Page 11 of Give In

That didn’t mean I got hit on a lot, though.

When it did happen, it was never the type of guy I was into. My girl next door looks meant I attracted good guys in khakis and polo shirts. Boys who tucked their t-shirts into their jeans. Ones who likely owned pastels, romp-hims, and more hair products than me. There was nothing wrong with them, per se, but they weren’t my type. And if they knew I was a stripper, I wouldn’t be their type anymore, either.

Going to see a stripper?

Yes.

Fucking one?

Definitely.

Dating?

Big fat no.

I barely had time to breathe, let alone date or do… other things, so it was a moot point.

As Professor Caine began his lesson, Brooks took his new seat next to me. He wrote his email address down and passed the paper my way, whispering, “For the notes. And I’ll email mine if you’re ever out. We could get together to study, if you wanted.”

“Thanks,” I whispered back. “My free time is pretty limited, but that’d be cool.”

“Something important Mr. Crosby? Miss Wilder?” Professor Caine asked suddenly.

Everyone in the class turned to stare at us.

I may have been used to people’s eyes on me, but not like that. My face heated, burning as my stomach flipped.

“Nope, we’re good,” Brooks answered casually.

“Let’s try to hold the note passing and whispers until after class then.” Skewering me with a glare, he turned and continued his lecture. “As I wassaying…”

Well, this day keeps getting better and better.

*******

“Why don’t you come out with us?” Tonia, my roommate, pressed her bottom lip out, amping up the dramatics of her pleading tone. “You’re off work, you deserve a break.”

When I’d first moved, I’d bounced around a lot because of roommate or landlord drama—or roommateandlandlord drama. I’d finally lucked into a cheap two-bedroom place that I shared with Tonia. After so many batshit crazy roommates, she was a goddess. We got along well, though we rarely saw each other.

I laughed at her pouty face. “Tuesdays are when I get caught up, and I’m freakin’ swamped. Go. Have fun.”

Sitting on the living room floor, she finished painting her nails and started blowing on them, pausing to say, “One of these days you’ll have to pretend you’re not a ninety-year-old lady in the body of a twenty-two-year-old.”

“One day,” I agreed, feeling both wishful and noncommittal. “I’m just behind, which is making me anxious. I wouldn’t be much fun.”

“Sooo…” She glanced up at me, smiling with fake innocence. “Brooks, huh?”

My brows lowered. “What about him?”

“Keith, this guy I see sometimes, was telling me all about his friend who has the hots for my shy, workaholic roomie.”

Ha. Yeah, the shy stripper. That’s me.

“Basically,” she continued, “he said Brooks thinks you’re a hottie, but he thought you were blowing him off. I hope you don’t mind, I told Keith to tell him you actually do work too much.”

“That’s fine,” I said, though I wondered if it would’ve been easier to just let things be. It wasn’t as if I had time to date, so nothing really changed by him knowing I hadn’t been a liar.

Although, with as much as I did lie, it was kind of nice to have one of my few truths confirmed.

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