Page 76 of How to Win the Girl

You’re sitting here ignoring me.

Are you in class? I don’t see you.

Um. He didn’t so much as look for me, but whatever.

HE IS NOT LOOKING.

I huff, setting my phone aside, hiding the screen by stuffing it in the front pocket of my backpack so I’m not tempted to check for another message from him; I’ll handle this during the break in forty minutes—if I can stand waiting that long.

Why do I feel a little defeated? I hadn’t imagined how well the date went last night, and I certainly hadn’t imagined the erection in his pants as he was kissing me good night. That he can’t fake.

Maybe he was just an asshole.

Maybe he was the stereotypical jockhole, and I was fooling myself.

As the lecture continues, I can hardly concentrate, my mind wandering, replaying every exchange with Drew over and over again from the past two weeks.

Twenty minutes go by.

Then thirty-five.

My knee bounces anxiously until at the front of the class, Professor Randall dismisses us for our quick break.

Drew stands, heading for the drinking fountain and exiting the lecture hall before I can get to him.

"Hey, Drew!" I call, hating the sound of my voice as I try to rise above the noise. He leans over the drinking fountain near a sea of mingling students, none of them anxious to get back to class.

He straightens and turns, water dripping from his chin. “Oh sorry, were you waiting?” Pause. “Forgot my water bottle at home.”

He steps aside, presumably so I can use the bubbler.

“No, you goof, I was waiting for you.” I give him a flirty tap on the upper arm.

“Waiting forme?”

“I thought you were going to sit by me, but maybe you thought it would be too distracting in class.” My joking little lilt escapes his notice, and Drew frowns.

“You thought I was going to sit by you?” He scratches the back of his head the way he usually does. “Have we met?”

“Have we met?” I repeat, the teasing tone still in my voice. “Um. A few times.” Weirdo.

“Sorry, I meet a lot of people and have a bad memory when it comes to faces.”

Pretty sure my mouth falls open. “Why are you being weird?”

He shrugs apologetically, then stretches out his hand. It sits suspended between us.

“I’m Drew Colter.”

“Am I supposed to shake that?” I tease, nudging him. “Who even shakes hands anymore?”

Drew looks at me with a confused expression, taking back his hand.

He runs a hand through the hair I could have sworn had just been cut. Didn’t he just get a cut? Crap, maybe I’m the one who has a bad memory.

“I meet a lot of people, and sometimes it takes me a while to remember names and faces.”

“Do you have amnesia?” I blurt out rudely. “Did you take a hard hit at practice?”

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