Misadventures of a College Girl Read online

  “Okey dokey.” Clarissa looks at her watch. “Oh. We’d better get moving. We’ve only got about four hours before the party, and there’s tons I’ve got to do to you.”

  “You’ve got four hours’ worth of stuff to do to me? What on earth could possibly take so long?”

  “Wax on, wax off.” She snickers. “In your case, literally.”

  I grimace. “You sure that’s necessary? I’ve heard waxing is painful for first-timers.”

  “Oh, it is.” She smiles sweetly. “It’s brutal. So I suggest you take a couple ibuprofen before we get started.” She indicates my thick, curly hair. “If your carpet matches your drapes at all, this isn’t going to be pleasant for you.”

  Chapter Two

  Hip-hop is blaring so loudly in this living room, my molars, eyeballs, and ovaries all feel like they’re thumping in time with the bass-heavy beat. A thick blanket of smoke hangs in the air, refracting colored beams of light shooting across a makeshift dance floor. And people, people, people—almost all of them holding red Solo cups or beer bottles—are packed into every nook and cranny of the cramped space. In other words, I’ve found heaven on earth.

  Clarissa leans in to my ear and shouts to be heard over the loud music. “Lots of potential cherry-poppers here, huh? Wowzers!”

  I nod effusively. That’s an understatement. There are more potential cherry-poppers in this one cramped room than attended my entire high school back home. “Pop, pop, pop!” I shout into Clarissa’s ear.

  Clarissa taps her ear, telling me she didn’t understand the stupid thing I just said, and I swat at the air to tell her never mind.

  “Anyone catch your eye?” Clarissa shouts into my ear.

  Why, yes. Without hesitation, I indicate a tall, blond, muscular guy I’ve been drooling over for the past five minutes, ever since we arrived, though I’m certain he hasn’t noticed I exist. “The golden god!” I shout. “Blue shirt!”

  Clarissa looks to where I’m pointing across the room, and her eyes bug out of her head. She nods effusively and gives me a thumbs-up with both hands. “He looks like a superhero!”

  “Totally!” I peek at him again and swoon. “It’s wishful thinking, I know, but a girl can dream!”

  Clarissa taps her ear, yet again, and I gesture, telling her to forget it.

  Clarissa leans toward my ear. “Let’s talk in the kitchen!”

  And off we go, working our way through the packed crowd. As we walk, I can’t help noticing more than one dude brazenly checking me out. Almost immediately, I lock eyes with a hottie with sparkling brown eyes…but then immediately look down, my cheeks bursting with heat. When I look up again, Brown Eyes is gone, supplanted by a different hottie who happens to be, at this moment, staring at my boobs. When the second hottie’s eyes migrate to mine, he flashes me a panty-melting smile…and I immediately look down again.

  When I look up a third time, a Hawaiian-looking guy in a backward baseball cap is giving me the once-over. Wow. Clarissa didn’t over-promise when she said she could make me into a hottie-magnet tonight. Frankly, I don’t blame all these boys for checking me out. If I were a horny college guy, I’d check me out in this body-baring dress, too. But it’s not my revealing dress alone that’s transformed me into a hottie-magnet tonight. It’s my hair and makeup, too. I had no idea my face could be painted to look this mysteriously bitchy. Or that my curly hair could be straightened into the kind of smooth-as-silk mane I’ve always envied on models in shampoo commercials. If anyone back home saw me looking like this tonight, they wouldn’t even recognize me. Which suits me just fine, of course, considering my rather scandalous mission for the evening.

  Clarissa and I enter the kitchen and begin chatting excitedly about all the potential cherry-poppers in the other room, especially the golden god. But before we’ve finished our conversation, an adorable, nerdy guy approaches and enthusiastically greets Clarissa. After introductions and small talk, I find out this sweet guy is the one who invited Clarissa to the party, and his name is Dimitri. A little more conversation and we learn he’s a third-year biochemistry major with a minor in creative writing.

  “Clarissa told me you tutor a player on the team?” I say.

  “Several.” Dimitri points out a couple of large guys standing around a keg on the far side of the kitchen. “And I also tutor the quarterback, Jake Grayson.” He looks around. “Hmm. I don’t see Jake in the kitchen. He must be in the other room.” Dimitri describes Jake, and it’s immediately clear he’s talking about the golden god.

