The Freshman (College Years 1)

He smiles in return. “You’re pretty too. I like the Bulldog gear.”

“I wore it just for you.”

“I also like how you don’t hold back. You tell me how you feel.”

“I don’t like to play games,” I say with a one shoulder shrug.

“Me either.”

“Plus, friends should be honest with each other.”

“A friend who lies to you isn’t a friend at all,” he agrees.

“Right? That’s why I say what I feel.”

“Okay. My turn.” He rests his forearms on the table, leaning forward, his voice lowering. “I think you’re fucking sexy.”

My stomach flutters. “Are you attracted to older women?”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s only two years. It’s not a big deal.”

“Says the eighteen-year-old.” I grin. It’s fun to tease him. He gets this little line between his eyebrows when he’s irritated, and it’s there right now, front and center.

“Does it bother you that badly? Because if it does, maybe we can’t be friends.” His arms drop off the table and he leans back against the booth behind him, his expression devoid of emotion.

I wonder if anyone’s told him how attractive he is when he’s mad.

“It bothers me a little.” Again, I’m being honest. It’s the least I can do. “But I’ll get over it.”

“Really?”

“I’ll try.”

The server returns to our table with our drinks and a bowl of spicy edamame for us to snack on.

“Do you have many friends who are girls, Sorrento?” I ask once the server’s gone.

He slowly shakes his head. “My friends’ girlfriends, but that’s about it. I had friends who were girls when I was in high school.”

“A few months ago?” I need to quit prodding him about the age thing, but it’s like I can’t help it.

“Yeah. A few months ago, since I’m merely a baby in your eyes.” He quietly owns it, which I respect. “But I haven’t met a lot of girls since starting here.”

I nearly scoff. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Girls I’d want to be friends with,” he adds. “You’re the first.”

Jealousy spikes. Of course, he’s met girls. Pretty girls who probably throw themselves at him. Girls who chase after jocks, who want the status of being with someone on the football team. They’re all over campus. I was never one of them. Yet here I am, interested in this one.

“Maybe I want to be your only friend who’s a girl,” I admit. “I can get jealous sometimes.”

“Are you saying you don’t want me to have lots of female friends?” He raises a brow.

“It would probably bother me, yes,” I say with a nod.

“That’s not a very friend-like thing to do.”

“Sometimes…I have not-so-friendly thoughts about you.” Another honest confession. Look at me go.