“And what?” That can’t be the end of the instructions.
“Kiss him,” Poppy says.
“Kiss him? That’s all.”
She shares a wicked look with Kai. “Kiss him,” she repeats. “The rest will take care of itself.”
I tell myself I’m not nervous, but my hands are slippery on the steering wheel of Mom’s Roadster as I pull into Sterling’s dorm parking lot. I’m running late, which isn’t a surprise after the number of outfits I tried on. We’re supposed to be getting together to celebrate the end of finals. Despite my friends’ assurances that a kiss will send the message I want to send, I’m hoping he remembers the promise I made. I don’t want to make an idiot out of myself.
I want everything to be perfect. I teased him during our pre-Thanksgiving study session, but the truth is, I don’t have a lot of stuff from the Victoria’s Secret front window. I spent hours combing my closet for the perfect outfit. Kai said to be comfortable, but I doubted showing up in yoga pants was going to send the right message. I needed to look hot, but I understood I’d gone overboard on my birthday. I couldn’t show up in a mini-dress to hang in his dorm room without feeling out of place. In the end, nothing felt right, so I ended up in a gray t-shirt with a deep cut v-neck, jeans, and a black gasoline jacket with boots to match. I thought I looked like a badass. Now, I just need to channel that energy into some self-confidence.
I make a kissy face in the rearview mirror, then check my teeth for any of my blush-red lipstick. All is well.
Sterling had one of the latest finals on campus, and the parking lot is mostly empty. He’s sticking around through the week to attend my family’s Christmas party before leaving to spend the holidays with Francie in New York. That’s why this needs to happen tonight. I want to be able to spend as much time with him as I can before enduring Christmas without him.
His dorm is a ghost town, so I’m surprised when the elevator slides open and he’s inside. His eyes widen when he sees me. “Damn, Lucky. You. Look. Perfect. I was just stepping outside to wait for you.”
Is it possible for a heart to actually explode over a guy? Because mine feels like it’s on the verge of bursting.
Wait for me? I can’t help feeling like he’s as eager to see me as I am to see him. A casual sexiness rolls off him. Sterling might not spend thousands on his wardrobe like most guys I know, but that works in his favor. His faded t-shirt with its well-worn fabric only accentuates his muscular torso and wide, strong shoulders. The leather coat he’s wearing was vintage twenty years ago, but that only makes it better. He’s clean-shaven for once, drawing attention to his electric-blue eyes. There’s even a little piece of paper where he must have nicked himself with the razor.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I say, plucking off the paper.
He grins sheepishly, biting the edge of his lip, and rubs the spot.
I’m in love with him. I feel it every time he looks at me. It fills me so full that I have the strangest sensation of floating whenever I’m near him. I only want more of him.
“How’d the Econ final go?” I ask.
“Pretty good, I think. I wasn’t sure on a couple answers, but that’s not bad when there are 30 questions.”
“Ready to celebrate? And by celebrate, I mean avoid books for a night?” He doesn’t know how important his answer is to me, how much I need him to myself tonight.
“For ever and ever,” he says, sighing. “Cyrus is gone for break. In fact, it looks like we pretty much have the entire dorm to ourselves. I was thinking we’d start with a movie. But I can’t remember Cy’s Netflix password, so we should to go to the library and grab one.”
“It’s open?”
“I think there are a few more finals going. They won’t close it until every student’s brain is fried from studying,” he says with a grin. “Don’t worry. I checked the hours.”
So he’s been planning tonight, too. The library to grab a DVD? It’s not the first time I’ve been reminded of how different our lives are. I’m about to tell him we can use my account when I realize it might hurt his pride. I smile brightly, even though I’m ready to get back to his room and be alone with him. No movie required. “Lead the way.”
Eaton Library is a couple blocks down from Sterling’s dorm. The librarian at the desk glares at us when we enter. Apparently, she’s as ready for finals to be over as the students.
“This way.” Sterling seems at ease at the library, weaving in and out of the stacks before leading me up a staircase. It’s clear he spends a lot of time here.
On an upper floor, we find ourselves looking at Valmont’s meager collection of DVDs. Nearly all of them are marked Criterion Collection or AFI Top 100.
“So this is what film students do?” I guess.
“I doubt they study classics like Waterworld.” He picks one up. “What do you want to watch?”
“Whatever.” Honestly, I don’t plan on watching much of the movie.
“Francie likes old movies,” he continues. “Philadelphia Story. Arsenic and Old Lace. Cary Grant is great.”
Is he really not thinking about… ? I expected us to pick up where we’d left off in the suite at the Eaton.
“Cary Grant it is then.” I grab every title I can, making a small stack. If we got them all, we’ll have no reason to leave his dorm again for a while.
“I’ve heard of this one,” says Sterling, flipping one of the cases over to read the back. “Charade. Cary Grant. Audrey Hepburn.”
“Perfect.” It could star a banana and a bit of shrubbery for all I care.
We take the DVDs to