  “So is Jake single?” Clarissa asks, but when Dimitri’s darling face visibly falls, she quickly adds, “For Zooey. She saw him in the other room and went all weak in the knees.”

  Dimitri smiles knowingly. “Yeah, that’s pretty much the universal female reaction to seeing Jake for the first time.” He looks at me. “He’s single, as far as I know. He was telling me a couple days ago that he’d just broken things off with his high school sweetheart from back home. I’d be happy to introduce you to him, if you’d like. He’s a junior. Great guy. Not a whiff of the usual athlete-womanizer-God-complex cliché with him. He’s definitely a humble, one-woman sort of guy.”

  At that last comment, Clarissa and I exchange deflated looks that say, Dang it.

  “I can’t say the same about some of the other guys on the team,” Dimitri continues, rolling his eyes. “I mean, lots of players are funny and entertaining, super-fun guys to hang out with and all. But when it comes to women, holy crap, they’re just shamelessly on the prowl twenty-four seven. The thing I don’t get is why otherwise sane girls throw themselves at guys like that when…”

  I’ve stopped listening to Dimitri. And I’ve stopped breathing, too. A tall, dark-haired slab of male perfection just strutted into the kitchen and commanded my full attention. Oh, sweet Jesus. Who the hell is that? He’s gorgeous, though in a totally different way than the golden god in the other room. If Mr. Quarterback is Thor, then this hunk of brazen sexuality is Loki. If the golden god is sunshine, this dude is moonlight. If Jake in the other room is my future husband, then this guy blazing his way through the kitchen is the stripper I’d screw as my last hurrah during my bachelorette party in Vegas. Well, winner, winner, chicken dinner.

  My future one-night stand has dark hair, muscles, and tattoos. A strong jawline with a hint of stubble. Not to mention a truly ridiculous body clad in jeans and a tight black T-shirt, which shows off his broad shoulders and bulging arms. Now, to be fair, the golden god in the other room has a ridiculous body, too. But something about the cocky way this guy carries his bountiful assets tells me and everyone within fifty yards of him he knows exactly how to use what the good lord gave him in ways the golden god doesn’t.

  Oh, fuckity. He’s walking in my direction and making my heart pound harder and harder with each step he takes. Finally, when he’s mere feet away from me, I’m able to make out the white lettering emblazoned across his black T-shirt. God’s Gift to Womankind. That’s what Loki’s T-shirt says! Ha! I roll my eyes to myself. And to think I’d been nervous I wouldn’t be able to spot a womanizer at this party.

  Mr. God’s Gift to Womankind stops walking to chat with a group of people, and they high-five him and pat him on the back like he’s the second coming of Christ.

  I grab Clarissa’s arm and lean in to her ear. “Dark hair. Tattoos. Black shirt. Everyone’s fawning all over him.” I indicate with my elbow. “Read his T-shirt. Total douchebag.”

  Clarissa follows my gaze toward the guy…at the exact moment he turns his head away from his group…and looks straight at me. Shocked, I look down at my hands, my heart clanging. Holy hell, that was quite a smolder that boy just directed at me. Damn.

  “Zooey,” Clarissa whispers into my ear, poking my arm. “He’s looking right at you. Look at him!”

  But I can’t muster the courage. The smolder Loki aimed at me was so sexual, it flash-melted the cotton crotch of my panties.

  Clarissa nudges me again. “He’s ogling
you! Ogle him back!”

  “I suck at flirting,” I murmur. “I warned you.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake.” She grabs my forearm and leans in to me. “Now listen to me, Karate Kid. Stare that hottie down right freaking now for a slow count of five. Look into his eyes and think this exact thought—I want to suck your dick. Now do it!”

  I take a deep breath, channel my inner vixen, and look up, resolved to follow my master’s rather shocking instructions…but, dammit, no! God’s Gift to Womankind isn’t looking at me anymore. He’s on the move, working his way through the crowded kitchen, fist-bumping and high-fiving admirers as he goes. “Crap,” I whisper to Clarissa. “I blew it.”

  “No, no. That was just round one,” Clarissa says. “That boy’s not even close to done with you yet.”

  Dimitri wraps up a conversation he’s been having with that Hawaiian-looking dude from the other room and then returns his attention to us. “What’d I miss?”

