Page 3 of More Than Chemical
Priya’s brows knitted together. “What’s so funny?”
“His name is perfect.” I sat back in the seat. “What comes to mind when you think of Texas?”
“Football,” Emma said.
“Cowboys,” Priya suggested.
“Good guesses.” I nodded. “But I was thinking more along the lines of ‘Everything’s bigger in Texas,’ if you know what I mean…”
We all giggled together.
“Um.” Priya’s voice hummed like the radiator in our dorm room. “Here he comes again.”
He brushed by, heading for the door. Probably to find a different bus with open seats. This time, I checked him out as best I could. Weird that we’d lived in the same dorm for an entire semester and he didn’t look familiar to me. Just for fun, I scrolled down my list of requirements for the kind of guy I’d consider having sex with to fix my sleep problem.
Number one: appearance. Texas had a good shoulder width, a trim waistline, and a strong profile. But he’d moved so fast, it was hard to get a complete assessment. I might not have enough information to determine whether he actually fulfills the appearance section of my list.
Number two: attraction. I didn’t feel any butterflies fluttering, so there was no instant pull, but again, I didn’t have enough data.
However, I knew for certain he’d never pass the rest of my requirements.
Number three: personality. If Texas’s reputation was any indicator, he’d be one of those self-absorbed guys. The kind I had no time for.
Number four: social skills. He’d been alone on the bus with no friends, which might mean he had no sense of humor either.
Number five: intelligence. This one was the most difficult to satisfy. This and number two—attraction—were rarely, if ever, packaged together. I should know. Most of Priya’s and my engineering classmates were male, and all of them were smart. But could I find one I was attracted to in the bunch?
No.
I raised my chin. Priya was wrong. Texas was not even close to being a good candidate for Operation: Get Laid.
Campus was located in the heart of Minneapolis–St. Paul, and it took the bus only fifteen minutes to drive to the plunge site in an urban neighborhood. Lake Nokomis was surrounded by pedestrian and bike paths that had been converted into cross-country ski trails for the winter. When we pulled to a stop, my stomach tangled like a ball of string. I still didn’t want to do this, not at all.
Maybe with so many people, no one would know whether I plunged or not.
Emma found us a spot in a warming tent and peeled off her jacket. “When we get up there, the three of us should hold hands and go in together. It’ll be awesome.”
A pang shot through my chest. Forget about getting lost in the crowd. Emma wasn’t going to let me out of her sight.
Soon we were on the wooden boardwalk leading out over the ice to the hole. A thermometer showed a balmy six degrees. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. The only things between the ice-cold water and me were my fleece joggers, tennis shoes, and shirt.
My stomach churned. While others around us shouted and cheered, I focused on me. The thought of what we were about to do was making me sick.
“When this is over,” I said, “I’m going to cocoon myself in bed for the rest of the weekend.”
“Don’t forget about tonight.” Emma hooked her arm through mine.
“What’s tonight?” I asked.
“Our floor is going to that house party,” Priya said.
Great. The first party night of the semester. I’d stress about how much alcohol I should or shouldn’t consume, and then, when we got back home, my anxiety would mushroom. When everyone else passed out, I’d still be wide awake.
Suddenly, we were there—on the platform. Below us, an EMT in a wet suit stood chest-high in black water. Behind us, people waited for their turn. I could still make a run for it, straight across the ice and into the tents.
Emma grabbed my hand and smiled.
She and Priya jumped, and I was forced to follow.
