Fat chance that was going to happen.
Instead, I just threw her what I hope looked like a genuine, innocent smile and told her I was late for morning practice. I then gave her a quick peck on the cheek and hauled ass out of there.
When I got to the safety of my car, I ripped open the wretched thing. I thought I was going to hurl my breakfast up in my lap and have to go back inside to change. I got the fuckers’ message loud and clear, even though it took me a few times to fully register it in my panicked mind. In bold, golden lettering, their threat pierced my heart, making me realize that all the fun and games were now officially off the table. Things were about to get real if I didn’t change my tactics. And fast.
These bastards, whoever they are, demand quick results, and so far, I haven’t been able to give them any. To The Society, chasing Stone’s fine ass around campus doesn’t count for shit. They want me to befriend her, become part of her life. However, the way I’ve been going about it hasn’t satisfied them in the least.
Fuckers.
I startle in my seat when a gentle hand grips my bouncing knee, halting it to a stop. I turn to the girl who looks halfway pissed, but surprisingly, halfway impressed, too.
Hmm.
“If you’re going to stay throughout the class, at least be quiet about it. Don’t distract me, Finn. I need to concentrate. Got it?”
I give her a tight nod and keep rigid still, taking an odd breath here and there, hoping that taking oxygen into my lungs doesn’t count as a distraction.
Stone never calls me Finn. Only when she is dead-serious, or at her wits’ end.
If I’m supposed to win brownie points with her, then keeping quiet and not fidgeting in my seat is the least I can do.
Since my mind will no doubt go back to that cursed letter, which is currently burning a hole through my car’s glove compartment, I need to try keeping my thoughts occupied with something else.
My eyes start scanning the small auditorium and see some familiar faces that I wasn’t expecting to encounter so early this morning. Sitting in the third row are Colt and the Ryland twins, who are on their laptops taking down their own detailed notes of today’s lecture. Kennedy and Jefferson Ryland, with their golden-blond heads curled down, type up a storm, looking naturally in sync with each other. Even if it wasn’t public knowledge the two shared a womb, their mannerisms would be a dead giveaway of their familial bond.
Colt, however, doesn’t seem as dedicated to the class. Even from way up here, I can see his screen full of pictures of barely-clad sorority girls soaping up cars from the back-to-school car wash they had over the weekend. The event was supposed to raise money for some Greek-row party to celebrate the first games of the season. But let’s be honest, it was just a lousy excuse for those girls to appease their snobby, debutant moms who look down on anyone wearing a skirt above knee length. They couldn’t care less about any sport, aside from the one that justified them using skimpy bikinis showcasing their summer-tanned bodies and, of course, all the beer they were going to buy from its profits. I predict most of the girls on Colt’s screen will have their stomachs pumped this Saturday. Those tight bodies won’t look so hot with puke all over them.
Say what you will about Stone, but I doubt I would ever see her make such a fool of herself. The girl might wear clothes that harden every dick within a twenty-mile radius, but she owns that shit. And working at that dump of a bar every night, she’s probably seen enough falling-down drunks to ever want to be one.
Not wanting to dwell on the fiasco of this weekend’s boozefest, I continue with my perusal throughout the room, only to have Easton turn in his seat and lock eyes with me, apparently having felt my lingering stare in his direction.
“The fuck are you doing?” Easton mouths across the room, brow furrowed in confusion.
“The fuck does it look like?” I mouth back, discreetly tilting my head to the girl at my side.
When his dark glance picks up on the Southie sitting right next to me, who has her nose inside her notebook, he finally gets the hint. He picks up his phone, and I grab mine, knowing the curious asshole will want to talk this shit out.
Sirsmokesalot: Feeling a bit desperate, r we? U know girls hate that shit, right?
Me: Fuck off!!!!!!
Sirsmokesalot: I’m serious, asswipe. Crashing her Psychology class is a dumb move. You’re gonna piss her off. She’s not exactly the friendly type.
Me: Have any other bright ideas?
Sirsmokesalot: Yeah, like I’m going to help u get laid.
Me: Fucker >:(
Sirsmokesalot: #NotEvenSorry :)
Me: You know it’s all our asses on the line, right, Sherlock?
Sirsmokesalot: And there you go spoiling my fun :(
Me: Fuck your fun :p
Me: …
Me: Got another one today.
Sirsmokesalot: A letter??????
Me: No moron, a hard-on. YES, A LETTER!!!
Sirsmokesalot: Shit. What did it say?
Me: Not now. I’ll show you and the guys over lunch.
Sirsmokesalot: The gist, motherfucker.
Me: Fine, dipshit. Basically it’s just a not-so-gentle reminder that I’m running out of time with u know who.
Sirsmokesalot: Fuck.
Sirsmokesalot: …
Sirsmokesalot: Finn?
Me: Yeah?
Sirsmokesalot: Stop fucking around and get the girl.
Me: I’m trying!
Sirsmokesalot: Try harder!!!
Dick!
It’s easy for him to make demands when I’m the one in the hot seat. But as much as I want to deny it, East is right. I do have to try harder. I just don’t know how. I mean, how much more in her face can I get? It’s not like there is an online instruction manual that I can look up to learn how to woo a girl. Can a girl like Stone even be wooed? And why the hell am I saying woo, all of a sudden?
Shit.
I’m losing it big time. This last letter fucked me up real good.
I’m not sure how much time passes by as I try to come up with ways to get in Stone’s good graces. But all too soon, I see students around us beginning to jump up from their seats, officially announcing the end of the class.
As Stone starts putting her stuff away, I just sit there looking like a chump, feeling even more flustered for not coming up with a strategy that will keep The Society off our backs.
“Move, quarterback. I need to get to my next class,” she snaps at me, but it doesn’t have her usual teasing tone.
Unfortunately, Stone just sounds as frustrated as I feel. Yep, I think I totally fucked this up. Not that it was going well to begin with, but I must have poked the beast one too many times. It’s likely that she’s now planning on how to take a huge chunk out of me as payback.
“You’re pissed, huh?” I ask, staring at my feet, not wanting to face the she-demon head-on.
I hear her let out a long, exaggerated exhale, dropping her book bag back onto her seat.
“Okay, Finn. What do you want? Out with it,” she orders instead of answering my question, placing her hands on her hips to demonstrate she’s over my shit.