Page 18 of Bad Crush
“I need that scholarship.”
“But you also really don’t want to go on a date right now.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m struggling to feel sorry for you on the dating front,” I say. He cuts me a playful glare. “I’m sorry, but just pick someone you trust and try not to make too big of a deal of it. It’s just a date.”
Slowly, he nods. “Yeah, you’re right. Fuck. Thanks for listening to me bitch and moan and then telling me to get over myself.”
I smile. “Is that what I did?”
“You did, and I appreciate it. Do you want to order a pitcher and join the group?”
“Sure.”
We make small talk while the bartender gets the pitcher. I thank her and stand. I thought he’d meant we’d both go, but Adam doesn’t move from his stool. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Nah. Go have fun. I’m gonna finish this beer and then grab a ride home. I’ve got a date to find. Thanks, Rea.”
I pause, then finally force my feet to move. So much for seizing the day. Looks like I’ve seized it for someone else.
* * *
I’m still up,sitting in the living room long after we get back from the bar. Dakota’s in bed, so I keep the volume low on the TV. I’m only half paying attention anyway. My thoughts of Adam are interrupted only by my worries about the play. Cast announcements are in a few days and I don’t have a good gut instinct about it.
A light knock at the door pulls me from the TV. It’s so faint I think it might be at the guys’ place until it comes again.
I get up and walk to the door quietly, then peek out the peephole to find Adam on the other side. Dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, his feet are bare, and his hair looks like he’s been running his fingers through it.
I glance down at my outfit, decide there’s no time to change, and open the door. “Adam, hey. What are you doing here?”
“I wondered if I could talk to you? I know it’s late. Did I wake you?”
“No. I was up. Come in.”
He pads in a few steps and stops. Adam Scott is in my apartment. I can count the number of times he’s been here on one hand and never when it was just the two of us.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I ask and we stand awkwardly in the space between the living room and kitchen.
“No, I’m good.”
“Okay, well then, do you want to sit?”
I get a glass and pour water from the tap, mostly to give myself something to do. Adam sits on the couch next to the spot I just vacated.
“Were you studying?”
“No.” I take a seat and fold my legs up underneath me. “I’m a night owl. Late-night TV is like comfort food for me.”
“I prefer ice cream.” He rests his hands on his knees. “I apologize for barging in, but I couldn’t sleep, and I had an idea. What if you were my date to the mixer tomorrow night?”
“What?” I spill the water, curse, then set it on the coffee table. “Are you serious?”
Excitement and disappointment take turns soaring through my body.
“I was. I’m second-guessing myself right now though,” he says with a small laugh. He leans forward. “But hear me out. We had fun the other night and you’re the best actress I know. Those girls totally bought it. So, we do that except somewhere nicer with all my professors.”
“I’m the only actress you know, and that wasn’t exactly an Oscar-worthy performance. Playing flip cup and giving you a few flirty looks isn’t the same thing as fooling a scholarship committee.”
