Kelli magically appears at my side, pushing me out of the way so she can have a go at the pitiful offerings in my closet. “Too bad you wore that cute shirt last night. I’d suggest you wear it again but it’s too soon.”

No way would I wear it. I’d felt too exposed last night in it. I remember the way Shep looked at me. His eyes hot, seeming to see everything, all of me and making me shivery…

“How about this?” Kelli interrupts my thoughts, holding out a cute little black dress I wore to a holiday party last Christmas.

I wrinkle my nose. “That’s way too much. I’m not going to prom.”

Kelli huffs out a breath. “But what if he’s taking you to some fancy dinner? He might, considering he’s filthy rich and can afford just about anything he wants. Did he tell you what you’re doing tonight? Where you’re going? And who goes out on a Sunday night anyway? Don’t you have class in the morning?” Kelli asks as she shoves the dress back into my closet.

“What are you, my mother? And no, he didn’t tell me where we’re going.” He didn’t tell me much of anything beyond saying that he might become obsessed with me.

Talk about crazy. Is that some sort of line he’s trying to use so he can get in my panties? Maybe, because come on. Shep Prescott obsessed with me?

Please.

I shouldn’t trust him. I shouldn’t believe anything he says, especially when he’s in flirt mode, which is all the time. But I can’t deny the little thrill that shot through me at his admission. The admission I still have on my phone, that I stare at every once in a while, when Kelli’s not looking.

Clearly I’ve lost my mind.

“Do you have his number?” When I nod she continues, a respective spark in her eye. “Nice. Text him. Ask him what the plan is.”

“But isn’t that kind of…rude?” I’m not big on dating protocol. My first serious boyfriend I had my senior year in high school, we started seeing each other within a giant group of friends. We always just hung out. And every time we all hung out, David and I naturally gravitated toward each other, until finally we mutually decided to become boyfriend and girlfriend. We broke up before we left for different colleges, deciding that a long distance relationship wouldn’t work.

I met Joel because we had a class together. We sat next to each other and we talked and flirted. We saw each other at parties. One thing led to another and then we were going out. Again, we tended to hang with a group. Or Kelli and Dane once those two got together.

Looked like that scenario was dead and gone. Thank God Joel and I had that class together last semester. If we had to see each other three times a week…talk about awkward.

“It’s not rude, especially when you’re in the dark about what to wear. Guys don’t get this.” She waves a hand at me. “Go. Text him. Ask him how you should dress for your date.”

I grab my phone and settle on the edge of my bed, my fingers poised over the keyboard. What exactly should I say? I feel stupid. Like I shouldn’t ask any questions. Like I should already know the answers.

Here I go again, failing the test. I hate this.

“Do it,” Kelli practically growls when she sees my hesitation. “Come on. What’s the big deal?”

Blowing out an irritated breath, I type out a quick message and hit send before I can second guess myself.

Kelli’s making me ask you how I should dress for tonight.

A couple of minutes pass and there’s no reply. Of course. Maybe he’s going to cancel. Oh my God, maybe he’s never going to answer and that’ll be it. I’ll never hear from him again. It’s over before it’s even begun.

What, exactly, is over? Why do you even care? Don’t you hate this guy?

Yes. Yes. I do.

No you don’t.

“Has he answered yet?” Kelli asks from where she’s sprawled out on her tiny twin bed. Guess she gave up on looking for something for me to wear.

“No.” I toss my phone away from me so I can’t stare at it. But I still do. I look at my iPhone like it’s a bug and it’s making its creepy way toward me. “I should’ve never texted him.”

“You big baby,” Kelli mutters just as my phone dings.

I lunge for it and read his message. It’s one word that leaves me a little confused.

Scantily

Frowning, I send him another text.

Say what?

You asked how you should dress. I suggest scantily. As in, wear as little clothing as possible.

Oh. My. God.

My cheeks burn and I can feel Kelli watching me, her curiosity growing like a living, breathing thing. She sits up, perched on the edge of her mattress like she’s going to take flight.

“What did he say to you?” she demands.

I shake my head. “Nothing,” I mumble as I send him a reply.

You’re a pervert.

And you’re only just now realizing this? I figured you’d already been warned.

I want to laugh, but don’t. I should be mad. He’s sort of awful. In a sort of sexy way.

Seriously, should I wear something casual or maybe a dress…

Dresses = easy access

I bite my lip to keep from smiling. I should find that totally offensive, right?

“What’s he saying now?” Kelli asks again like the nosy bee she is. She leaps to her feet and starts pacing.

“Nothing important.” I furiously type my answer, telling myself I absolutely do not want to wear a skirt or a dress tonight. No way.

Like how you tried to slip your hand beneath my skirt last night?

I didn’t TRY anything. I DID slip my hand up your skirt.

And made me mad because I didn’t even notice. Because I was too enraptured with his lips.

Ugh.

I’ll definitely wear jeans then.

“I’m wearing jeans,” I tell Kelli, who immediately heads back to my closet and starts looking through my shirts.

“This calls for a sexy shirt to show off your boobs,” she calls from over her shoulder.

Just the idea of Shep looking at my boobs, let alone touching them, sends a warm, tingly sensation through my blood, making me shiver. My phone dings again and I glance down.

Jeans. An unfortunate choice.

Frowning, I continue texting him, dodging the shirt Kelli just tossed in my direction.

Unfortunate for you since you can’t slip your hand up my skirt.

I think you liked it when I slipped my hand up your skirt.

No, I really didn’t.

Stop denying your true feelings.

My frown deepens. He’s a total pain in the ass.

“I’m not wearing jeans,” I tell Kelli, who turns to glare at me. “Do you have a skirt I can borrow? The shorter the better?”

The slow grin that curls Kelli’s lips makes me smile in response. “Look at you, trying to drive Mr. Prescott out of his mind. I love it.”

Hmm. I don’t want him to love it. I want him to hate it. Because my policy tonight is look, but don’t touch.

This might be the greatest plan in all the world, or the worst plan ever created.

I hate dorm halls. They remind me of my not so distant past. When I was a freshman and eager to fuck any cute girl who so much as smiled at me. My first year in college, I snuck my way into more dorm rooms than I can count. I’ve had sex on more narrow twin beds than you can imagine. And bunk beds? Fuck, I think I almost broke one once.

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