Is Bridgeport big enough for Kae, Robyn, Alex and Jasmine? They're all beautiful, captivating, and a little bit crazy... but there can be only one It Girl.
[ Based on the It Girl series by Cecily Von Ziegesar ]
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Jasmine lingered in the screening room in the basement of Hopkins Hall after Signor Giraldi dismissed his Advanced Italian class. They'd just watched La Strada—much preferable to sitting in a boring old classroom and watching the spit bubble at the corners of Signor Giraldi's mouth as he conjugated Italian verbs. Something about watching old movies, especially old foreign movies, in the dark, leaning back in the leather reclining seats of the screening room, made Jasmine's pulse race. Movie theaters were so freaking sexy. She was ready to tear someone apart. A very specific someone, in fact.
"I can close up, signor," Jasmine purred as the others filed out of the room and Signor Giraldi tried to look like he hadn't just slept through the two-hour film. "I was planning on doing some work for this week's Cinephiles meeting, if you don't mind. I'll be sure to lock the door behind me."
Signor Giraldi glanced at his watch. Rumor had it that he and his wife, who lived in Thompson Hall, one of the girls' dorms, had a booty call every afternoon at 3:30 sharp—which was fortunate for his Tuesday afternoon students, as he always let them go a little early. "Grazie, Signorina Sanders." Signor Giraldi smiled absently at her before quickly dashing out the door. Apparently, black-and-white Italian films turned him on too.
The second she was alone, Jasmine dimmed the lights again, propped her brown leather boots onto the arm of the chair in front of her, and arranged the hem of her minidress higher on her thigh. With her blonde hair parted perfectly in the middle and falling in a straight curtain around her face, she felt like an oversexed go-go girl from the '70s. She closed her eyes and waited for Rakim.
The soundproof door creaked open behind her. "Hey."
Jasmine pressed her eyelids together. Her heart thudded eagerly in her chest. It had been three days since they'd been alone. Last night at dinner, the two of them had sat across from each other at a table filled with their friends, and although Jasmine had been able to feel the weight of Rakim's gaze on her face, she'd refused to treat him differently than she did any of the other guys. Which meant that she flirted with him, but only as much as she did with everybody else. She could tell Rakim had been a little disappointed, but that was just the way it had to be. She couldn't very well have the entire campus know she was into a freshman.
Jasmine squirmed in her seat. Ten seconds had passed since the door creaked. Was that not him? Her eyes flew open.
"Ack!" she squeaked. Rakim was standing two feet in front of her, leaning against the back of the chair in front of her, staring down at her face. "Jesus! You scared the shit out of me." Shivers ran down her spine. She hated being surprised—almost as much as she liked it.
"Sorry, m'lady." Rakim pulled his left hand from behind his back, revealing a single pink-and-white flower. "For you."
Jasmine politely sniffed at the flower, pretending to be unimpressed. In truth, she loved it when guys brought her things. Last year Bradley Miles, a senior lacrosse player, had heard about Jasmine's sweet tooth and had tried to woo her with candy, employing other Waverly girls to leave packs of Starbursts outside her door and putting tiny gold boxes of Godiva chocolates in her mailbox every day. It was fun to be showered with attention, but Jasmine could only eat so much candy before she'd start to bloat.
