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I bang through the door and run smack into Aiden.
He says, “Sorry,” looks shyly at the ground, and then back up at me. He's holding a small green leaf in his hand. “Here, I found this. Open your hand.”
I put my palm up toward him, and he lays a perfect four-leaf clover in it.
“Good luck,” he says, and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek.
It’s really quite adorable, and I can't decide now if he's a jerk or not.
I'm leaning toward not.
“Thanks.” I gently place the clover in my bag, see the two Hershey’s kisses Gracie gave me, and grab them. “Want one?”
Aiden smiles and says, “My favorite,” and pops it in his mouth.
I eat mine, while feeling slightly jealous of the kiss that just melted in Aiden’s mouth, and bounce happily over to the auditorium for dance tryouts.
Tryouts aren’t really that hard. They have us memorize two simple dance routines, one with pompoms and one without. Then we perform both individually and in a group. We spend about two hours learning them, and about fifteen minutes on the actual tryouts. Luckily, I am one of the first girls picked to do my individual routine, so I don’t have to sit there and wait nervously.
I have no idea how I do. I know the routine. And I know big smiles are important for dance performers. Besides, I couldn't fake the smile on my face no matter how good an actor I might ever be.
The kiss on the cheek and four-leaf clover from Aiden has me gri
Still.
And I’m finding myself really looking forward to the all school mixer tonight.
A cheap imitation.
5:15pm
I go back to my dorm, take a quick shower, do my hair up, and am thinking about getting dressed when my roommate, Morgan, comes in and sits on her bed. She’s only unpacked her bedding, which I’m kinda surprised by, because she does seem like one of those a
I mean, I’m fine with being an achiever; she just seems like she tries too hard. But I figure I’ll make the best of it and be nice to her.
“So, have you figured out what you’re going to wear to the mixer?” I ask her.
She stares at my gorgeous ocean poster. “I hate the water.”
“You hate the water? Did you, like, almost drown or get bitten by a shark? Everyone loves the water.”
“No, I just prefer the electricity of a big city.”
And the anonymity, I would think, as well. But I don’t say that. I’m not going to be bitchy. “Well, yeah, but some cities, like Miami have both.”
She sighs at me. “I also don’t think I can live with Malibu Barbie.”
I panic! How could she know that? Does everyone know? I’m supposed to be from L.A. This could be any beach. Shit!
I gulp. “What makes you think I’m from Malibu?”
I also realize this the second time in two days I’ve had a quote from Legally Blonde thrown at me.
“It was kind of a slam. Gee, you’re dumber than I thought. So I’m moving in with a girl I’m going to be in band with. She isn’t happy with her roommate either, so her roommate is going to move in with you.”
“Uh, no. They said we can’t switch roommates. You can’t just ditch me!”
I’m getting ditched by a four-eyed band geek?! On my second day? How totally uncool am I?
“I talked to the advisor about it, and she said we can switch if all four of us agree. And since when are you a rule follower anyway? You came in a half hour after curfew!”
“I was in the dorm before curfew, but there were a few girls still up, so we were talking a little. Getting to know one another. You should try it.”
She ignores my snarky comment. “I’ll introduce you to your new roommate tonight. You both tried out for the dance team, so you’ll probably get along just fine.” Then she walks out the door.
And I’m thinking, well, maybe she will be better.
I’m kinda impressed that Morgan had the balls and the resourcefulness to get all this figured out. I’m thinking maybe I should try to be friends with her, but then I realize she’s already biased against me. Against the beach, against my tan, against my late nights, and I don’t really think I want to take the time to convince her I’m anything more than that. Besides, I have to finish getting dressed and do my makeup perfectly.
The God of all Hotties better watch out!
I’m also starting to realize that Brooklyn might’ve been right. I might want to date a boy here.
Oh, crap. No. No dating boys here.
Well, maybe I could date a few boys, but absolutely no falling in love.
I’m done with love.
While I’m getting ready, I get a text from Riley. Well, he put his number in my phone as the Sex God. I haven’t had time to change it.
Sex God: </3
Me: What’s that for?
Sex God: You’re supposed to make out with me, not Dallas.
Me: Whoops :)
Sex God: I’m outside your dorm, walk you to di
Me: I’m not quite ready.
Sex God: Then I’m coming in.
Me: Cool. 6B
There’s a knock at my door, and I open it.
Riley is standing there. He looks really good. He’s wearing a deep blue dress shirt with black pants and shiny Italian loafers. I’m talking very expensive, Tommy-has-three-pairs-and-bitched-about-the-price-the-whole-time-he-was-buying-them loafers. His dark hair is slicked back instead of swooped down on his forehead, and he reminds me a bit of Nate from Gossip Girl. He also looks much older this way, and damned if I don’t like it.
My makeup is done, but all I’m wearing is my short pink silk robe with my bra and panties underneath. The way he looks at me makes me suddenly feel naked.
He grabs my waist with his huge hands and says, “You look sexy. This what you’re wearing tonight?”
I’m close to him. He smells amazing.
“I don’t think this is really appropriate.” I laugh.
“Maybe we should skip di
I should be appalled, but I can handle him. Cush used to tease me like this. “You’re very subtle, huh?”
His dark eyes glisten. “I find the direct approach to be most effective.”
“It probably is, but it’s not very romantic.”
“I’m not really looking for romance.”
“And I’m not really looking for sex.”
He lets go of me, and I step in front of my mirror. I finish ru
Riley sits on Morgan’s bed and stares at the ocean on my wall. “That’s gorgeous. I love the ocean.”
“Yeah, me too. Do you surf?”
“I try. We have a house in the Hamptons, so I spend most of my summers there.”
“I love the beach. In case you can’t tell. That’s actually me out there surfing.”
“Really?” He gets up and walks closer to my wall. “And the guy,” he says, pointing at Brooklyn, “that your boyfriend?”
“That’s B, yeah.”
“B? What kind of name is that?”
“It’s just what I call him. His name is really Br-uh- it’s Bradley.”
“So why were you making out with Dallas last night?”
“We have an understanding, I guess. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“So he broke up with you? You don’t have a boyfriend? You lied?”
“I don’t know what we’re doing, really. It’s sorta confusing.”
“Good. Glad we got that cleared up.”