I take the paper and my eyes scan over it. It's essentially a help wanted flyer, just jazzed up to catch the eye. It's for a club downtown that’s looking to hire female bartenders, no experience necessary. While it's a decent idea, I still think she's out of her mind.
"You want us to be bartenders?"
She nods. "It's the greatest idea ever. We can spend every night in the club and meet really cute guys."
I snort. "Guys who are probably a little old for us."
"That's beside the point." She waves me off dismissively. "Think about it. We would have so much fun!"
"And juggle work with school and cheerleading? I’m not so sure about that."
Groaning, she takes the flyer from my hands. "Fine, you can be a party pooper if you want, but have fun living on ramen and macaroni."
That makes me stop and think. She's got a point. My bank account has been looking a little low, and while I think it's going to be harder than Kennedy is assuming, maybe having a job as a bartender wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.
"Okay, okay," I cave. "You win. Where do I apply?"
The corners of her mouth raise. "I kind of, sort of, maybe already handed in both our applications."
My jaw drops as I look at my roommate. "Kennedy!"
She raises her hands defensively and steps back. "Remember, I'm awesome, and you love me."
As she runs from the room, all I can do is laugh. I can't even be mad because it’s a total Kennedy thing to do, and if I didn't want the job, I could have just turned it down when they called. Still, she's a terror.
THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT COLLEGE classes that make you feel more like a grown up. Everything is so laid back, and while we’re still expected to do our work, no one is here to babysit us. If you feel like walking right out of class, you can. If you feel like not showing up, there's no one there to yell at you for it. The freedom is my favorite thing about this place.
It's times like these, though, that I wish I was more outgoing. Maybe then I would make more friends. Sure, I have Kennedy, and she's great, but we were forced together by sharing a dorm. Thank God I didn't request a single. I'd be the most awkward little recluse.
You would think being a cheerleader would make me this bubbly girl who gets along with everyone, but it doesn't. I've simply always had a love for tumbling and cheer stunts. And there's a part of me that hopes all the girls on the team will rub some of their wit off on me and make it so I don't choke on words every time I'm supposed to talk to someone new.
"Your assignment is to study International Shoe Co. v. Washington and write a four-page opinion piece on it," the professor announces. "I want them in my email by six p.m. on Monday."
Most of the class groans as we pack up our things, but what did they really expect? If they think this is difficult, they're going to have a really hard time when they get to law school. The workload only gets more intense.
I follow everyone out of the classroom and bank a right to head toward my dorm. As soon as I get out of the underpass, however, my stomach churns. Zayn is leaning against the wall across from me, with his black leather jacket and a pair of sunglasses on that make him look like a hotter version of Danny Zuko. My whole body responds to it, even though I beg it not to. As if it couldn't get any worse, he pushes off the wall and starts coming my way.
"Are you stalking me?" I ask as soon as he's close enough. This is twice now that he's hunted me down.
He smirks, completely unaffected by my attitude. "Would it be so bad if I was?"
For a second, I think he's actually flirting, but then he clears his throat and looks away. When he brings his attention back to me, there's no question about it. Whatever he was thinking, it's gone now.
"Can we talk?"
His words catch me off guard, but I have a feeling that's what he was going for. "So that you can tell me again how you regret the other night? I'll pass, thanks."
I go to walk by him, but he grabs my wrist and spins me around, the same way he did before he kissed me. Only this time, there's distance between us.
Good.
"Come on," he pleads. "Don't be like that."
My eyes roll, and I cross my arms over my chest. "Why do you even care?"
His mouth opens and closes for a minute. "I just do."
"Not good enough." I shake my head.