“You stalking the campus gossip app, much?”
I look ahead, then back at her.
“You’ll say no now,” I tell her. “You’ll say yes later.”
Her whole face goes beautiful and offended.
“I would rather date a folding chair.”
“That feels personal.”
“It is.”
I grin wider.
“Still not a no forever…”
She rolls her eyes so hard I’m pretty sure it counts as a concussion.
“You are exhausting.”
“Good. Means you’re paying attention.”
She stops at the path where soccer breaks left toward the dorms and turns to face me fully.
Under the field lights she looks unreal—flushed from practice, hair slipping loose, body all athlete lines and beauty queen polish and enough bite in her face to make me want to get mean just so she’ll sharpen it at me again.
“Listen carefully,” she says.
I nod like a gentleman.
“Always.”
“I am not going out with you.”
“Tonight.”
“Ever.”
I tilt my head.
“Bold statement.”
She folds her arms.
“You are not my type.”
That gets me.
Because I know what she means.
Not polished enough.
Not pretty enough while still being manly.
Not princely enough.
Bank account with not enough zeros….
