“AND REMEMBER that your exam will be next Wednesday,” my chemistry professor says as she erases the whiteboard. “I’m hoping to see an improvement from the last exam for many of you.”
I shove my books into my tote bag and sling it over my shoulder, hiding the face I make behind my scarf. Words cannot express how little I care about this class. It barely makes sense, even though I go to all the extra tutoring offered by the TA, and the exams are brutal. I’d rather pull my own fingernails out than sit through another 100-question exam, knowing that the result will be the same no matter how hard I study. Dad got on me about microbiology earlier, but I’m doing even worse in chemistry.
Maybe if I fail everything this semester, it will be enough of a signal to him that I can’t do this. I’ve tried because it’s what he wants for me—even if he’s holding onto a half-formed dream I had when I was sixteen, trying to make sense of the demise of my figure skating career—but if I can’t make it through undergraduate science classes, how in the world will I be able to do this for work?
I walk out of the building, tugging my scarf around my neck tightly. Leaves crunch underneath my ankle boots as I walk back to the center of campus. There are so many hills on campus—a sick design flaw, if you ask me—that my knee is aching by the time I reach the student center. I reach down, rubbing it through my jeans, feeling the surgery-smooth scar. Like every figure skater, I had my fair share of injuries, but my last one, my knee, never quite healed as neatly as the doctors hoped. When it’s cold like this, the air seeping through my clothes, it makes my body even stiffer.
I spot Mia waiting at a bench outside The Purple Kettle. I’m not sure how, but she pulls off black matte lipstick like it’s casual. Throw in the leather jacket and thigh-high boots, and it’s no wonder nearly every guy who walks by glances at her twice. When she sees me, she hurries over and wraps me up in a hug; our cold cheeks press together. She pulls back, studying the pout on my face. Mia’s got the gift of a resting bitch face, but I’ve never been able to mask my emotions. “How was chemistry?”
“Terrible,” I whine.
We loop our arms together as we walk inside. I take a deep breath, enjoying the coffee and sugar smell.
“Worse than attacking your roommate with a sex toy?” she asks.
The girl in front of us turns around, her eyebrows raised. We try to hold back our laughter, but it comes out anyway. At least Mia’s not actually all that mad about the flying dildo. Last night, we scrolled through Tinder to look for potential hookups, and when we stumbled upon a guy named Igor, she laughed so hard she slid right off my bed.
“Yes. Horribly worse.” I rummage around in my bag for my wallet. “Hang on, I’ll buy. It’s the least I can do after the trauma you endured yesterday.”
We shuffle forward in line. “We’ll use my employee discount,” she says. “But I’m ordering a huge caramel macchiato. Get ready.”
“You’re never going to guess what my dad is doing.” I peer at the counter to see what baked goods they have. It looks like there’s coffee cake, my favorite. At least one thing is going my way today. “Also, do you want to split a coffee cake?”
“Always. And what?”
I look at the menu hanging on the wall, even though I already know I’m going to have the pumpkin chai. It’s the only thing that is going to make my boring science classwork bearable. “He’s sending someone to volunteer at one of my classes.”
“Who?”
The girl in front of us finishes paying and moves to the side to wait for her drink, so I order next, throwing in a sandwich for us to split too; it’s lunch, after all. When we made this plan earlier, we hoped to get in a little studying before work. She waves to her coworkers as we claim a table by the window and each take a seat, pulling out our notebooks and laptops. I break off a piece of coffee cake, savoring it before leaning in. I swear, you can’t say the guy’s name without at least three girls looking up, in case just speaking it aloud is some sort of spell to summon him. I get it, he’s handsome, but a lot of hockey players are. A lot of them are jerks, too, but that doesn’t stop the interest from girls who’d like to see if someone like Cooper can handle them as well as he can a hockey stick. “Cooper Callahan.”
The girl at the table next to us looks over for half a second before burying her face back in her phone.
Typical.
Mia raises an eyebrow. “Why?”
“He thinks volunteering will help him get his game back on track, I guess. I don’t know. I’m sure he doesn’t want to do it, least of all with me.”
