The Studying Hours(10)
Gives it a few taps.
“What name am I looking for?”
“OneTapUofI. All one word.”
Type, type, type.
Narrowed eyes widen, dark eyebrows shoot up. Her pert mouth falls open a fraction in horror when she finds it. “This is terrible! You are so crude.”
I chuckle again. “Read it out loud so I can get a good laugh.”
“No!”
“Oh come on, Jim! She had it coming.”
“No! You called her a troll—that is so uncalled for.” She glances down at the screen of her phone. “This whole tweet is terrible.”
“Careful, you’re repeating yourself.”
“Oh shut up, you—”
“Asshole?”
“Yes.”
“Dickhead?”
“Yes.”
“Douchebag?”
She titters. “You said it, not me.”
“No one has ever accused me of being a gentleman, Jim.” Casually I regard her from across the table. “Haven’t you ever done anything you’ve regretted?”
She pretends to consider the question. “You mean like letting a stranger convince me to kiss him in public?”
“Ha ha. But yeah, I guess that’s exactly what I mean.”
This time Jameson does think about it, humming to herself as she deliberates on a reply. She inhales, drawing in a deep breath, and says with a straight face, “Once I ate at White Castle. Does that count as a regret?”
“Sure, why not.”
“I call it the White Castle of Regret.”
I laugh, then she laughs, and soon our eyes are watering tears of mirth.
“Holy shit that’s funny,” I enthuse, wiping my cheeks dry. “You don’t look like you have any sense of humor at all, but you’re hilarious.”
She’s pleased. Smug. “Occasionally I’ve been known to throw out a few zingers.”
“I still want to know more about a girl who wears pearls to the library but willingly makes out with a stranger.”
“Willingly? That’s a stretch.”
“Stop evading the question.”
Slumping back in her seat, James rests her head against the chair. “I’m rather shy—”
“You are not fucking shy, but nice try.”
“Fine, I’m not shy—but if you really must know, sometimes I wear pearls and cardigans to the library so I look serious and so people leave me alone.” She shoots me a pointed look. “Which, obviously, does. Not. Work.”
“Obviously. It’s not a very clever disguise and it makes you look like a kindergarten teacher—and not even a hot one.”
“Gee, thanks,” she sarcastically replies. “My point is I’m having a hard time keeping my grades up. I have to work really hard at it—nothing comes natural to me, especially chemistry, which I hate but have to pass.” She sighs. “My major is pre-pharmacy but I’m having second thoughts. One of my biggest regrets is declaring so soon. Sometimes I wish I was more adventurous, although I’m pretty content watching everyone else act like assholes at parties.”
“You don’t seem to shock very easily.” I’m referring to our meeting in the hallway, when the redhead was grabbing my cock.
“No, I don’t. My mom does porn, so…” She shrugs nonchalantly, dragging out her sentence. “You ain’t got nothin’ I haven’t ever seen in one of her movies.”
The bombshell has my eyes bugging out of my skull and I practically leap out of my chair. “What!”
A burst of laughter spills from her lips and before I know it, she’s sputtering. Falling out of her seat, waving her hands around, trying to calm herself. “Sit down, sit down, I’m kidding. Oh my god, you should see your face.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“So you keep saying.” The smirk returns. “It’s like looking in the mirror, isn’t it?”
Sebastian
She’s the last person I expect to see when I round the corner of the business school, but she’s exactly who I see when I bend to tie my shoe. I glance up when her familiar black patent leather ballet flats come into view.
I rise to my full height and straighten.
Jameson is wearing glasses today—black rimmed—and a long, smooth ponytail trails down her back. I can’t tell if she’s wearing a cardigan under her navy jacket, but I hypothesize that she is—and that it’s basic. Buttoned from the bottom all the way up to her throat. Probably in some boring color like gray.
Or dark blue.
“Hey Oz.” She greets me with her own onceover, checking me out from top to bottom. “You’re not following me around campus now, are you? Cause I’d hate to call security on you.”
