Page 15 of Shutout
“For what?” Dee asks, already forgetting the previous topic.
I turn the kombucha bottle in my hands. “I might have told Mina earlier that I’m ready.” Dee leans forward from acrossthe table like I’m about to give them the winning lottery numbers. “To fool around a bit.”
“What? But I thought you hated men now?”
I chuckle. “I mean, kinda. But I can’t make out with myself.”
“It is a struggle.” Mina shakes her head in the most defeated way. “But shall we hit the bar and see who we can flirt with?”
“Let’s hit it.” We slide off the booth, ready to go on the prowl.
Over the summer, I decided that the antidote to my boy issues is to treat them the same way they’ve treated me. Like I’m expendable. And since I have annoying hormones too, maybe this is the arrangement that will tide me over until I find my soulmate. Or don’t.
I’m starting to think that romance books have been lying to me my whole life—which I can’t ever tell Maddie, my brother’s wife, since she writes my favorite ones. It’s just that so far real life is far from what’s on the pages, and I definitely prefer the latter.
It takes us some maneuvering until we make room for ourselves at the bar, our backs against it as we peruse the crowd. I hitch one of my boots against the bottom, elbow on the bar as I take a swig of kombucha like it’s beer. A tryhard pose? Maybe. But I’m comfortable this way, which helps me curb my reflex of breaking eye contact with cute guys.
It takes a while. Dee’s the first to get snatched up, proof of the Strikes’ popularity in campus. I keep fanning my gaze across the place, until I make eye contact with a guy—and he doesn’t look away. He’s cute in that boy next door kinda vibe, and the second I offer a lopsided little smile, he starts heading over.
“Remember,” Mina says beside me. “Whoever doesn’tmanage to make out with anyone tonight is buying the groceries next time.”
“I’ll manage. You should worry about yourself.”
“Oh, wow. I’ve created a monster.” She laughs.
I smile at her. “No, you gave me confidence.”
“You had it in you all along.” She pats my arm right as cute guy reaches us.
“Hi there.”
Not the most creative greeting, but hey. I’m not looking for a husband tonight.
“Hi yourself.” I tuck my hair behind my ear. According to Mina, guys like that.
“Wow.” He props his hand against the bar and leans closer. “You’re like, really hot.”
I can practically feel Mina vibrating with the need to laugh, and I know that’s exactly what could happen if I even glance her way. So I don’t. I focus on this decent-looking-but-not-show-stopping guy who thinks he has way more swag than he does.
Beggars can’t be choosers and all that, especially when I have a bet to win.
“Wanna dance?” I ask him.
“Uh, sure?” He sounds uncertain now, like either he thought the riveting conversation was going to continue, or like maybe his dancing skills aren’t great. Joke’s on him—mine are probably worse. It’s always fun though, and maybe if he drops the tryhard act we can work our way up to a kiss.
He offers his hand and I take it. His skin’s a bit clammy, maybe he’s more nervous than he lets on.Me too, bud.
“For the groceries!” Mina calls out behind me and I have to bite my lips not to laugh.
“What was that?” cute guy asks over his shoulder while navigating us to the only area that remains somewhat open. A few people are dancing to an ancient Flo Rida song.
“Nothing.” My eyes fall on his shoulders. They’re nice. Like they have no trouble carrying a backpack. I shouldn’t compare them to a different pair I saw earlier. “So, what’s your name?”
“Jayden. You?”
“Olivia.”
Huh. Our initials would make a funny pair. OJ. Orange juice. Ex’s and me made OT, overtime, which was an annoying hockey reference. Brooke and I made body odor, and I used to tease him about it.
