I dispose of my straw wrapper into my bag, pop the straw in the bubble lid’s opening, and take my first sip. I close my eyes over the taste; it is really delicious.
“We can be partners,” I accept, sensing that getting rid of Bryce will be a challenge, so we might as well join forces. He will at least keep me entertained. “This drink is very good, by the way. I’ll buy next time.”
“Any chance you want to come to our frat’s Welcome Back party in two weeks? Will be lots of fun.”
Parties are not really my thing. The thing at the mansion was enough stress with just trying to fit in. And parties thrown by the fraternities on campus are notorious for getting out of hand. “What night?” I ask, just to be polite.
“Saturday.”
“I’m going to an annual Cancer fundraiser. Sorry.”
“Sure, choose cancer over getting drunk and pregnant,” he says with a fake scoff.
I give him an artificial look of disgust and relax back into my seat and wait for class to start. For once, I am early. Bryce pulls out the syllabus and starts leafing through it. My heart drops at the thought that I missed an important assignment. School has barely been in session for me to get very behind. I need to keep my focus.
“Bryce, we don’t have an assignment due today, do we?”
“Shit, if we do, I didn’t do it.” He flips a page in the packet. “I’m looking to see when the sex chapter starts. That’s the only reason I took this damn elective class in the first place.”
I shoot him a look. “You know that there is this thing called porn, right?”
Bryce glares at me. “That stuff is unrealistic. I don’t watch it.”
“Rigggggght.”
He gives me the most over-the-top smile. “I also took this class because the professor is hot. I have a weakness for pencil skirts.”
“How about angry chicks in pencil skirts?”
“Cocktease!”
I slap Bryce on the arm to get him to quiet down. For two people who have just met, we seem to be hitting it off in the friend zone. Other classmates are starting to stare, making me feel awkward at the scene we seem to be making.
“Angie, you suck at being a feminist,” he says, pointing to the button pin I have attached to the side of my tote bag that broadcasts my view. It is situated beside the other button that says “coffee whore” across the front in bubble letters.
“Yeah, pretty much,” I agree with a shrug. “But being a feminist means I can be whatever the hell I want.”
“Hell ya. Girl power! Run the world!” he chants obnoxiously while pumping his fist. He receives a few hoots from around the room, making me slither farther down into my seat. So much for keeping a low profile this semester.
Bryce is a catch for anyone who likes a slightly shorter, hilarious-as-hell, muscular man. What Bryce lacks in his five-foot-and-some-change height, he makes up for with personality.
“I just want—”
“Shhh!” Bryce hushes me. “Show some respect for my future wife.” He gestures toward the front of the auditorium, as our professor makes her way to her podium.
Her red hair is pulled up in a bun, and her throat is wrapped in a decorative floral scarf. The students settle, and my time is now monopolized for the next two hours. At least I have a distraction from overthinking about tonight’s date with Dominic.
Bryce leans into my shoulder and whispers, “Can’t wait for this absurd scarf phase to pass.”
I muffle my laughter.
It is going to be a long two hours.
* * *
I sip on a glass of vodka and orange juice per Claire’s request as I finish the last-minute touches on my makeup. I don’t know why my nerves are multiplying like rabid bunnies. Yes, it is a date—for lack of a better word—but it is with Dominic, the boss. The whole point of tonight is to help me relax.
“I think the vodka is making me more on edge.”