“Yup. I’m only pretending to tie my shoe so I can look up your skirt.”
She’s wearing jeans and a smile. “Oz, you met Allison and Hayley at the party—this is our other roommate, Sydney.”
“Hey.” I greet them both with a huge grin because, well, Sydney is almost as good looking as Allison and Hayley. All three of Jameson’s roommates are the kind of sexy that hits you immediately, not the subtle, classy kind that sneaks up on you slowly, the way Jameson’s does.
The hot roommate’s mitten-covered hand shoots out. “Hi. Gosh, you’re so… I don’t know if you remember me, but we met at Welcome Week in August? I’m on the dance team?”
Shit, have I fucked her already? I got pretty wasted during Welcome Week at a frat’s afternoon pre-party and can’t remember shit about that weekend.
“You probably don’t remember me,” she prattles on. “You were working the information table for the athletic department. You’re a football player, right?”
“No.”
Not even close.
At Sydney’s crestfallen expression, James eases closer to elbow me in the ribcage. I give her a What did I say? look and shrug my wide shoulders because honestly, I’m not on the goddamn football team. What does she expect me to say?
“The dance team, huh?” I ask. “Yeah, yeah, that’s right. Now I remember. Good to meet you—again.” I shoot her a winning smile; I mean, why wouldn’t I? Sydney is hot. Flat chested beneath her Iowa Dance Team sweatshirt, but still pretty hot.
Jameson grabs her roommate by the arm.
“Anyway, good running into you, Oz.” She starts walking, attempting to haul Sydney away. “We’re late.”
“Where you headed?” I take a few steps forward, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. “Maybe we’re headed in the same direction.”
“Nope. We’re done on campus. A little late getting back to our apartment.”
“Late getting back to your apartment?”
Jameson clears her throat. “If you must know, our roommate Allison’s parents are coming to town, and we told her we’d help clean the place.”
“No library?”
“Not tonight.”
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to meet me in the back corner?” I give her a wicked grin and wiggle my brows.
Sydney’s mouth falls open.
Jameson, however, looks dismayed. “God, no. I don’t have time for that tonight—especially when you still owe me that money.”
“Why do you keep bringing that shit up?”
“Because you owe me money.”
“Technically I owe you money, but think of it this way: you’re not really out any actual cash. You just haven’t had a gain.”
“Technically you made a verbal commitment to pay me half of your earnings. I’m the one who earned it.”
True, but still…
I switch gears. “If you don’t come to the library, who’s going to help me with my chemistry?”
Jameson squints at me, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose with a cute little laugh. “You are not taking chemistry classes!”
“Fine, but I like making chemistry, and isn’t that almost the same thing?”
Sydney’s dark brown eyes volley back and forth between Jameson and me then widen when her roommate lets out an unladylike snort.
“I’ll tell you what Jim, since we’re friends, I’m going to help you out. If pretty little Sydney here has classes that would be helpful for chemistry—”
“Do not listen to him Sydney. He is not taking chemistry.”
“Jim, you’re hurting my feelings.” I place a palm over my heart solemnly. “Sydney, what do you say? You look like the kind of girl who knows her way around a…lab room.”
Her toe taps on the ground. “Oz, seriously?”
“My point is, if you’re free today, Sydney, why not let me take you for a burger? Are you as hungry as I am sweetheart? Wanna help me study?”
Sydney nods zealously. “I can do that. I’ve got Bio Chem now so it would be a breeze.””
“No hard feelings if I take her out, right Jimbo?”
Her face is an impassive mask, the only tell of any indecision her brief nibbling of that pink lower lip.
I gaze back at Jameson, trying to figure her out. Is she seriously going to stand there and let me take out her roommate without putting up a fight for me? Who the hell does that? Every chick on campus is dying to date me, bang me, or trap me into a relationship—and James doesn’t want to do any of those things.