Bad Influence (Bad Love 3)

“No.”

“Goddammit, Allie. Wear the fucking sweatshirt.”

The temperature has dropped since we’ve been out here, but the chill I feel has absolutely nothing to do with the weather. Jesse bends over to retrieve the sweatshirt before he takes matters into his own hands and pulls it over my head. When I realize he’s going to try to dress me like a toddler if I don’t comply, I reluctantly shove my arms through and then stand.

“Was that so fucking hard?”

I don’t respond. Instead, I walk away as fast as I can without running, leaving him to collect the boneyard of bottles behind me.

* * *

MY HEADPHONES ARE RIPPED FROM my ears and thrown onto the table in front of me. “Hey!” I yell.

“Spill it,” Halston demands.

“How did you find me here?” I mutter, bitter that she found me. After I got back to Lo’s house, the party was still going strong, so I grabbed my forgotten phone off the patio table and called Halston to come rescue me. I got a free pass from her interrogation last night in my sad, drunken state. But I knew all bets would be off today. So, here I am, passing the time in the library on a freaking Saturday, working on an assignment that isn’t due

for two weeks, before my shift at Blackbear starts.

“You don’t have friends. Where else would you go?”

I open my mouth to say Dylan’s, but she stops me.

“And Dylan doesn’t count.”

“I have other friends,” I grumble.

Halston shoots me a look before pulling out a chair and makes herself comfortable, her folded hands resting on top of the table, a waxed to perfection eyebrow arched in expectation.

I sigh, shutting the screen of my laptop. “I almost hooked up with the enemy last night.”

“If you’re referring to the fucking god you’re living with, that’s a slight exaggeration, don’t you think?”

“Whatever, Judas.”

Her eyes roll toward the ceiling. “I see we’re rolling with the dramatic theme. What happened?”

I debate on how much to divulge. Halston won’t judge, but more than that, I’m genuinely baffled by his behavior, and I could use some advice from someone with more experience in this department. Shoving my pride aside, I decide to tell her everything. Every single detail from the very first night we hooked up in her dorm to last night.

“It just doesn’t make sense. He pursues the shit out of me, and then when we’re right there—” I smack the table for emphasis, earning a glare from a nearby student with thick, black glasses with round frames. “He pulls back. Twice, now. Am I some kind of a game to him? Oh God, what if I’m a bet?”

“What?” Halston laughs at my outlandish rambling.

“You know, like those teen romance movies circa 2002. The popular guy goes for the nerd slash loner girl and she fucking falls for it, only to learn she was just a bet all along.”

“First of all, you’re not a nerd. You’re a hot chick with questionable fashion sense. Big difference.”

“That’s really comforting. Thank you for your sage words of wisdom. Really, I feel so much better now.”

“Jesus, Allie.” Halston’s eyes grow wide. “You really like him!” she accuses, her voice increasing in volume. The same kid from before shushes us, but we ignore him.

“That’s ridiculous.” I scoff, shaking my head in denial, and this time, it’s my voice that’s rising in pitch.

“Can you two airheads go ponder the meaning of life somewhere else? Some of us actually have work to do.”

“Pack it in, Potter!” Halston growls, glaring at him. “Or I’ll tell the librarian what you’re really doing over there.” She points a manicured finger, gesturing at his screen, as a devious grin spreads across her face.

His cheeks turn tomato red and he snaps his mouth shut.