I hear my name, so I hop up to get our drinks. I breathe in the smell of pumpkin-y goodness wafting from my chai, taking a sip before walking back to our little corner by the window. When I settle our drinks and the panini down on the table, Mia has an expression on her face that makes the back of my neck prickle. That’s her scheming face.
Usually, her schemes involve whatever person she’s into at the moment, but she doesn’t like guys like Cooper any more than I do, so I doubt she’s looking for me to make an introduction. Which means… she’s thinking of something involving me.
“Mia,” I start.
“Penny,” she says, serenely taking a sip of coffee. “This is an excellent opportunity.”
“To hear one of my dad’s arrogant players mansplain ice skating to me?”
She just smiles. “The universe is giving you a gift. It’s telling you to seize the dick, if you will.”
I choke on my next sip of chai. “No way.”
“This is perfect! He doesn’t do relationships, and you need someone guaranteed to give you a good time. His reputation in that regard is delicious.”
I blush, stuffing my mouth full of hot panini instead of responding. The melted cheese burns my tongue, but I force myself to swallow. Anything to avoid thinking too hard about Cooper Callahan’s good-time reputation. And seizing his, er, dick.
“It’s true,” the girl who looked at us before says. “Sorry to butt in, but my friend slept with him last year and he made her come three times. She says it was life changing.”
Mia gestures to me. “See?”
“You’re ridiculous. I can’t hook up with one of my dad’s players.”
“Why not? It makes it even more perfect, honestly, because you know you can’t fall for him.”
“Or would even want to, more like,” I mutter. I already fell for one self-important hockey player, and it ruined my life. There’s no way in hell I’m doing that twice. “Dad basically forbade me from getting involved with another hockey player. I can’t go trawling his roster for potential options.”
“He said not to date another hotshot hockey player,” Mia says, rolling her eyes. “Which, I agree, jocks are the worst. But this would be a hookup, which is totally different.”
“I’m not tainting The List with him.”
“What’s The List?” the girl asks.
Mia glances over and says, “Sorry, but this conversation is officially closed. There’s an open table near the door. If you want to continue to get your lattes without fear that I spit in them first, you’ll move.”
The girl practically trips over herself as she switches tables. I sigh as I look over at Mia. “Really?”
“The personal space bubble around a café table is sacred,” she says. “And you’re missing the point. You don’t have to like him; you just have to invite him to stick his head up your skirt. He’d be a great way to jumpstart The List.”
I pick at the coffee cake. It makes a certain amount of sense. Cooper Callahan is casual all the way. I doubt he’s ever used the word “girlfriend” in his life, so there’s no risk of messy feelings. And I’d rather wither away than give Dad even a whiff of what I’m planning to do with The List, so it’s not like he’d find out.
Despite all that, I raise my eyebrows. “I think you’re forgetting the fact that he’d run in the other direction the moment he realizes who’s asking.”
She just shrugs. “It’s not like you’re proposing to the guy. You heard the girl; she made her friend come three times. If anything, he’d fix your little problem, ah, arriving.”
My blush darkens. I can’t believe she’s talking about this so casually in public. “Mia!”
“What? It’s not like you can stay orgasm-less forever.”
I shudder. That’s not an option. “It can’t be him. It’s too complicated.”
Mia glances to the counter, where Will is currently fighting with the espresso machine. “Want me to get Will’s number for you? I know he’s just a baby, but he’s reasonably cute.”
“No!” I smack my hand over Mia’s wrist to prevent her from getting up. “No. I’ll find someone else on my own.”
She settles back in her chair, taking a sip of her coffee before opening her laptop. “And that’s a promise? No chickening out?”
I meant what I said yesterday; it’s time to take control of my own experiences. But that’s easier said than done, even with therapy and finally finding an anti-anxiety medication that doesn’t make me experience life like a zombie. I can’t promise it won’t be a disaster, but I know I owe it to myself to try. And while I’m not about to admit that Mia’s right, Cooper Callahan could be the perfect option—if I can woman up enough to ask him.
I stick out my pinkie as I reach across the table. “Promise.”
