“Of course, got everything we need—hey, what are you going to wear tonight? And I got a new hook-up for guest passes. Where do we want to go after the pre-game?” Zee asks. “DJ Tongo is playing at BlackBox, and Sterling’s members only.” Being in several different circles, Zee always has a hook-up to get us into any of the clubs. But lately, she’s had her eye on a guy who frequents BlackBox, a student-run nightclub where a lot of our friends hang out, and even though Zee loves Sterling Club, she also likes the more chill vibe of BlackBox…and the chance to spend more time with Trey.
“Shit, I don’t even know,” I tell her, thinking of the pile of clothes in my room. I haven’t done laundry in a month.
I’m running through the options in my head when Zee grabs my arm. “Hey, who is that gorgeous guy?”
Across the quad, a good-looking Asian guy—tall, tan, shirtless—is jogging past. It takes me a moment to realize I know him. “That’s—Ben. Ben Wong,” I tell her. “He’s treasurer of Sterling. We’ve sat next to him at dinner there before.”
“Ohhh, he’s men’s soccer, right? Wow. He looks…good.” Zee looks at him appraisingly, a smile forming on her lips.
I remember sitting next to Ben in psych freshman year. He had these cute glasses and was always doing his engineering homework during class, penciled numbers packed to the edges of his notebook. But I don’t remember him looking quite so fit—did the guy spend all summer working on his abs?
Ben notices us staring and smiles at me. My stomach flutters.
“Girl, I don’t know what you’re waiting for,” Zee says. “Invite him tonight!”
I laugh. “I barely know him.” But Zee’s got me thinking…maybe someone new would be the perfect distraction from Liam.
—
That evening afterclass, I’m doing laundry in the basement of our building when movement in the corner of the room catches myeye. Ben is at the far machine, noise-canceling headphones on, peeling off his socks and tossing them one by one into the washing machine. Unaware of my presence, he takes his shirt off too and throws it in after. He glances my way and shrugs, gesturing to the washer.
Embarrassed, I look down, continue pulling my clothes from the dryer as if I wasn’t just staring at him. I’ve turned away and am sorting my socks into pairs when, out of the corner of my eye, I see Ben pull his athletic shorts down and toss them in too. I suppress a laugh.
“Something funny?” To my surprise, Ben is somehow standing right behind me, naked except for his banana-print boxers.
“Oh, sorry, just wasn’t expecting you to strip down,” I say, flustered, trying not to stare at his perfect torso. Blood rushes to my cheeks, spreads up my ears.
As I distractedly gather my things, my hand manages to knock a pile of clothes onto the ground, lacy thongs and socks scattering everywhere.Oh god.
I bend down to grab them. He kneels too, and our heads nearly collide. “Sorry,” we say at the same time.
“I was just messing with you,” Ben says as he hands me a sports bra that had fallen onto the ground, expertly avoiding the brightly colored thongs that are inches from his foot. “What can I say, I waited a little too long to do laundry.” He laughs and his smile lights up his eyes.
“Thanks.” I laugh, taking the bra from him. I gather the rest of my clothes from the floor and stand. “I didn’t know you were in this building.”
“Well, I’m actually in Foulke, but all the machines are full, and I couldn’t afford to wait another day.”
My phone vibrates loudly where I’ve left it on the machine. I glance at it, expecting it to be my sister calling me back, but insteadDOUCHEBAG—DO NOT ANSWERlights up the screen.Liam.
I silence it.
When I look back at Ben, I can tell he saw the name by the slight smile playing at his lips. He seems like he’s going to say something but then doesn’t.
“You going out tonight?” he asks instead.
“Yeah—actually, we’re having a surprise party for my roommate, if you want to stop by. Bring whoever.”
“Cool. Yeah—I’ll see what the guys are doing.”
My phone vibrates again, and I rush to silence it.
“You gonna get that?” he asks, a subtle teasing in his tone.
I tug at one of my hoops. Look away. “Nah—it’s…nobody.”
My phone vibrates with a text. We both look.
“Looks like Nobody’s really trying to get your attention,” he says.
