Because of the low score on the test, I was forced to work in a gap year I hadn’t planned on because no medical school would have looked at my application with a score of under 20—even though my GPA was 4.0. I would have to wait for a higher score in order to apply to medical school. So, I was using this time to look on the bright side of things. There was no denying that I needed the time to gather funds. My gaze flitted across the table to my study partner with more than a little envy. Jon had no financial concerns and was headed straight to medical school after he graduated next year.
Seeing my continued blank stare, he heaved a great sigh. “Did you forget to charge your phone again?”
I reached into my bag and pulled it out. Dead as a doornail. I sent him a crooked smile and a shrug. “I don’t do the texting thing much. I already told you.”
He ran a hand through his curly blond hair. “Mia, you need to enter the twenty-first century. First of all, only old people have phones like that,” he said with a disgusted wave of his hand.
I pulled my phone back, a protective wave of misplaced affection rising in my breast. What was wrong with a prepaid plan? And dare I tell him that the reason I hadn’t received the text was not because I had forgotten to charge the phone but because I was out of minutes and had no money to make my monthly payment?
He knew I was a typical struggling student. He just didn’t know quite how much because I never ever invited him to my place. One look around my dive studio and he’d know my financial circumstances in an instant.
I’d never had guys at my place, aside from Heath, but even he usually sniffed down his nose at my converted studio. We had been roommates until the year before when he and his steady boyfriend had decided to move in together. Due to my financial constraints, I’d had to trade down, way down, to my studio that rested above the detached garage on one of those cute vintage craftsman homes. Unfortunately, it was hotter than hell in the summer and a deep freeze—if that was possible in Southern California—in the winter.
“So what were you asking me?” My chest clenched in dreaded anticipation. Please don’t ask me out again. Please don’t ask me out again. I was getting tired of telling him no. He was more persistent than most guys. I tucked a strand of long dark hair behind my ear and looked at him expectantly.
“There’s this dinner…” He stopped when I took a deep breath and shot him a look. When I didn’t say anything, he continued. “It’s a charity event. My parents participate every year and asked me if I’d attend since they can’t make it down.”
“When?”
“Next week.”
“Dress?”
“Formal.”
“I don’t do those types of events.” To say nothing of the fact that I didn’t have anything to wear that could even remotely be classified as “formal.”
“C’mon, Mia,” he breathed, with a groan. “It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me.”
My back straightened and a tense ball tightened between my shoulder blades. I tried to feel flattered by his obvious attraction, but I truly found it more of a hindrance to our quality study time. “I’m sorry. Please don’t take it personally. I just don’t date.”
He shook his head, blowing out a breath. “And you are never going to end up with anyone if the only guy you ever hang out with is gay.”
I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth. I knew he didn’t mean any harm. He got along well with Heath, actually, had mentioned that Heath could take him easily (kind of a stupid comment because Heath could take out most guys—I was glad to have him on my side).
“What makes you think I’m interested in getting together with anyone?”
Jon sat back, frowning. He was a good study partner and a nice person or I really wouldn’t bother. But this was getting tiresome and I knew I needed to get him to drop his delusion or else start looking for a new study partner.
His face fell and I couldn’t suppress a twinge of regret. I’d never sought to hurt his feelings, so I figured I’d throw him a bone. “How about we go out for a celebratory drink after the test?”
His eyes lit up. He really was a good-looking guy. A guy I could see myself dating, if I dated. But I’d just about made it through all of undergrad without ever dating a single guy. We went out in groups and I’d been asked out here and there before word got out that I wasn’t here for social reasons.
Besides, spending almost all of my spare time playing online computer games and tinkering on my blog tended to kill a social life. And mine had died years ago.