The Studying Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #1)(69)

Oz: Freakishly quiet. Zeke is usually pre-gaming on a Friday night before getting completely plowed; he went home to see his cousin. Or maybe it’s his…who knows. I’m not sure where he’s been lately, but he’ll be back tomorrow for a party.

Jameson: lol. I’m not so sure about him. Yeesh.

Oz: Yeah, he’s kind of a dick.

Jameson: Kind of? ;)

Oz: Hey James?

Oz: Are you sure you can’t

Jameson: Am I sure I can’t…what? Did your phone die again?



Fuck it. I’m just going to put it out there.



Oz: Are you sure you can’t ditch your friends? LOL



Shit. It sounds really insensitive after I hit send. I should have added a goddamn wink face or something.



Jameson: I’m looking at Hayley and she’s shoving Ben & Jerry’s into her face with a shovel at an alarming pace. I’d say for the time being, I’m stuck here.

Oz: When can I see you again?

Jameson: Honestly? Not soon enough.

Jameson: I can’t believe I just sent that. Groan.



God, this freaking girl.



Oz: I really f*cking miss you.

Jameson: I miss you too. Is that weird? It’s only been a few days since I’ve seen you.

Oz: Doesn’t matter. Not seeing you is making me slightly unstable. I should probs go run a few miles to burn off some of this nervous energy.

Jameson: Oddly, I find that very sweet—I find YOU very sweet. And charming.

Oz: You are…the sexiest f*cking thing I’ve ever seen.

Jameson: Stop it! You’re making me blush and giggle, and now my roommates are all staring at me.

Oz: I f*cking love that about you.

Jameson: What? What do you love about me? (trying to be modest and blushing like crazy over here)

Oz: Everything. I f*cking love everything.

Jameson: You can’t say things like that in a text message!



I laugh out loud and tap out a quick Why not?



Jameson: Because! Don’t you know anything about girls? That’s something I want to hear in person. That’s like…panty dropper material right there.



My eyebrows shoot straight into my hairline and I stare at the words on my screen, stunned that they came from her. Panty dropper, panty dropper, panty dropper.



Jameson: My point is—that was really sweet and unexpected.

Oz: Did it make you wet hearing I love everything about you?

Jameson: I’m not sexting you right now! I’m in a crowded room!

Oz: Come on—give me something! I’m cold and alone and it’s Friday night.

Jameson: Yes. It got me wet. And “excited”.

Oz: EXCITED, excited?

Jameson: Yes (Yes! Yes!)

Oz: I’m beginning to think you’re naughtier than you look.

Jameson: Remember what I said to you the first time we met?

Oz: Something about being curious to sleep with me because of my incredible body?

Jameson: LOL, no! (but also yes) Never judge a girl by her cardigan.



I’m in my bedroom, stretched out across my bed, the latest episode of The Walking Dead playing in the background on the TV, when I hear the faint knock. Tipping my head to make sure my ears aren’t playing tricks on me—I’m not expecting anyone—I hear it again: several soft raps to the front door.

A pause.

Another knock.

Curious, I minimize the open window on my laptop, set it aside, and pad barefoot to the door, taking my sweet time. Stop in the kitchen and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. Turn the TV off in the living room, but not before flipping through a few channels.

When I finally pull open the front door, my eyes widen at the sight of James standing on my stoop, dressed head to toe like a preppy do-gooder. Like a librarian. Navy dress coat buttoned from the bottom to the top and tied at the waist. Pearls peeking out from the collar of her jacket. Navy blue, black, and green plaid skirt. The same black patent leather ballet slippers that still haunt my dreams.

“What took you so long to answer the dang door? I knocked five times!” Her obvious irritation is punctuated by the chattering of her teeth.

“I…” I stare dumbly down at her. “You’re here.”

“I am.” She nods with a shiver, wrapping her arms around herself in a hug. “Can I come in? I’m f-freezing and this jacket isn’t keeping me warm.”

It’s not her usual puffy winter coat.

“Shit!” I scramble aside so she can enter and give her a wide berth so she can step into the house. “Come in. Wow. What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but I thought Hayley needed you…”

“The guy finally texted her back so it was a false alarm.” A coy smile. “Besides, I realized she didn’t need me as much as I needed you.”

Are my ears deceiving me, or does her voice sound sexier than usual? Almost like she’s here to…

I shake the feathers out of my brain and swallow when she breezes past me into the living room. Glancing around, Jameson takes stock of the small space four of us call home. Her eyes hit the huge, sixty-inch television. The two couches, shades of diarrhea-brown. Bare beige walls. The Xbox Live and the unorganized stack of games that go with it.