Page 43 of Crazy Pucking Love
During one of our chats, she asked about my checklist. I’d explained why I felt the need for it, and told her I was considering a change when it came to number five.
Vanessa shoved the clothes in her closet aside and dug through the shoes on the floor, her voice coming out muffled since she was faced away from me. “Didn’t you say you’d decided to be more open to seizing the moment?”
I had, but full disclosure, we’d also shared a cheap bottle of wine, and combined with barely sleeping this week, my decision skills had been subpar at best. “I saidmaybeI should.”
She spun around, her fingers hooked on a pair of patent leather black pumps. “And I said ‘hell yeah, you should.’ I’m not talking about hooking up with the first guy who steps into your path. But if a cute guy comes along, and you feel that attraction building, seize that hottie. Even if it’s just some grinding on the dance floor or a little making out.”
Heat flared across my cheeks at the thought, but it wasn’t all embarrassment. Some of it was intrigue, longing.
Vanessa stepped into her heels, adding four inches to her tall, skinny frame. “Megan, you can’t pine the semester away on a guy who just wants to be friends. Does that mean you’re not even going to kiss anyone your first semester of college? What kind of fresh start is that?”
My heart sank at that depressing thought—I worried Dane had ruined me for kissing other guys, but I wouldn’t know unless I tested that theory, would I?
“Do the math—the mathyouinsisted on rattling off last night, when I was way too drunk to make sense of it.” She spritzed perfume in the air and walked through the cloud, coming out the other side smelling of jasmine and vanilla. “All I remember was your odds for the potential boyfriend thing were shit.”
Between the one third of seniors who’d been on fewer than two actual dates, the 72 percent who’d hooked up, and the 25 percent of who were still virgins—this all according to the tortuous Surprising College Statistics article I couldn’t stop pulling up—that left 3 percent who were in that potential committed-relationship range. And considering at least half of them were probably women, yeah… Not great odds.
“What?” I leaned against my bed and crossed my ankles. “You want me to say that you’re right?Iprovided you the facts, so I know you’re right.”
Guess it’s time to jump and make a bolder move with better odds—after all, math has never failed me before.
Gripping on to the excitement-inducing buzz building inside of me, I grabbed a Sharpie and my list, blacked out “Find a guy with boyfriend potential,” and wrote “Enjoy being young and unattached.”
All the qualifications got a big X, and then I scribbled, “Seize at least one hottie.”
Vanessa beamed at me and even dramatically flung a hand over her heart. “I’m so proud. Trust me, you’ll only feel worse if you dwell on the one guy you can’t have.”
Dwelling on Dane and how I couldn’t have him certainly hadn’t made me feel great. I liked the friendship place we were getting back to, though. Honestly, this seemed like a good solution. I got an awesome friend with a great sense of humor, who was loyal, and had a lot in common with me. With him, Vanessa, Lyla, and my brother, I didn’t have bouts of crushing loneliness, and avoiding that had been my main reason for adding the boyfriend thing.
So now I could have some causal, flirty fun with someone else. Win, win.
…
The hockey team won, but I hadn’t stuck around to congratulate them, since Vanessa told me that might come across as desperate. Instead I sent a congratulatory text to Beckett, and one to Dane with an added line about catching him later, and then Vanessa and I headed to the Quad. Once there, my roommate informed me I had to flirt with at least two guys to prove I was making progress on my new goal. Who was I to question her methods? Plus, I needed a bit of a push once faced with actual living, breathing dudes, and no doubt she’d seen the wild, about-to-abort look in my eye.
I flirted with boy number one, but when it came down to it, there wasn’t much of a spark. Vanessa and I were on the dance floor when she leaned in and whispered, “Hottie at two o’clock keeps checking you out.”
I bobbed my head to the beat, swaying for a couple of seconds before letting my gaze drift to two o’clock.
I meant to keep on sweeping past him, but he shot me a sexy smile, and for the first time since arriving in Boston, I experienced a swirl of attraction over someone other than Dane.
The guy walked toward me with long assured strides. “Hi. I’m Trevor.”
“I’m Megan.” I tilted my head at my roommate. “This is Vanessa.”
“Can I get you ladies a drink?”
“Actually, one of my friends just came through the door. I’m going to go say hi.” Vanessa placed her hand on my shoulder as she leaned in and whispered, “Just text if you need me, and I’ll come crashing back in like the Kool-Aid man.”
I turned to Trevor, hoping my smile was more flirty than crazy-girl-on-a mission. “Guess it’s just you and me, then.”
His smiled widened and a flutter went through my stomach. “Perfect.”
We grabbed a couple of drinks and then leaned against the wall. Trevor played football for the college, and commented that he still trained enough to keep him plenty busy, but he was also focusing on his classes.
The “So I don’t have time for anything serious” was implied, but since I was no longer worried about that, I told him my life was hectic right now, too—he seemed to like that. When I confessed my interest in math and engineering, he ran his hand down my arm, just a quick brush of his fingertips that made my skin hum, and told me he thought smart girls were sexy.
He asked me to dance, and there was no holding back on his part, none of the complications I experienced whenever I got close to the guy I wassonot going to think about right now.
