Eighteen-year-old Nat falls for five different boys during her first month at college, but never openly admits her crushes - until one night she drunk texts all five of them. She finds her freshman year turned upside down as she navigates the world...
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"Just tell me who it is!" I said.
The girl wearing pyjamas seated behind Layla slurped pop through a straw and stared at us, openly.
My jaw stiffened as my fingers tapped the tabletop. Nothing to see here, plastic-straw-using-turtle-killing person.
Layla's eyes lit with an inner glow. She shoved my shoulder, offering a smile.
"Chill, Nat. It's @ColbyScott, 'kay?" Layla put my phone down and skewered a strawberry on her fork, juice running down the metal prongs.
I pressed the heel of my palms to my eyes. Not Alec. I swallowed and nodded, shoving my hands into the pouch of my hoodie.
"What did he say?" I fidgeted with the weird fluff that always accumulated on the soft side of the fabric.
I rolled my stiff shoulders. Jeez, could Layla chew a strawberry any slower?
Layla wiped her mouth with a brown napkin. "I thought you didn't want to know?"
"Well, I changed my mind. I can't not know." Tiny beads of sweat collected on my upper lip. I pulled the hoodie away from my body. I'd take it off, but nobody would appreciate seeing my hot pink bra. Should've worn a shirt.
Layla unlocked my phone, thumb sliding over the glass screen.
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. How'd Layla get my password? I shut my mouth. Probably, something last night required her knowledge of my 6-digit code.
"He basically said that he's flattered, but he dropped out before school started. Doesn't want to do the whole long-distance dating thing, so this one was a miss," she said.
A soreness scratched my throat and lungs. I picked up my knife and fork and sawed off a piece of hard waffle. My grip tightened on the cold metal. I'd only known Colby for a day anyways. I stabbed the fried dough and shoved it in my mouth. What did I expect?
"Let's look at the rest of them." Layla drummed her feet against the floor.
"No!" I shook my head. " I don't think I can handle any more rejection," I laughed, the sound hollow.
Layla swatted my arm. "Pfft, that wasn't a rejection. This Colby guy doesn't even go here, so it's onward and upward from here."
My gaze drifted to the heat lamps that turned on as the kitchen staff began serving lunch. A ladle full of lasagne slopped on a plate, sauce splashing over the sides.
My nose wrinkled. "I don't know."
"You know you wanna," she teased.
Pyjama girl tore open a crinkly chip bag. I crossed my arms. Did I want to be her, the girl eavesdropping on someone else's conversation, sitting alone?
