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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
@AlecItoRussell: Hey, Nat! Nice to hear from you. Not gonna lie, this was a little unexpected, but...
The urge to giggle slapped me across the face. Me? Giggle?
Shaking my head, I leaned back in the chair. Alec Ito-Russell messaged me.
I glanced around as if others were experiencing the same smorgasbord of feelings. A guy drooled one of the other desks in the small library as he took a nap, Google Doc on his screen abandoned.
The message lit up my phone again.
I gripped the chair's armrests and grimaced. No, Instagram. I'm not going to click to expand, 'cause then he'd know I read it.
To reply, or not to reply, that was the question. Basically, I became the whiny main character of a Shakespeare tragedy that never shut up.
The sleeping guy mumbled something in his sleep.
My jaw clenched. Since when did I become that girl, obsessing over boys? I had an article to hand in tomorrow, and I was farther in space than Pluto when Ty told me about whatever happened with a fan. Clearly, the Bathroom Incident™️ wasn't enough drama for him.
I tapped a loose fist against my lips.
Grabbing my phone, I typed out a quick message. There was one person who'd know what happened and lived in the same dorm– Micah Miller.
▿▿▿
I pressed a hand against the cold glass door to enter the caf.
A smattering of students sat on the uncomfortable plastic chairs spaced along the rows of long tables, but Micah was nowhere in sight.
Scratching my temple, I pulled out my phone and swiped into our conversation. I texted Micah in the library, and she responded right away. For sure, come meet me in the caf!
I passed the booths and round tables, but her blonde head wasn't there either. The burned stench from spillovers greeted me as I crossed into the area where they served food.
None of the late-night deep-fried snacks appealed to me. I scaped a hand through my kind of greasy hair. Yikes. After I got this article over with, a hot shower was next on my list.
I found dented stainless steel counters and hot plates that kept food trays warm for serving, but no Micah.
Rubbing a hand down the leg of my sweats, I rounded the corner to the deli section.
A group of students lined up at the cash, one girl among them.
I poked my tongue into my cheek. Same petite build as Micah, but no blonde hair. Er, kinda blonde hair? More strawberry blonde with highlights. A lot could change in two years, I guess.
