[2022 Wattys Winner] When love cynic Madison Watson starts university, she vows to follow three simple rules.
One: Work out at least twice a week.
Two: Get an internship.
Three: Stay away from men.
But after a chance encounter with th...
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"Oh my god," my roommate exclaimed, pausing her intense make-out session with her pothead boyfriend to run her wide eyes from my head to my toes. "You look hot."
I patted down my black high-waisted leather jeans, admiring the way they synched my waist beneath my off-the-shoulder black tank top. Black-on-black-on-black. Reliable. Easy. Safe.
Perfect.
"Thanks." I tried to smile, ignoring the intense way that her boyfriend was staring at my ass.
"You know it still stands, right?" She cocked her head, running a hand through her boyfriend's unkempt hair. "Our offer to join us one night—"
I grabbed my blue denim jacket and raced out of the room, slamming the door behind me. Ick.
At ten past nine, I arrived outside of the student lounge, home to the Art Club's mixer. Of course I did. Despite James triggering me into the next dimension, I had to go to that party. Because, unbeknownst to me, Ivy had already submitted the revised outline of our project to Devi. And unless I wanted to look like a fool in front of my cool-as-ice lab partner and my mentor on the same day, then I had no choice but to follow up on our original plan.
Which meant that Dex was getting a wingwoman. And, so long as I could help it, he was getting Holly.
Let's get one thing straight; I was done believing in love. I was certainly done with believing in true, everlasting, one-soulmate-for-every-person type of love. And I really didn't believe in happily ever after.
I believed in lust. In companionship. In convenience. I was really starting to think that, in the digital age, and with an infinite amount of information at one's disposal, anyone could transform themselves into another person's idea of the perfect companion. The concept of a soulmate, then,was a construct, and absolutely any Tom, Dick, or Harry could fake it if they really wanted to. Eli. Me. Hell, even Dex.
That was my opinion, and that was mine and Ivy's hypothesis. I was beyond sure that we could prove it to be true, meaning that I was one step closer to securing Devi's internship, and another step closer to ticking off one of my college resolutions. Lord knew that number three wasn't going exactly to plan.
The student lounge had been utterly transformed by the time I stepped through its grand wooden arch. Gone were the round desks students used during the day when they yearned for a quiet place to study. The chairs and lounges were pushed up against the walls, replaced by a makeshift dancefloor, while the reception desk had been turned into an industrial-themed bar, decorated with sculptures and pieces of artwork by the students putting on the event. Portable lighting sprayed down on the party-goers, strobing in time to the music in flashes of purple and blue and red.
Art students sure knew how to party.
"I told you!" a voice cried over the obnoxiously loud doof doof of whatever Drake track was spinning overhead. "I told you she'd come!"
