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Caught in his snare, I can’t find my voice, so I nod.

“Told ya,” Nicole sings. “Kennedy doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.” She lets out a wicked laugh. “Not yet, anyway.”

I groan. She did not say that.

She turns back to me with a wink. “You’ll have to fend for yourself today; I’m leaving campus after lunch. I forgot I made a dentist appointment weeks ago, and I can’t change it now or they’ll charge me a ridiculous penalty.”

“That’s fine.” I nod, still in a daze. “I’ll see you after.”

“Meet me at the Beanery,” she calls out as she backs away. “We can compare notes after day one.”

Around us, everyone is rushing to class. Everyone but me . . . and Jordan, who stares at me as if seeing me for the first time.

My gaze wanders to his tight pants again, as I fill the awkward silence. “What’s with the red leather? Did you wake up this morning and decide to impersonate The Flash?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, princess”—a slow grin spreads across his face—“but I don’t do anything in a flash.”

His meaning slowly sinks in, and my throat constricts until I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “You know, wearing tight pants destroys your sperm count.”

His grin widens. “I had no idea you were so concerned about my sperm count.”

I swallow a mouth full of saliva, choking as it goes down the wrong pipe.

Instead of attempting the Heimlich, or patting my back, or even asking if I’m okay, he laughs.

“That’s not what I . . . I didn’t . . .”

Note to self: No more reading the reproductive health pamphlets Mom brings home from work.

Jordan brings his lips to my ear. “My package is fine, thanks for asking.”

13

It never occurs to me to skip the second half of the day. The minute Nicole said she had a dentist appointment, I should’ve snuck back to the sorority house to await her return. No one would’ve noticed. But did I do that? No. I decided to tough it out and take on the whole campus without backup. An idea I regret the minute I sit down in my front row seat in physics.

Apparently, Professor Breen isn’t the only member of the faculty aware of my newfound fame. Creepy Professor Bannon, with his 1970s porn-stache, keeps shooting me looks that make my skin crawl. I’m pretty sure the guy would sign up if it wasn’t strictly against university policy. I’d be embarrassed for him if I wasn’t too busy being grossed out.

Class ends, and I jump out of my chair, wasting no time as I escape the lab.

“Hi, Professor Whittaker!” I wave at my faculty adviser as I head for lunch.

She stares at me as if seeing a walking ad for Ebola. Contempt rolls off her in waves, and I duck my head and pick up my pace, putting as much distance between us as I can. This will undoubtedly make for an awkward academic check-in at the end of the semester.

A few hours without Nicole has me teetering on the verge of a panic attack, drowning in my own indecision. Maybe I should’ve given this whole “get laid” plan a little more thought. Fleeing campus for the rest of the day is looking better by the minute.

Without my best friend running interference, all eyes seem to be on me as I step into the food court for lunch. The lone fish in a giant fishbowl. The homemade cherry pie, hot out of the oven. Everybody wants a piece of me, and there isn’t nearly enough to go around.

All the attention has chased away my appetite, but the last thing I want to do is stand around like an easy target. I need something to keep me busy, so I grab a tray and jump in the first line I come to. One slice of pizza and a bottle of lemonade later, I head for my usual table in the middle of the room.

“Hey, Kennedy.” Elijah brushes past me, flashing a nervous smile. At first, I think he’ll keep walking, but he stops in his tracks and turns around. “It’s good to see you again. I’m so sorry about the other night. I—”

“Please don’t apologize.” I don’t know why, but I reach out and grab his hand. It fits nicely in mine—strong and warm. Despite the abrupt ending to our first date, I like him. And I’m pretty sure he likes me, too. “I had fun. It was . . . nice.”

“I wish it hadn’t ended the way it did.” He groans, slipping his hand from mine to palm the back of his neck.

My hand still tingles where we touched.

“It wasn’t your fault. I probably ate too much chocolate.” As if. But he doesn’t need to know I could’ve eaten that whole cake on my own.