Page 87 of Faking the Goal

"Of course you are." She groans. "You always say you're busy now. I swear, I need to make an appointment just to get drunk with you."

I snort. "My schedule's been insane. I still have two papers due before winter break, and the winter issue deadline is breathing down my neck. I'm booked and stressed."

"Okay, first of all, rude of your life to be inconvenient right now." She loops her arm through mine again and steers me toward the stairs. "Second of all, we haven't gone out in forever. Like, actual forever. You've been MIA for weeks, T. Weeks. Do you know how offensive that is to me personally?"

"Somehow I think you've found a way to cope."

"That's not the point." She gives me a dramatic look over the top of her sunglasses, which she apparently sees no reason to take off just because we're indoors. "You're missing out. There've been so many new guys at the parties lately. And I'm talking hot, T. Like, worth breaking a dry spell for hot."

I laugh despite myself. "I've just been busy, Claire. And honestly... I'm kind of tired of clubbing and partying all the time."

She gasps like I've just confessed to drowning puppies for fun. "Who are you, and what have you done with Taylor Lewis?"

"I'm serious."

"No, I heard you. I'm just choosing not to accept it." She narrows her eyes at me. "What's going on with you? You used to be fun."

I lift a shoulder. "Maybe I'm trying to turn over a new leaf."

Claire stares at me.

I stare back.

Then she bursts out laughing.

"No, really."

That only makes her laugh harder. "Taylor, be serious."

"I am being serious."

She grabs my forearm and stops me in the middle of the quad. "What does that even mean? Turn over a new leaf? You sound like somebody's forty-year-old aunt who just discovered yoga and gave up tequila."

I grin. "Maybe I'm trying to be more responsible. Mature. Stable. You know, a woman of substance."

Claire's face pinches. "That is the least sexy sentence I've ever heard."

"Growth isn't always pretty, Claire."

"Apparently." She starts walking again. "But don't you miss going out? The parties? The guys? You used to live for that shit."

I sigh because, yeah, sometimes I do.

I miss getting dressed up with nowhere responsible to be. I miss the loud music, the thrill of locking eyes with a stranger across a room, the buzz in my bloodstream after two drinks and a bad idea. I miss the adrenaline, the easy distraction of bodies and lights and noise, the way a good night out could make everything else disappear for a few hours.

But lately, I've also been thinking a lot more about the other side of it. How easy it is to let some random guy get too close when I barely know his name. How many times I've handed out my number without thinking twice or gone home with someone I'd met hours earlier because it seemed fun at the time.

I know I've been reckless. I always knew, really. I just never had a reason to care about the possible consequences until now.

And now some creep won't leave me the fuck alone.

I don't know if those two things are connected, but I'm not exactly eager to keep taking chances while I figure it out.

Besides, I've been doing pretty damn well lately.

"Well," I say, "let's just say I found another source of dopamine."

Claire looks at me suspiciously. "And what's that?"