The Junior (College Years 3)

“Oh, it’s definitely your mom.” I hand the phone back over to him, and he seems awfully pleased with my agreement.

“Told you.” His gaze lingers on the newest dress I’m wearing. “I don’t like that dress.”

“Why not?” I glance down at myself.

“It fits you funny.”

I immediately shed the dress. I’m not even bothering to hide the goods. He wants to take a long look at me like this? He better do it while he can. This is his last chance.

He slouches against the wall, his spread legs eating up a lot of space as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, watching me. “You know, I’ve always wanted to hook up with a girl in a dressing room.”

“When you say ‘hook up,’ are you meaning…” I let my words drift.

“Exactly what you’re thinking, yeah. Have sex. Do the nasty. Fuck around. Whatever you want to call it.” His gaze is heavy as he studies me. “Look at you. You’re halfway ready for a hookup. Want to come on over here and give it a shot?”

He slaps his thigh, indicating exactly where he wants me.

“Caleb.” I rest my hands on my hips, not giving a shit that I’m about to lecture him while half-naked. “Are you for real right now?”

“Sure.” He grins. “Why not?”

“I think you need lessons in seduction.” Pretty sure I saw a movie called that once. Maybe on Lifetime?

“I need no lessons. Everything I do always seems to work.” He frowns. “Except with you.”

“Yeah. Because the way you go about this sort of thing is downright awful. At least it is to me.” I don’t hold back. If these are his so-called moves, then he needs serious help because they’re pathetic. And super sleazy. “No girl wants to be propositioned like what you just did to me.”

“I beg to differ.” He sits up straighter, dropping his arms to his sides. “I’ve been hooking up with girls using these very same lines for years. They work like a charm.”

“And how far has that really got you though, huh?” I ask him.

“Far enough,” he says, looking smug.

“Aren’t you tired of the endless hookups?”

“I should ask you the same question,” he throws back at me.

“I haven’t been with a guy in a while,” I admit softly.

“And I haven’t been with a woman in a while,” he admits, just as softly.

We’re quiet, watching each other, me in my undies, his gaze zeroed in on my face, not drifting down once. It must be taking tremendous control for him to keep his eyes off my exposed body.

His phone dings, making us both jolt, and he checks it, smiling as he reads. “My mom said I should bring you around to meet her sometime soon. She thinks you sound like, and I quote, ‘a keeper.’”

“Aww, your mom sounds nice.” I don’t think anyone’s described me as a keeper before. No one really noticed me in high school. And in college, I became the good-time girl. The one who never stuck around with one guy for too long for fear of missing out on something—or someone—better.

That sort of attitude has gotten me nowhere. Sometimes, I’m lonely, and here’s the weird thing: Caleb is filling the void.

Yes, the biggest horn dog on campus is practically like a boyfriend to me, yet we keep it strictly platonic.

We make no sense.

“My mom is pretty damn sweet,” Caleb agrees, finally letting his gaze scan downward, lingering on my chest. “But I’m not thinking about my mom right now, thank fuck. You need to cover up, G. It’s suddenly getting pretty hot in here.”

“Hmm. You can look, but you can’t touch.” I turn away from him, unclipping a denim skirt from its hanger when I feel fingers drift across my left ass cheek. I whirl on him just as he snatches his hand away, a guilty look on his face. “You touched.”

“Sorry ‘bout it.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all.