She batted her lashes at me. “We did a lot of flirting and had fun, but when he kissed me”—she made a fist and flicked it open—“poof. Nothing. Zero chemistry. For either of us.” Checking her nails, she added, “Sad, really. His voice alone could cause orgasms. Then he smiles and lights up the room. Plus, he’s super-smart. I bet he ends up on the Supreme Court someday.”
“So why aren’t you two dating?”
“Like I said. Zero. Chemistry.” She sighed. “Some other girl is going to get very, very lucky.”
My mind wandered to the way Finn had teased me with little kisses anywhere but on my mouth, and how the anticipation had made my heart race almost out of my chest when he won his “points.” When at last he’d pressed his mouth to mine, I thought I might self-combust with lust. From the sounds he’d made and the way he’d ground into me, my kisses had a similar effect on him. Our chemistry was the kind known for causing explosions.
A throat clearing across the table returned me to the present. “You wandered off on me again.” Saylor smirked. “You haven’t told me anything about last night, have you?”
“I told you everything,” I lied. “As much as there is to tell anyway.”
“I don’t believe you, but you’re digging your heels in, so I’ll give it a rest—for now.”
When I returned to the dorm, I hung out at the front desk as a distraction from spending the rest of the morning reliving each moment of my date with Finn. Though gorgeous, smart, and supremely athletic, it turned out his true asset lay in a romantic nature I never would have guessed before last night. The guy was such a gentleman who obviously wanted to impress me, but also cared that I’d had a super time. From the thoughtful way he’d arranged our picnic and chosen the food, to the fun surprise of playing games together, he’d gone out of his way to show me he had more going on than just a handsome face and superior football playing skills.
Finn’s vulnerability in showing me his romantic side told me how attracted he was to me every bit as much as his kisses did.
Aaand, I was back to thinking about his panty-melting kisses again.Ugh!The way the man had used his sexy mouth to drive me straight out of my head topped the list of his other fine qualities. I had no idea what I expected, but I certainly never anticipated the way he could make me lose myself in his touch. I mean, I should have had a clue after that night during finals when I found myself pressed into the cushions of his couch by his deliciously hard body. But last night during our date, he’d upped the ante with his teasing, the anticipation of when he would finally put his lips on mine driving me to distraction. At the memory of those hot kisses, coupled with the pleasure of his hard length behind his fly rubbing along the fly of my jeans, my skin tingled and my core pulsed a naughty rhythm.
“Are you trying to memorize the entire schedule for March?” Jimmy asked, a bigger question drawing his brows together.
With an embarrassed little huff at being caught daydreaming about night things, I said, “Nope. Trying to remember if I set up a program for my floor on the Wednesday before St. Patrick’s Day.” Deliberately, I set the calendar back in its spot behind Jimmy’s chair and pulled up the chair next to his.
Lots of students took advantage of work-study jobs like desk-clerking because they could basically get paid for studying for classes. The desk-clerk positions in the women’s dorms were especially sought-after since those dorms tended to be quieter than the men’s or the co-ed ones, and the male clerks liked the opportunity to meet women somewhere other than at bars or on dating apps.
Jimmy Anderson was our standing Sunday desk clerk—had been since my freshman year. Not once in the time I’d known him had I ever seen him hit on one of the residents or even strike up a conversation that could be remotely construed as flirtatious. A graduate student in astrophysics, he had a plan for joining NASA and working on the team that put people on Mars. Usually, we talked physics, and more than once, he’d helped me out of a jam with a problem or a project. But the way he was looking at me this morning told me he had serious concerns about my mental state.
“What are you working on?” I asked with a nod to the books spread over the counter separating the desk area from the lobby.
“Quarks.” The frown between his brows didn’t ease. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Positive.”
His question had me rethinking my big idea to hang out at the front desk, but the arrival of a couple of freshmen who lived on my floor last semester preempted my scramble for a graceful exit.
“We’re here to pick up some friends—from 2C and 3B.” Chelsea Vonda, one of the nastier girls who’d eagerly joined Tory Miller’s posse last semester, curled her lip in my direction. “We’re saving them from dorm life,” she added as though she were some sort of hero.
The girls they were picking up lived on mine and Jamaica’s floors. That couldn’t be a coincidence.
Jimmy pointed to the old rotary phone sitting on the end of the counter. “You know the drill. Dial their room number and wait for them to come get you.”
“It’s such a dumb rule, especially for women,” Chelsea’s companion said with a less intimidating sneer. Apparently, she was still in training.
“It’s basic safety protocol. Presumably the reason certain women choose to live in Hanover.” From his tone, I picked up that these girls didn’t impress Jimmy any more than they impressed me.
“Whatever.” Tossing her heavy brunette locks over her shoulder, Chelsea picked up the receiver and dialed a number. “We’re here.” With a nod she pressed the peg down on the phone cradle with her index finger and then dialed a second number. “We’re waiting in the lobby.”
Curious to see who the Delta Chi pledges had in their sights for recruitment to the mean-girl sorority, I stood and checked my mailbox, which gave me a reason to linger without having to engage with them. A few minutes later, Josie, the sweetest and quietest girl on my floor, rounded the corner into the lobby. My eyes about bugged out of my head when I saw who they’d set their sights on. Were the Delta Chis trying to clean up their ugly reputation, or were they targeting the sweeties because they’d run out of girls like themselves? Why would Josie go with them? Perhaps she and I needed to talk later.
Another girl I recognized from seeing her around the dorm entered the lobby from Jamaica’s floor. The dorm was built in the shape of an “H” with the lobby as the crossbar, which made it easy to discern the general area in which a resident lived based on the side she entered or exited the lobby. Though I didn’t know her personally, her demeanor gave away her type: sweet, wholesome, maybe a little naïve. Her light blonde hair fell over the side of her face when she ducked her head in greeting.
Something was up. I’d have to talk to Jamaica about her resident too. Looked like the four of us should go out for coffee or something.
I didn’t have a problem with the sororities in general. For the most part, they were fancier dorms with more rules than Hanover, each filled with like-minded women. Since I belonged to the women’s physics sorority, I actually understood the appeal of such social organizations—except for Delta Chi. I knew about their reputation for nasty from my first campus visit, through freshman orientation, to the mess Tory Miller had put me through last year and the mess she’d put Jamaica through last semester. Nothing but trouble lived in that house, which only made the current scene with Josie and the other apparently sweet girl walking out of the lobby with Chelsea and her friend worrisome.
Jimmy interrupted my thoughts. “Can’t imagine what those two want with the nice girls. Hope they’re not planning something like a scene out ofCarrie.”
I gasped. “You’ve seenCarrie? Which one—the classic from the seventies or the one from 2013?”
