A virgin who isn’t tangled up in her feelings. She’s not looking for an attachment or a boyfriend or a guy who can sweep her off her feet.
Quinn’s only looking for one night.
Even I can do one night without screwing it up.
Without losing my focus.
Nothing has to change. We do this and we go our separate ways.
Quinn, back to whatever it is she does in her free time and me back to football.
Back to an undefeated season with an eye on the championship game. On the draft. On the future.
I can’t believe I’m even considering this.
It goes against every rule I have for hookups. But that doesn’t stop my fingers from flying over the screen as I type my reply.
Me: Would next Saturday work?
It’s nearly two weeks away. Plenty of time for one of us to come to our senses.
Padawan: It’s Homecoming. Might be hard to get a room.
Not for me. I’ve already reserved a suite at The Wildcat Inn, the nicest hotel in town. I book one every year just in case my parents decide to come watch me play. At least this year the reservation won’t go to waste.
Me: Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.
22
QUINN
“Thankyou for supporting the fight against childhood cancer.” I hand over three softballs in exchange for a crumpled five-dollar bill. Then I stuff the cash in my apron pocket and step back to watch as the newcomer approaches the dunk tank.
May the force be with you.
I’ve been at this for nearly an hour, and I have yet to see anyone dunk the Sig inside.
Still, we’re raising money for a good cause, and that’s what matters.
It’s Wednesday night and the HoCo carnival is in full swing. The carnival is one of my favorite Waverly traditions. The HUB lawn is filled with booths offering snacks, games, and even a smattering of rides. Each booth is run by a student organization and all the money raised is donated to charity.
It’s noisy and nostalgic and always a good time.
A catchy song blasts from the K-Pop Music and Dance booth next door and the scent of caramel corn permeates the air, making my mouth water.
I’d kill to be wandering the lawn with Haley, stuffing my face with deep fried goodness, but Noah roped me into covering his shift at the dunk tank so he could get in line for the Tri Delt kissing booth.
I should have known better than to believe him when he promised he’d only be gone for a few minutes.
The line for the kissing booth stretches so far down the crowded aisle I can’t see the end.
My line is abysmal by comparison.
Which is shocking because aren’t there a ton of women on campus who’d enjoy dunking obnoxious frat boys?
Says the girl who’s planning to lose her virginity to one.
Nervous energy coils low in my belly.
