“Oh God…” I drum my fingers on the counter. “Do you know what I can try next? Have you got a list of agencies?”
She shakes her head and glances over my shoulder. I get the message. People are waiting.
She rolls her chair back. “Go and speak to the student council, they might have some ideas.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you.”
I scoop up my bag and fling it over my shoulder too quickly: a guy is standing super close behind me.
“Oh, I’m sorry!”
“No worries.”
I squeeze out of the crowded office and make for the coffee cart. My brain freezes when it’s time to order: mint tea or double espresso? Kirk hates coffee, and I realize I haven’t had a cup since I left Florida.
The girl behind me is losing patience. “Pick something already.”
I go for a triple-shot espresso with no sugar, knocking it back in one go and setting off on a mission to sniff out a miracle. The student council office is just as short on ideas for me, and three hours of investigating and one skipped lunch later, I drag myself out to the central plaza. The place is still heaving, and I scan the crowds. My breath catches in my throat as I finally take in the object of my obsessions, but a distant shout ruins everything.
“Hey! Heartbreak!”
Kirk is sitting there surrounded by a few guys. And girls. I can’t tear my eyes away. Too many girls. Too close. Too…
“Heaaartbreaaak!”
Oh my God, can’t he just shut up?
Just as Kirk turns to look at me, I home in on the person doing the shouting. The dumbass is stretched out on the grass beneath a towering statue, and if looks could kill, he’d be dead already. I stride toward him, mouthing “Shut up” as I go, and he frowns. He mutters something to the guys he’s with, and they all burst out laughing. For fuck’s sake. He just screwed up my one and only chance.
I hate this guy!
I lunge at him, all my pent-up anger propelling me forward, and he crosses his arms over his chest as if bracing himself for the impact when an obstacle appears before me.
“Hey again!”
I bang into a mass so hard my bag goes flying, my forehead connecting with a fleshy heftiness. I step back, taking in the body standing between me and the jerk.
“We met earlier,” says the guy who almost literally threw himself at me.
Narrowing my eyes, I try to think, but my brain is splitting in two, half of it focused on Kirk, the other half taken up with… the other guy.
“You bumped into me with your bag,” he prompts, seeing my clueless expression.
“Oh! Yeah! Right.”
That’s all I’ve got, but he seems happy enough. A broad smile spreads over his spotty face.
He puffs out his chest. “I’m Donald, but everyone calls me Donny!”
“I’m Lois, but everyone calls me Lois.”
He forces out a laugh and stuffs his hands into his pockets. Or tries to, at least: His jeans are clinging to his thighs.
“Freshman?”
This guy wants to make small talk. All I want is to make a getaway.
“Yeah.”
