Misadventures of a College Girl (Misadventures #9)(12)

Chapter Six





I stare at Tyler blankly, not sure what he means. He needs my final answer about what? If I’m willing to have sex with him, after all? Because, if so, my answer would most definitely be…yes.

“Do you admit our cartoon elephant’s T-shirt is funny or not?” Tyler demands. “Assuming, of course, he’s wearing pants.”

Oh. That. “Um…” I begin but trail off. My mind is racing. I think I might have royally screwed up tonight. Tyler’s clearly not the douchebag I thought he was based on initial impressions. Not at all. He’s actually someone I’d love to hang out with and get to know. Which means the fact that I threw myself at him…and then got turned down…is absolutely mortifying. I clear my throat. “I can’t give you my final answer yet,” I say. I lean back in my chair. “There are still too many variables.”

“Variables? Well, this I’ve got to hear.” Tyler shifts his backside against the edge of his desk like he’s settling in for the night and flashes me a smile that says Enlighten me.

“Well, for one thing,” I say. “I’d want to know if our cartoon elephant chose his elephant T-shirt out of his cartoon closet the same way a human hipster would choose a T-shirt that says Human.”

Tyler chuckles. “Or…”

“Or, in the alternative, if the word elephant on the elephant’s T-shirt is completely outside the realm of his cartoon reality.”

“Outside the realm of his cartoon reality?” Tyler chuckles, and his stunningly blue eyes twinkle at me.

I clear my throat again. Oh, man, my insides suddenly feel like an ice cream cone left out on a sunny day. “Yeah, you know, like, maybe the word elephant on his T-shirt is actually a label.”

“A label?”

“Placed on his shirt by the illustrator to make sure we can tell he’s an elephant.”

Tyler shakes his head like I’ve given him whiplash. “The elephant is a big gray animal with a trunk and tiny tail. No label necessary.”

“That’s your assumption. But there are lots of reasons why a label might be necessary.”

“Name two,” Tyler says.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my pounding heart. “Well, what if the illustrator is a kindergartner, and the elephant looks like nothing but a big gray blob?”

Tyler chuckles.

“Or what if the illustrator is some old guy who’s recently had a stroke and, sadly, the elephant looks more like a gigantic boulder with eyes?”

Tyler bites his lower lip. “Or maybe a rhino.”

“Exactly. See? Now you get it. Surely, in either of those scenarios, a label on the elephant would be necessary—and not the least bit funny.”

Tyler bites his lip again and then shoots me a smoldering look that hardens my nipples. “The elephant is a hipster, Zooey,” he says evenly, his eyes locked with mine. “He got his elephant T-shirt at a vintage shop, and he drinks old fashioneds at elephant bars while listening to cartoon bands you’ve never heard of.”

“Ah, so our cartoon elephant must not listen to Josie and the Pussycats, then. They’d be way too mainstream for his hipster musical taste.” I snort at my own joke, but the look on Tyler’s face tells me he has no idea what I’m talking about. “Aw, come on, man!” I bellow. “First Babar and now Josie and the Pussycats?”

Tyler shrugs.

“Damn. And that was a clever joke, too. Trust me, if you’d grown up watching Cartoon Network on Saturdays like me, rather than wasting your time and energy playing football all the time, you’d understand that joke absolutely slayed.”

“Oh, I’m sure it did. There’s no doubt in my mind.” His eyes flicker with heat. “Okay, Zooey. Are there any more variables you need to consider or are you finally ready to concede the point?”

“What’s the point again?”

He rolls his eyes. “That the elephant’s T-shirt, and therefore mine, can be both a statement of fact and funny.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. Exhale. And finally, begrudgingly, motion to his T-shirt and say, “Fine. I concede. It’s a damned funny shirt.”

Tyler fist-pumps the air, throws his head back, and lets out a laugh that’s so adorable, it makes my crotch flutter. And just like that, another pang of regret shoots through me. I can’t believe I threw myself at this gorgeous guy…and he turned me down. Suddenly, I want to bolt out of this bedroom and never look back.

I rise out of my chair and put my water bottle down. “So, hey, Mr. God’s Gift to Womankind, it’s been great meeting you, but I think I’m going to head downstairs, find my roommate, and go back to the dorms now.”

Tyler’s face falls. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m just tired.” And embarrassed. “Have a great rest of your season and good luck in the draft in May.”

I begin crossing the room, intending to flee, but Tyler beats me to the door and stands in front of it. “Hang on. Something’s obviously wrong.”

“Nope. Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just realized you’re totally right. It was a huge mistake for me to come up here with you.” And now I’m feeling embarrassed and rejected and mortified about it. “Honestly, I’d like to leave and forget tonight ever happened.”