Operation Prom Date (Tactics in Flirting, #1)(2)

Wait. Do people say dapper anymore? Well, it was my imaginary dream prom. He could look dapper, and the more I thought about it, the stronger the longing grew.

That’s it. No more being passive and waiting for it to magically happen. I’m going to make it happen. And I had just about two months to do it, which meant I needed to get started ASAP.

Since I was already swimming in maximum embarrassment level, I decided to dive right in and see how big of a challenge I was in for.

“Spill now,” I said. “Or leave my perch.”

Cooper arched an eyebrow. Just as I was about to give him a shove and reclaim my curb, he gave a resigned sigh and said, “It might not be that he’s completely uninterested. You’re a pretty girl and all. You just…come across as a chick who wants a serious thing.”

I frowned. “That’s probably because I do.”

“I know. And it shows.”

My lungs tightened, refusing to take in or expel oxygen. “So glad we established that. I think I’ll go now. See if I can’t find some poison ivy to roll around in to top off this delightful afternoon.”

As I started to stand, Cooper caught my arm. “I’m not trying to insult you.”

“Then what are you trying to do?”

He shrugged. “Help.”

“So far, you’re doing a bang-up job.”

He grinned, because apparently he didn’t understand English. “Hey, you’re the one who insisted on an explanation.” I’d forgotten how frustrating he could be with his blasé attitude—it drove me crazy when I was trying to ensure we got an A on our history project. No wonder we’d never become closer friends. “How many girls have you seen Pecker with through the years?”

“His name is Mick.”

“What kind of name is that, anyway?” Cooper took a large swig of my soda. “It’s like his parents got halfway through naming him and just stopped in the middle.”

“His parents met at a Rolling Stones concert—he’s named after one of the greatest rock stars of all times, which I think is pretty cool.”

“‘Cool’ isn’t the word I’d use. And you know way too much about him. Now, answer the question.”

I had to think past the ridiculous name discussion to remember his question. “He averages three girls a semester.” When Cooper’s forehead crinkled, I clarified. “Two the first half of junior year, three the second, and four last semester.”

“So you’re a math girl.”

“I…dabble.” If by dabble, you mean I can differentiate and integrate in my sleep.

I was a bit of a math nerd, but I tried to keep it on the down low. I was actually pretty proud Cooper didn’t know that about me already. Although, like Oliver Queen on Arrow, people found out my secret at an alarming rate. Pretty soon all of Starling City—er, Auburn—would know.

Maybe I’ve been hitting Netflix a little too hard as of late. As if I didn’t already struggle enough keeping in touch with reality.

“Okay, so what about those girls’ averages?” Cooper asked, enough of a grin on his face that his already conspicuous dimples stood out even more.

“You mean average intelligence?”

Cooper laughed, and despite my earlier annoyance, I found I was now semi-glad he’d stopped to harass me. “I meant more what do they have in common,” he said. “How serious do they come across?”

“Not very, since they also have several guys they hook up with during the course of the school year.” I already had bad blood with Paris Townsend, one of Mick’s on-and-off again girls, which probably made me more judgmental than I should be. “They just go from boy to boy like it’s nothing.”

“Exactly.”

I could feel my eyebrows scrunching together but couldn’t help it. “But if I get another boyfriend, I won’t have time to actually land Mick. Especially at the rate I go.”

“He just needs to see you as a non-serious or high-maintenance type. Once you catch his interest, you play it cool, and if you do it right, he’ll be the one chasing you.”

“Okay. Yeah. I can do that.” I gave one sharp nod, because it seemed like the move to make when you got serious about something, and I was now super-duper serious about Operation Land Mick As My Prom Date.

That’s kind of long. Maybe I should just cut it down to Operation Prom Date.

“Good luck.” With that, Cooper tossed my now-empty Dr Pepper can in the recycling bin—so at least he recycled, and I supposed that helped negate the fact that he’d finished off my soda—and started away from me.

Panic immediately set in.

I didn’t know how to catch Mick’s interest or play it cool. Overthinking was my middle name. Not to mention I only had a couple of months—less, really, because people usually had dates at least a month in advance—and with the margin for error I required, that wasn’t nearly enough time.

“Wait,” I said, and Cooper slowly turned around. I jumped to my feet and moved over to him, wanting to make sure no one else heard this conversation. Embarrassing as it was, I was in over my head. My past failures to have more than five-minute conversations with Mick proved that. Cooper’s male perspective made me realize I needed to go about things in a different way, and I needed more of that insight. “I don’t know how to snag his interest or play it cool. I…need help.”