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Nicole puts a big star beside Elijah’s name. “Done.”

“And I have calculus with Caleb, so move him next after that.”

“Perfect!” Nicole shifts her attention from the page to me. “You know, you don’t have to take turns. You could flirt with them simultaneously and see who asks you out first.”

Dragging my lower lip through my teeth, I stare at Nicole as the words practice run pop into my head again, and the idea flickers to life.

She cocks her head, scrutinizing me through narrow slits. “What are you thinking?”

“Would getting it over with be a mistake?”

“Don’t look at me! I traded in my v-card after junior prom.”

And just like that, I decide the idea deserves a chance. Why not explore my sexuality a little while I’m young? It’s not like I have to go through with anything if I change my mind. “Is it too late to snag a date for Valentine’s Day?”

She barks out a laugh. “Are you kidding? That’s almost a whole week away! We have plenty of time.”

Two. Weeks. “Guess I’d better get cracking if I wanna do this . . . without looking desperate.”

“Not desperate. Motivated.” Nicole’s eyes sparkle. “You don’t even need the whole two weeks. You can pull this off in three dates.”

I suppress a shudder. “So that’s the goal? Third date?”

“Why not?” She shrugs. “I slept with Jeremy on the third date—coffee on Monday, ice cream on Wednesday, and an early movie followed by heavy breathing on Friday.”

“I think maybe I’ll stretch out those first three dates.” For as long as I can!

Nicole rests the tip of her pen against the paper. “Okay, let’s map this out so we’re on the same page.”

I agree, with a shaky nod. In the back of my mind, I can’t help thinking this whole plan is borderline crazy. As in, the worst possible idea ever. I blame my harebrained mother for planting the seed in the first place.

“What’s the main goal here?”

I arch a brow.

“Besides that.” She rolls her eyes. “Is the guy a means to an end, or are you looking for something more permanent?”

I hadn’t thought that far ahead. If men can separate sex and love, how hard can it be?

“Boyfriend . . .” Nicole taps her pen against the table in a rapid staccato. “Or booty call?”

The phrase booty call curdles in my brain, making me gag. “Definitely boyfriend.” I can only hope I do a better job picking the next one.

While I fight off a panic attack, Nicole snatches the list and starts scribbling down the details of the plan, asking me questions here and there, until the entire scope of my eventual deflowering is captured in royal-blue ink. On one side of the page, she listed the guys who fit my stringent criteria, and on the other, she scrawled out a much longer list of guys who didn’t, along with all the reasons why.

She lays down her pen. “Now we get the ball rolling.”

“And how would you suggest we do that?”

“You have new underwear and a new attitude. Next, we make sure you can access the guys.” A huge grin spreads across her face. “And I know the perfect way to accomplish that.”

The diabolical sparkle in her eyes sends a shiver down my spine, but curiosity gets the best of me. “Okay, what’s your brilliant idea?”

“Like all the best marketing plans, we’ll use word of mouth.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’d better not be talking about posting on CampusBuzz or worse . . . TikTok.”

Nicole’s face twists into an over-the-top display of outrage. “I’d never post something as private as your hymen status on the internet.”