One-Inch is a guy I already know named Jaxon who has a bald eagle flag on the bed of his truck, a tattoo that saysFreedomon the back of his neck, and lifts in his shoes. Hence his nickname ... it’s that one inch that lets him lie about being six feet tall.
News flash, Jaxon, nobody cares you’re five foot eleven. That’s not what’s stopping you from getting some. It’s your personality, buddy.
“Wipe that face off your face,” Cece whispers, making me grin because she’s poorly quoting our favorite movie,Dazed and Confused. “I can always tell when you’re inner dialogue trash-talking.”
I turn toward her, my elbow hung over the top of my seat.
“It’s my fight-or-flight response to the trauma you’ve subjected us to. This is the worst day of my life ... Have you even noticed the shirt Jaxon’s wearing?”
She snorts. “It saysStealin’ Hearts.What’s the big deal?”
“On the front, Cece ... the back saysBlastin’ Farts ...”
She looks over her shoulder. “Oh wow.”
I nod, taking it all in. At least three guys are popping mints while one’s eating a tuna sandwich. The universe hates me. Hates, with a capitalH.
I exhale my words like a sigh. “You realize we’re the closest they’re ever getting to a woman. This class is basically prison.”
She looks back, rolling her eyes. “You’re so dramatic, and you wonder why I chose drama as our last college elective.”
The back of my teeth grind together before I give her a dirty look and level, “Our friendship is over. Is that dramatic enough?”
I snatch a pink heart off the chair in front of me and rip it. It makes her laugh before she shoves my shoulder.
But I add, “Listen, if you want to keep me in your life, then you’re buying drinks tonight. All night. Maybe if I black out, I won’t remember today.”
She shrugs, popping a piece of gum into her mouth, offering me some while mumbling, “Deal,” before her eyebrows draw together. “Maybe we should chew two pieces just in case we get Hal-Olive-Garden-Tosis?”
“I fear today will become ingrained in my mind like a permanent B-roll of cringe. Here to haunt me for the rest of my life.”
Still, I take the two pieces. Better to be safe than sorry.
“Ooh, ooh, game time,” she whispers, making me shift to stare at the professor.
His little curly head is barely visible as he calls for everyone to sit, waving his hands up and down.
“Okay, players ...” he starts. “What a semester it’s been. You’ve dug deep into each of these plays, and now you get to turn all that research into a moving performance. Remember, forty percent of your grade is based on this exam, so really let those acting chops shine through.”
I cut my eyes to Cece, who smiles sheepishly.
“Anyone brave enough to volunteer before I draw names from the hat?”
People look at each other nervously, the room silent.
“Oh, come on ...” he prods like a true hater.
I groan quietly, shoving my hands into the pocket of my well-worn hoodie, whispering to Cece, “I hate you.”
But she winks before grabbing my arm, trying to tug it free. What in the ...
“Volunteer,” she rushes out. “It’ll be over faster. And then I’ll go after you.”
Panic rises in my chest as I shake my head, using all my upper body strength to keep my hand inside my hoodie.
“Noooo, why do you hate me? What have I done to you?”
She giggles. “Just raise your hand, you big baby. The humiliation is inevitable.”
