When we reach Tasker Hall, Cal gives Brady some sort of fist bump goodbye and announces, “I’m going for a run.”
Run? The sun is just rising. I plan to sleep until my eleven o’clock class and hopefully forget all about my make out sesh with Cal.
Chapter Three
Day One After “The Kiss”
It’s my final class of the day and I’ve saved the best for last—Comparative Literature with the oh-so dreamy Professor Colin McClure leading it. While I’m a geek for the classics, typically I prefer nineteenth-century British novels. However, I gladly made the exception for him. I’d sign up for whatever class Professor McClure was teaching just so I could stare at him, like I’m doing now.
Wrapping up one of his more passionate lectures, Professor “McCutie” paces while addressing me. All right, he’s speaking to all twenty-two of his students, but a girl can dream. And while I’m enjoying his discussion on Faulkner, I love looking at McClure more. Tall with dark hair and a lean build, he reminds me of Jude Law in The Holiday, exuding both elegance and sophistication. I literally sigh as I try to concentrate on what he’s saying.
We were supposed to be done several minutes ago, but no one seems to be in a hurry to have him stop. Given that our class is 90 percent female, it comes as no surprise. In fact, even my friend Emerson who’s majoring in biology chose this course for her English requirement and then we both convinced Jax too. I turn in my seat to see Emerson staring dreamily ahead too. Jax on the other hand is busy on her phone, which she has hidden behind her propped up book that I know she hasn’t bothered to read beyond the cliff notes.
I close my notebook and focus on McClure’s ever-present five-o’clock shadow and it reminds me of Cal’s. They are probably the same height even.
Nope, don’t go there, April! Stop thinking about him.
My body isn’t going along with the plan, though, and I wiggle in my seat. Professor McClure gives me a stern look, and I stop my fidgeting at once. He glances at the clock behind him and, seeing the time, dismisses us. I only wish my thoughts of Cal could be dismissed as easily.
When I arrive back at my dorm room, I come to an abrupt stop in front of my door. A pile of Hershey’s Kisses is stacked on my “Go Away, I’m Reading!” doormat. I glance up and down the hallway, but I know perfectly well who left these for me. I check the impulse to kick them toward his door, but then realize they are my favorite—dark chocolate. So, instead of tossing them out, I grumble and collect the handful of kisses, then go inside without comment. At least I’ve prevented Cal from having the satisfaction of seeing me react, I reason while unwrapping a chocolate. It tastes almost as good as Cal’s actual kiss did.
It was just one kiss. Stop being so pathetic!
But what a freakin’ kiss it was. I pop another candy in my mouth, but it’s not providing the same satisfaction it once did. Just great. Cal has now ruined these kinds of kisses for me, too.
Chapter Four
Day Two Post Meteor Mistake
Arghh! The aggravation that is Cal Chase knows no bounds. It’s like sharing a room with an annoying little brother or something. Not that I would know, being an only child, but from the complaints of my friends growing up, it’s no picnic having siblings sometimes. Still, for all their grievances, I was always a bit jealous of their bonds and the beautiful chaos I’d witness whenever I’d sleep over at their houses. I’d join in on the teasing and family board games and wish for a little sister or brother. But thanks to Cal, I’m once again reevaluating this dream though.
He keeps playing “One Kiss” by Dua Lipa—at least a dozen times so far—and he’s singing aloud to the part where she says, “One kiss is all it takes, Fallin’ in love with me. Possibilities.”
I know it’s aimed at me. What a cocky SOB! As if I’m falling in love with him from one little kiss. All right, so it wasn’t little, and neither was what I had felt rub against me when he was atop of me, either. But love? That would be pathetic. Absurd. And ‘possibilities?’ What possibilities? The possibility of me being another one of his giggly girls. I don’t think so. That’s not me!
I freeze, a new embarrassing thought occurring to me. Had my nearly orgasmic reaction two nights ago been that obvious? I feel my cheeks heat. Nope, I’m not going to let him get to me. I stick in ear buds, and with a willpower I didn’t know I possessed, I resist the urge to pound on the door and demand he stop playing the song yet again.
As if he can hear my silent plea through the walls, the music jars to a stop and I heave a sigh of relief.
My thankfulness is short-lived. “Kiss Me More” from Doja Cat starts up.
“Dream on!” I shout over the music, hoping he hears me.
Even though I know better, I am dreaming about kissing him more—and not just his lips, but every inch of his athletic, lean body. What is wrong with me?
Chapter Five
Day Three Why Me?
I eye the door between our rooms suspiciously. I’ve gone a whole day without seeing my neighbor. I should be relieved, but it’s only set my nerves on edge. And … just maybe I’m a little disappointed?
No. April, no! Great, I’m yelling at myself like I’m instructing my dog, Toto, not to jump up on everybody he sees. Sort of like Cal.
I snort at my own joke and am about to slide into bed when I notice a piece of paper being slipped under the connecting door. I stare at it, debating whether or not I should collect it. Maybe I can pretend that I didn’t see it, but I scrap that idea when I hear a fake cough from the other side of the door. That cough was clearly calling bullshit without saying the words. I rise from my bed and reach down to grab the note, half expecting there to be a string attached to it or some other childish prank involved. I examine it, but it seems harmless enough.
Unfolding the ripped-out piece of spiral notebook paper, I admire his handwriting. It’s way nicer than my own childish loops, a fact that only makes me even more annoyed at him.
Lil’ Dancing Queen, it’s your turn as DJ. Play five of your current top songs before bed. I’ll be listening …
