As a matter of fact …

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” I ask.

“Not really. Why?”

“Well, long story short, my old apartment flooded and ruined all my shoes. I need to scour the local stores to assemble a new collection, and that’s always more fun to do with a partner.”

She gives me a smile. “Yeah, sounds fun. I could use a new pair myself.”

I hold out my pinky toward her. “And no penises?”

She laughs, linking her digit with mine to pinky swear. “No penises. Only shoes.”

21

SCARLETT

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