Page 38 of High Sea Seduction

Freshman year has been an epic bust.

I arrived at UCLA believing my academic journey was going to take a U-turn from complete joke to crazy awesome. Instead, I found the cool kids still don’t want to hang out with me because my brain is too big to fit into 140 characters or Instagram shots of my breasts.

Only the nerds want to hang out with me. I pretend I’m cool with that. But deep down I wonder why the cool kidsstillhate me. My body has changed a lot in the last eighteen months. I’ve grown a couple more inches, and the sunshine in California has done wonders for my previously pasty skin. I’ll never pass for a bombshell, but with my dark blond hair and good-enough legs, I should be able to hold my own in the pretty stakes.

Instead, the moment I open my mouth, I can see the cool guys slowly recoiling. Fuck, I can virtually see the speech bubble pop out of out their ears, fanatically detailing various ways to get the hell away from me, fast.

This has bothered me to the point where I’ve contemplated dressing provocatively just to get some action. Which is pathetic because I’m nineteen in three weeks and as an almost adult I should know better. My parents are proud of my straight-A grades. I can be literally anything I want to be. My self-worth should be boundless. Instead, all I want is to be invited tooneparty, one trip to the beach. A movie. Anything.

Fuck my life.

“Hey, is the sci-fi newsletter ready yet?”

I jump and quickly slam shut my laptop, hiding the pictures of Leo Brummer I was ogling, as Jake Schimansky, my co-head of the debate and science-fiction society, plunks down next to me on the grass in the campus park. A quick glance at Jake doesn’t show signs that he saw what I was looking at. I sigh inwardly.

Leo.

I’m one wet dream away from doodling his name on my notebook and drawing a fluffy pink heart around it. I don’t even care that he’s a little shallow and wears T-shirts one size too small to emphasize his amazing body. He’s got it, and he makes no bones about flaunting it. And since I’m enjoying the fruits fromthattree, I ain’t complaining.

I dwell instead on the fateful way we met.

Although he’s majoring in film, TV and media, he’s a psychology minor, but has fallen behind because he’s also an actor and missed most of last semester’s classes because of shooting some action movie in Russia.

I didn’t even plan on going to the coffee shop that night. I was fed up with the guy behind the counter ogling my breasts and sneering every time I ordered green tea.

But I was super thirsty. And I needed a quiet place to brush up on my psych paper before the end of term test. My dorm room was out of the question since my oh-so-considerate roommate, Ashley, decided to invite people over for an impromptu party without telling me. Or inviting me.

Whatever. That evening, I’m deep into the dark, suggestive powers of my Id when Leo walks in and sits down at the next table.

His glance sweeps across the almost empty coffee shop, reaches me, and keeps going. Twisting in his seat, he reaches into his skintight jeans, pulls out his phone, and stabs the numbers with annoyed fingers. From where I sit, I can hear the ringing and the female voice that answers.

“Where the hell are you?” he rasps.

Yeah, don’t even get me started about Leo’s voice. The only way I can describe it is to think of dripping wild honey over tiny smooth pebbles and rolling them all over your skin.

Fuck.

I jump when he snaps, “What the hell do you mean you’re not coming? I don’t have time for this shit, Tammie. You promised you’d help me with this paper. I’ve already paid you five hundred for your time, goddamn it. So get your ass over here right now and earn it, or I swear to God?—”

I hear a bitchy rant and a crude suggestion before the line goes dead.

I’m embarrassed for him. So embarrassed I want to hug him. Slide my fingers into those waxy blond spikes. Pet that fine body of his and make all his troubles melt away.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck,fuck!” His scowl deepens as he presses the number again and listens to the endless ring tone. Another round of swearing ensues before he yanks his books off the table.

I know this is my one and only chance. So I clear my throat. Loudly. He doesn’t even look my way. “Hey, umm, listen, if you need help with the paper, I can, you know… help you?”

Jesus, fuck. I’m the co-captain of the debate team, for God’s sake, and I can’t string three words together to form a simple sentence?

He glances up and my breath squeezes in my lungs. Shit, he looks even better wearing that adorable scowl!

“And you are?” he drawls in a couldn’t-care-less tone.

I try not to be crushed by the fact that we’ve been in the same psyche class for a semester and a half and he hasn’t noticed me.

“I’m Keely Benson. I’m in Professor Harding’s class.”

His face de-scowls a little, but he keeps fiddling with his phone, obviously still annoyed that his tutor has abandoned him. I mentally shake my head. Who would deliberately do that? I guess they’re both stupidandblind.

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