“Vadika.”
“Since when did you become besties with Ryan Gardner?”
“It isn’t—”
“It’s not like that?” My friend was unconvinced as she filled in my all-too-obvious retort. I raised my eyebrows, unamused.
“Was this a hookup? In the library?” Vadika rambled with renewed excitement, clutching her bag of chips to her chest. “I mean, I always figured you were kinkier than you let on, but wow. That’s a whole new level. I don’t think I could do it without panicking about the cameras or some weird janitor stumbling across me and whoever. Like, what if he got off on that and just—ew. No.”
“Vadika.” I repeated her name once more. This time slowly.
She slumped. “Yes?”
“Are you ready to hear me now?”
“More than. Tell me everything.”
“All right,” I said slowly, taking a deep breath as she literally sat on the edge of her seat. “Nothing happened.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Doubtful. I thought you didn’t like Ryan. Didn’t he say something rude to you before? That’s what it was, wasn’t it? Or have you two been having some sort of affair I haven’t noticed all this time because I’ve been stuck in a sterile wonderland?” Vadika glanced around, slouching back in her plastic seat as she reached for another bite of her lunch.
“There is not and never has been any affair. Ever.”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” I assured her.
She sighed, pushing up her protective glasses. “I’m not going to lie, Lu. I’m a little disappointed.”
I chuckled with a shake of my head.
“So, whathasbeen going on with everything I’ve been hearing? It isn’t every day I hear that the football star and weird, witchy girl were getting it on in the library. Or did all thatlibrary companiongossip not happen either?”
“That’s really what they’ve been saying?”
“In so many words,” she admitted.
I had a feeling I knew which.
Oh gods.“It really was nothing. I bumped into Ryan when I was at the dean’s office and then again when I was walking. He was the one who showed up in my spot in the library. Apparently, my reputation wasn’t only as a witchy chick, but also as a major failure who’s taken over half of the Barnett course catalog.”
“That’s not true.”
I raised my eyebrows. We both knew it was true enough.
“And?” My friend waved her hand for me to keep going. She was unwilling to let us get off track.
“And he wanted me to basically walk him step by step through an essay for the British literature professor he’s taking this year.”
“The one with the Brontë obsession last year?”
That was the one.
“What’s his major anyway?”
