She waves away my observation before turning the conversation back to the topic at hand. “If it wasn’t the frat guy, then who did you spend all night texting with?”
Now that I’ve plowed my way through half the stack and my belly is full, I set the plate on the nightstand and resettle against the pillows.
“His name is Chris,” I hedge, unsure how much to divulge. The entire thing is crazy.
“Chris?” Her brows pinch as she purses her lips and racks her brain. “From the swim team?”
“No, I don’t think he’s a swimmer.”
She shifts. “Did you meet him last night at the party or somewhere else?”
My teeth sink into my lower lip before worrying it.
When I remain silent, she makes an impatient hand gesture. “Come on, tell me. I’m dying here.”
“I haven’t exactly met him…yet.”
“I don’t understand.” Before I can respond, she groans. “Please tell me this isn’t someone you met on a dating app. I thought you deactivated your profile after the last guy sent you a bunch of dick pics.” She scrunches her face. “They weren’t even that impressive.”
Yeah…we’re not going to talk about that dumpster fire of a situation.
“No dating app was involved.”
“Then explain how you’re talking to someone who you haven’t actually met. Was it a random number?” she asks with a laugh.
One glance at my face has the mirth fading from her lips as her eyes widen until it looks like they might fall out of her head. “OMG, you’re talking with a random number?”
I huff out a breath and shrug. “Yeah. One thing led to another, and we ended up texting for two and a half hours.”
When she remains silent, a concerned expression settling over her pretty features, I clear my throat and say hastily, “I doubt anything more will happen.”
“You don’t think so?”
I shake my head, no longer wanting to discuss the situation. I’d fallen asleep last night with a smile on my face. Out of everyone I spoke with at the party, this is the conversation I enjoyed most. And it had all taken place through text. We’d clicked instantly.
“Okay.” She rises from my bed before grabbing my plate from the nightstand and heading into the hallway. “Let me know when you want to do a little shopping, the cupboards are bare,” she calls on her way out.
I snuggle into the covers before grabbing my phone and scrolling through our messages. There are so many. It’s funny, I have no idea what this guy even looks like, but we discussed a lot of different things and in a strange way, I feel like I got to know him. What I’ve discovered only makes me curious to learn more. The realization that this was just a one-time deal has a kernel of sadness blooming to life inside me. Before it can take root, I shake it off.
It was a wrong number, nothing more. Honestly, there’s no reason for us to text ever again.
Just as I toss off the covers, ready to head to the bathroom, my phone dings with a message.
Hey. Sleep well?
A smile springs to my lips as my fingers fly over the keyboard.
7
BROOKE
Even though there’s an entire wing dedicated to the engineering sciences, I glance around the open space, wondering if Chris might be here hunkered down as well. He mentioned spending a lot of time studying at the library. My gaze slides over a couple of guys.
There’s a dark-haired one over there. Could that be him?
Or maybe the lanky blond studying by the stacks?
Or what about the muscular Prince Harry lookalike across from us?
My brows draw together as I contemplate the situation. The problem is that I could literally run into him on campus and not realize it. We’ve spent the last couple of nights texting for hours, but I still don’t have any idea what he looks like.
Instead of keeping our banter light and easy, we’ve delved deep and really gotten to know each other. It’s to the point that I look forward to sliding between the sheets at the end of the day. I can’t deny that the more I discover, the more I like.
When it comes down to it, I have no idea who this guy is. He could literally be anyone. Maybe that’s the attraction and why it’s so easy to open up and be real with him. In a short amount of time, we’ve managed to strip away all the pretenses. Or maybe there weren’t any to begin with. Neither of us is worried about images or pretending to be something we’re not.
It’s refreshing.
And kind of addicting.
All right…more than kind of.
When I should be focused on my homework, I’m daydreaming about Chris.
It’s only when Sasha waves a hand in front of my face that I’m force back to the present. “What’s going on with you?”
“Hmmm?” I blink, attempting to refocus my attention. “What do you mean?”