  “Nothing much,” Clarissa says. “We were just talking about our classes.”

  “What classes are you ladies taking this quarter?”

  Clarissa takes one for the team and launches into telling Dimitri about her class schedule so I can continue eyeball-stalking God’s Gift to Womankind across the kitchen. I peek in his direction and…Gah! He’s staring right at me again! Standing at the keg in the corner with a group of athletic-looking guys and staring right at me!

  My inner voice is screaming at me to look away. But I force myself to maintain eye contact and follow Mr. Miyagi’s instructions to a tee. Slowly, I count to five, my eyes locked with his. I want to suck your dick, I think, making myself blush.

  A broad smile spreads across his handsome face. He licks his lips in a decidedly sexual way, sending warmth oozing into my crotch. I quickly look down at my hands again, my heart racing. Holy crap.

  Chapter Three

  Dimitri returns from talking to some people on the other side of the room. He’s carrying red Solo cups for himself and Clarissa and a bottle of water for me. We girls thank him profusely for his thoughtfulness.

  “My pleasure,” Dimitri says, tipping his invisible cap to us. “At your service.”

  I lean in to Clarissa. “He’s a cutie. Are you feeling romance or friend zone?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I’ve never had sex with anyone other than an alpha-type before. But I must admit I’m a little curious to see if the rumors are true.”

  “Rumors?”

  “That nerds make it all about you.”

  We both giggle.

  “Huh?” Dimitri asks. “What’d I miss?”

  “Just a little girl talk,” Clarissa says breezily. She pats Dimitri’s arm. “Trust me, you’d like it.”

  Dimitri smiles.

  “So, hey, Dimitri, do you know who that dude is with the dark hair and tattoos?” Clarissa asks, motioning toward the keg with her cup. “He was ogling Zooey a few minutes ago.”

  Dimitri glances across the room toward the keg. “Tyler Caldwell,” he says without hesitation. “Junior. Safety. All-American.”

  “Free or strong safety?” I ask.

  “Oh, you know football?”

  I nod. “My dad played in college.”

  Dimitri nods his approval. “Free. And he’s a beast.”

  “Yeah, I figured he’s somebody,” I say. “Everyone keeps fawning all over him.”

  “People treat Tyler like he’s king of the world any given day, but tonight especially. He had a fumble recovery and two picks in last night’s game, including a pick to clinch the win at the very end. It was unbelievable.”

  I gaze covertly across the room at Tyler. “Based on his shirt, he obviously thinks quite highly of himself.”

  “Tyler always wears shirts like that. Honestly, I’m not sure if he’s serious or trying to be funny. I’ve never talked to him. But from what I hear, he’s an egomaniac. The anti-Jake.” He chuckles. “Seriously, you might want to pick another guy to flirt with, Zooey—unless, of course, your goal for the night is to become yet another of Tyler Caldwell’s notoriously long list of conquests.”

  Clarissa and I simultaneously look at each other like “Bingo!” Which, of course, makes us both burst out laughing.

  Dimitri chuckles with us, clearly misunderstanding the reason for our laughter. “I mean, I get why girls are attracted to Tyler. He’s a huge winner in the DNA lottery, obviously, and he’s a beast on the field. Arguably the best safety in the country right now. I can’t fathom how he won’t be a first-round pick in the draft in the spring. And that means he’ll likely be a very wealthy dude one day soon. But, still, even so, it amazes me how girls throw themselves at Tyler and guys like him, even though they know for a fact those kinds of guys aren’t even remotely interested in anything beyond…”

  I tune Dimitri out again. Know your audience, dude.

  I glance toward the keg again, and, much to my sizzling delight, Tyler Caldwell’s looking straight at me again, his blue eyes on fire. And this time, I don’t feel the impulse to look away. You want to make me another conquest on your notoriously long list, Tyler Caldwell? Well, come and get it, stud.

  Okay, yeah, I’m totally channeling Hot Sandy from Grease right now. But it can’t be helped. I don’t have any other template for how to conduct myself in a situation such as this. Continuing to maintain eye contact with Tyler, I bite my lip, the same way Olivia Newton-John did when she wore that black tight-fitting outfit for John Travolta. Come and get it, stud.

  Tyler nods subtly like he’s heard my exact thoughts.

