I pretend to consider it again. “I think I have to say never. But I wish you luck on your roommate quest.”
He looks unfazed. I get the feeling nothing fazes him. “How about you just invite me over, then? I promise to bring the good booze.” When I hesitate, he swiftly changes gears. “Or we’ll go out instead. Grab some dinner.”
“Oh. Thanks for the offer, but I really don’t have the time.” I stretch my arm and drop the medicine on the top of his backpack. I won’t lie and say I didn’t enjoy this flirting session, but a date? That doesn’t fit into my plan. This year I’m winning the mock trial championship, and I’m not going to be distracted. I spent my entire winter break plotting out this semester’s game plan. Nowhere on that schedule of events includes taking a chance on a guy like Matthew.
Something about him makes me nervous. Not in a he’s-going-to-turn-you-into-a-skinsuit nervous, but more that I don’t like the way his vivid eyes and easy smiles make my heart pound. I feel the need to pull out my glucose measuring tool to make sure an unexpected hormone release isn’t wreaking havoc with my body.
He tilts his head. Then rubs his chin. Then sweeps his hair back away from his face. “This is new,” he mutters to himself. He gives me a tight smile. “Can I borrow your pen?”
I hand it to him warily, hoping he’s not going to spend the rest of the night trying to spin the pen while simultaneously trying to convince me to change my mind, but he doesn’t. Instead he pulls the rules book toward him and writes down seven digits. “This is my number. If you find some extra time, give me a call.”
2
Matty
It’s been a long time since I’ve been rejected. I hadn’t come to the Brew House with the intention of picking up a girl. I was going stir crazy at home, and none of my roommates was around for me to talk to, so I decided to take a walk. This place was on the far end of campus and I’d never stepped foot inside it before, which meant that it was as safe a spot as any.
Then she strolled in, her long blonde hair streaming down her back like shiny ribbons. She sat down and started flipping her pen and sighing so hard I thought she might blow herself off the chair.
It would’ve been a crime to not offer her an ear. And when she looked at me with her big brown eyes, I couldn’t tear myself away. The invitation came out of my mouth because…well, that’s what guys do with pretty girls. They ask them out. And I guess they get turned down, too.
I’m not a slouch in the academic department. I get good grades and have been an Academic All-American every year since I’ve been eligible, but no one I know starts studying until a week before midterms.
Studying as a reason for rejection lies somewhere midpoint between I can’t because my mom died and I can’t because I’m clipping my toenails. At least she looked regretful turning me down, as if she wished she could take me out for a ride but couldn’t quite bring herself to throw her leg over the saddle.
Any other night, maybe I would have pursued her harder. Or just brushed off the rejection, snapped my fingers, and waited for a willing babe to magically appear and soothe away the sting. Which isn’t exactly a stretch—when you play football for Western, there’s no shortage of willing babes at your disposal. But I’m not in the mood tonight.
I’m not sure why. It’s not because I popped into my friend Masters' place this afternoon and he was reading a book while Ellie was on her computer. They looked domestic and boring. The little pang in my chest was probably heartburn from the three burrito bowls I had at lunch. It wasn’t…envy
Halfway home, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Pulling it out, I see a text from Stella Lowe, one of the team managers.
Stella: Coach wants to see you.
I wonder if I’m the only one who thinks it’s weird Stella calls her dad Coach. The digital clock reads 8:05 p.m. It’s been a week since the National Championship game. You’d think he’d be enjoying some R&R. Guy certainly deserves it.
I’ve taken full advantage of the post-championship high. There’s not a bar in town that doesn’t have a bottomless tap for a Warrior player. Not a girl on campus—or off it—who isn’t chomping at the bit to do a little chomping on my bits.