guys.”
“Are you saying she’s—”
“No. I don’t know. Nell’s life doesn’t revolve around social things like parties or dating. She’s all about school. She’s focused and driven, and she puts her everything into her classes. I think it’s because she was the first person in her family to go to college. She feels like she has to prove herself, so she’s never really made any time for anything else.”
Well, damn. I certainly know what that’s like . . . feeling like you have to prove that you’re worth people’s attention.
“Then why is she all of a sudden coming to parties?”
She bites her lip, worrying it before she answers. “That would be my doing. I told her that she wasn’t getting the full experience out of college by just focusing on classes. Now I think she’s trying to broaden her horizons a bit.”
I smile, and Dylan immediately pokes a finger into my sternum. “Whatever you’re thinking, not that broad.”
“Chill out. I was just thinking that explains why it seemed like she’d never tasted alcohol before. She’s trying new things. That’s cool.”
“And that’s exactly why she needs to take baby steps. And you like to jump in the deep end.”
“Sometimes that’s the best way to learn how to swim.”
“Mateo Torres. I will kill you if you hurt her.”
I tuck an arm around her and pull her close in a half hug.
“Jeez, I thought you were a pacifist.” When she bristles, I continue: “Relax. There will be no harm or deaths of any kind.”
Silas shows up then with new drinks for both him and Dylan and says, “Dude. Hands off.”
I back away, my hands raised, still grinning.
“You snooze, you lose, man. I’m going to steal her from you one of these days.”
Dylan shoots me a warning glance, but I’m pretty positive that it’s not a reaction to that comment. I take a few steps back and she says, “I mean it, Torres.”
“Gosh, Captain Planet. Careful or Moore here might find out about the sweet nothings you’ve been whispering in my ear.”
I leave before Dylan can frown at me again or before Silas can glare.
Couples, man.
Then I forget about them and set off in search of Nell.
Chapter 7
Nell’s To-Do List
• Normal College Thing #6: Drink alcohol (and not at church).
• Survive Halloween (preferably without popping a button on this shirt).
I t takes me a long while to find any semblance of calm at this raging party. For a moment I’d thought of leaving, but then I fished my phone out of my bag to discover it was only half an hour since I’d arrived. I decided it probably wouldn’t be honoring the spirit of my bucket list if I were to let myself leave after thirty-one minutes.
Finally, I settle myself down beside a mesquite tree on the side of the house and pull my bag into my lap. The only reason Dylan let me get away with bringing it was that I insisted it added to my schoolgirl persona. If she knew I’d also brought along a few spirals and the latest issue of Scientific American, she likely wouldn’t have been so accepting.
But it’s not the magazine I reach for when I open my bag but the familiar spiral, the contents of which have been plaguing my thoughts nonstop for days.
I’m a list kind of girl. I make a lot of them. I make them in the morning, in spare moments throughout the day, during classes when the professors move slower than my thoughts. I make them in notebooks, on my phone, on sticky notes, and just in my head. But now I flip forward to that list and start scanning through it. With a smile, I retrieve a pen and draw a line through
6. Drink Alcohol (and not at church).
The rush of satisfaction that tears through me at the simple action is astonishing. It’s not as if I’d accomplished any great feat or had a brilliant intellectual breakthrough. I’d had a rather yummy cup of Torres’s signature concoction, and most of the people here had probably been doing something similar for years now.
The thought of
“Are you saying she’s—”
“No. I don’t know. Nell’s life doesn’t revolve around social things like parties or dating. She’s all about school. She’s focused and driven, and she puts her everything into her classes. I think it’s because she was the first person in her family to go to college. She feels like she has to prove herself, so she’s never really made any time for anything else.”
Well, damn. I certainly know what that’s like . . . feeling like you have to prove that you’re worth people’s attention.
“Then why is she all of a sudden coming to parties?”
She bites her lip, worrying it before she answers. “That would be my doing. I told her that she wasn’t getting the full experience out of college by just focusing on classes. Now I think she’s trying to broaden her horizons a bit.”
I smile, and Dylan immediately pokes a finger into my sternum. “Whatever you’re thinking, not that broad.”
“Chill out. I was just thinking that explains why it seemed like she’d never tasted alcohol before. She’s trying new things. That’s cool.”
“And that’s exactly why she needs to take baby steps. And you like to jump in the deep end.”
“Sometimes that’s the best way to learn how to swim.”
“Mateo Torres. I will kill you if you hurt her.”
I tuck an arm around her and pull her close in a half hug.
“Jeez, I thought you were a pacifist.” When she bristles, I continue: “Relax. There will be no harm or deaths of any kind.”
Silas shows up then with new drinks for both him and Dylan and says, “Dude. Hands off.”
I back away, my hands raised, still grinning.
“You snooze, you lose, man. I’m going to steal her from you one of these days.”
Dylan shoots me a warning glance, but I’m pretty positive that it’s not a reaction to that comment. I take a few steps back and she says, “I mean it, Torres.”
“Gosh, Captain Planet. Careful or Moore here might find out about the sweet nothings you’ve been whispering in my ear.”
I leave before Dylan can frown at me again or before Silas can glare.
Couples, man.
Then I forget about them and set off in search of Nell.
Chapter 7
Nell’s To-Do List
• Normal College Thing #6: Drink alcohol (and not at church).
• Survive Halloween (preferably without popping a button on this shirt).
I t takes me a long while to find any semblance of calm at this raging party. For a moment I’d thought of leaving, but then I fished my phone out of my bag to discover it was only half an hour since I’d arrived. I decided it probably wouldn’t be honoring the spirit of my bucket list if I were to let myself leave after thirty-one minutes.
Finally, I settle myself down beside a mesquite tree on the side of the house and pull my bag into my lap. The only reason Dylan let me get away with bringing it was that I insisted it added to my schoolgirl persona. If she knew I’d also brought along a few spirals and the latest issue of Scientific American, she likely wouldn’t have been so accepting.
But it’s not the magazine I reach for when I open my bag but the familiar spiral, the contents of which have been plaguing my thoughts nonstop for days.
I’m a list kind of girl. I make a lot of them. I make them in the morning, in spare moments throughout the day, during classes when the professors move slower than my thoughts. I make them in notebooks, on my phone, on sticky notes, and just in my head. But now I flip forward to that list and start scanning through it. With a smile, I retrieve a pen and draw a line through
6. Drink Alcohol (and not at church).
The rush of satisfaction that tears through me at the simple action is astonishing. It’s not as if I’d accomplished any great feat or had a brilliant intellectual breakthrough. I’d had a rather yummy cup of Torres’s signature concoction, and most of the people here had probably been doing something similar for years now.
The thought of
Similar Books