  I flash Tyler a smile that tells him I’m not going to play hard to get tonight, and he beams a gorgeous smile that makes my skin tingle.

  So that’s it. We’re doing this. He knows it. I know it. It’s on.

  Tyler’s body language suggests he’s saying a quick adios to his friends. He takes two loping steps in my direction…just as a stunningly beautiful girl with smooth black hair and porcelain skin appears out of nowhere to throw her arms around his neck. No! The girl leans in to whisper something into Tyler’s ear. Giggles. Presses herself into his muscled arm. Crap!

  I look away, my stomach revolting. Damn, damn, damn! Well, that’ll teach me to wait so long to give a notorious womanizer my “Hot Sandy Eyes.” Stupid, Zooey! I tune back in to Dimitri and Clarissa’s conversation, forcing myself not to peek at Tyler and that gorgeous girl again, even though that’s all I want to do.

  “…and she said Tyler didn’t even pretend to want her phone number,” Dimitri is saying.

  “Sorry, what? Huh?” I blurt. “I missed the first part of that. Who said what now?”

  “My sister’s roommate,” Dimitri replies. “She slept with Tyler last year, and she said he didn’t even pretend to want her phone number afterwards.” He rolls his eyes with obvious disdain. “Apparently, he told her right up front he couldn’t afford any ‘emotional distractions’ during football season—that football is his only girlfriend at this stage in his life.” He scoffs. “I mean, points for honesty, I guess. If he doesn’t want a relationship, then it’s good he doesn’t lead girls on. But, still, I think it’s a bit hypocritical for a dude to use football to get girls and then turn around and use football as an excuse to—”

  Dimitri abruptly smashes his lips together. His eyes are trained on a target over my left shoulder. I turn and follow Dimitri’s wide-eyed gaze…and…promptly lose my shit.

  “Hey,” Tyler Caldwell says to me, smiling. His voice is deep and smooth, exactly as I’d have expected it to be. He smells faintly of cologne. Maybe whiskey, too? His eyes are savagely blue. He’s so damned beautiful, it’s like he’s got a bright halo of light wafting off him. He puts his hand out. “I’m Tyler Caldwell.”

  I slide my palm into Tyler’s. “Hi there. I’m…hi. Hello.”

  Clarissa laughs. “She’s Zooey. I’m Clarissa, and this is Dimitri.”

  “What’s up, guys?” Tyler says to Clarissa and Dimitri, his hand still holding mine. He addresses
Dimitri. “You tutor Jake, right?” He lets go of my hand, much to my chagrin.

  “Yeah,” Dimitri replies. “And Brayden and Hanalei and Luis, too. But I work the most with Jake.”

  “You got room for one more?” Tyler asks. “I might need some help this quarter with a bitch of an econ class.”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  “Cool. I’ll get your number from Hanalei.” Tyler’s eyes return to me. He slides his hand into mine again. “Sorry about that. I didn’t come over here to get myself a tutor—I came over here to introduce myself to the beautiful girl who’s making it impossible for me to concentrate on a damned thing anybody’s saying to me.”

  I open and close my mouth like a fish on a line. And that’s all I can muster.

  “So…” Tyler says, filling the awkward silence. “How come I’ve never seen you at one of our parties before? I’m positive I would have remembered you.”

  Clarissa nudges me.

  “Oh, this is your party?” I blurt.

  “Well, mine and my roommates’. I live here with five of my teammates.”

  I take a steadying breath. Clear my throat. “Cool. I live in the dorms. Hendrick Hall.” I point at Clarissa. “With her.”

  Tyler looks like he’s just bitten into a lemon. “You’re a freshman?”

  I nod. “A theater major.”

  He sighs. “Please at least tell me you’re eighteen. If you’re jail bait, I swear to God I’m going to sob into my pillow tonight.”

  My clit is tingling. My skin is buzzing. I’ve never felt so physically attracted to another human being in all my life. “No sobbing necessary. I turned eighteen in July.”

  Tyler wipes his brow comically. “Thank God.” His eyes sweep down my body and back up again. “I don’t typically go for freshman, but if ever there was a reason to break my cardinal rule, it’s you.”

  I screw up my face. “Thank you?”

  “It’s a compliment.”

  “Why don’t you typically ‘go for freshman’?”