I swallow hard past my instinctive grimace. “I know that, Kat. As you so kindly pointed out, I’m thirty now.”
“Then you also know that real love is what comes after the fireworks and butterflies fade.”
But what if there were never any to begin with? I want to say. What if I’m incapable of that? Instead, I slip my arm out of her grasp and rise to unfold my coat. “It’s getting late,” I say. “I still have to swing by the Bodleian and send an essay assignment out.”
She agrees we should call it a night. But when I climb into the car outside and wave to her in her adjoining Mini Cooper, I can’t help noticing she’s still eying me closely, as if checking for cracks.
Harper
“You guys, this is so not helping.” I bend over my laptop, trying to tune out the frivolity around me.
“When you invited me to a study session in the lounge, I didn’t think you meant actual studying,” Nick complains to Mary Kate, who’s poised on his lap, her sheaf of Heaney poems spread on the desk in front of her as though she’s actually reading him.
It’s pretty obvious from the way she keeps wriggling in her boy-shaped seat that she’s not.
“Studying is good for you.” MK taps the side of his skull. “Grows your brain.”
“Pretty hard for that brain to grow when you’re diverting all my blood flow elsewhere,” Nick tells her with a wink.
“Gross. Get a room already, would you?” I flip the page. Nothing. I’ve got nothing on this essay started, it’s due in two days, and I need to knock it totally out of the ballpark. No, not just the ballpark. Out of the whole baseball league. This needs to be the literal best essay I ever write in my life.
My pencil taps anxiously on the blank outline. So far all I’ve managed to write is the word Outline across the top of the page.
“You’re one to talk, Harpy.” Nick sticks out his tongue. I really regret that MK finally got around to telling him my name. “Maybe we should take a page out of your book and get a confessional booth instead.”
My cheeks flame. I shove my chair back, about to slam my book shut and head to the library instead, where at least I can sulk about my total lack of inspiration in peace and quiet.
That’s when a warm hand comes to rest on my shoulder, and squeezes gently. “Quit giving the girl at hard time, Schwartz. You’re just jealous.” The owner of the hand, a native Londoner to judge by his thick Cockney accent, slides into the seat beside me. Honey brown eyes lock onto my blue ones, and a warm, off-center smile follows. “I have to admit, though, I am a little jealous, too. The new girl is here for a grand total of two weeks and she steals my crown as reigning King of Daring Pulls.”
I swallow hard. The way he’s looking at me is almost . . . hungry. I’m not sure if I like it or not. I lick my lips. “Um, what’s a pull?”
He busts into laughter, and Mary Kate joins in. “You know, going out on the pull, pulling a hot gal—or guy, I guess, in your case.” I must still look blank, because he speaks even slower now. “Picking someone up. To hook up with them. Tell, us, who was the lucky bloke?”
Now my cheeks could practically ignite a small forest fire. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” I say, even as I level a sideways glare at MK. I thought I knew enough about Brit-speak to get around here, but she definitely did not explain fancy dress or pulls in any of her emails.
Great. Is this going to be my new reputation? Queen of Pulling?
The new guy takes pity on me. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll steal my title back in no time. Confessional booths will be old hat soon enough, once I complete my plan to seduce a girl in the middle of Templars Square.”
Now all of us snort at once. I really can’t imagine anyone allowing themselves to be seduced in the largest shopping center in Oxford. “Gee, thanks for your sacrifice,” I reply.
“I dunno, though, King of Pulls,” Mary Kate interrupts. “Harper might have you beat there. I mean, if even half the things she writes in her letters are true . . . ”
I kick her under the table. “Whatever happened to sisters before misters?” I grumble.
“Hey, I’m just saying, your reputation’s as good as his.” MK winks.
The King of Daring Pulls shrugs a shoulder. “Well, perhaps she and I should have a contest of wills. See who pulls the other one first.” He winks, so fast I wonder if I imagined it.
“How about you two get a room instead?” Nick mumbles from across the table, probably not enjoying the way Mary Kate is still giggling from this guy’s last joke.