Seven years ago 

Pittsburgh

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“WAIT A MINUTE.” I LOOKED over my shoulder at Kyle as we lifted weights the next morning. Coach gave you what as a punishment for the bonfire?”

“He said I have to attend three showings of The Vagina Monologues play—one for every woman I ‘disrespected’ at the bonfire, and I owe him twenty written apologies to all our neighbors.” He dropped his barbells to the floor. “He wants five miles from me every Sunday morning and three extra miles after every practice until the end of the season. He also said he doesn’t want to hear anything else about my partying after this weekend, which is quite perfect because that means I get to bring in my last college birthday exactly how I’ve always dreamed it.”

“Please don’t tell me anything about your plans,” I said. “One of us has to be able to truly play dumb when the cops come.”

“The cops won’t have any reason to come this time.” He laughed. “I’m having it on the North Shore Saturday night, so can I trust that you’ll be my designated driver and bring me and whoever’s willing back to our place?”

“Of course. I’ll come after I get done studying.”

“Figures.” He stepped closer to the mirror. “I really don’t understand why you think you need to make all A’s. We’re not in high school anymore.”

“Yet you still insist on acting like it.”

“Funny.” He laughed. “I’m just saying that they don’t print our grades on transcripts and since you’re definitely going to the league after graduation, it really doesn’t matter what grades you make.”

“Nothing is guaranteed,” I said, remembering the last words my dad said to me before he passed away.

“Nothing is guaranteed except for you being drafted into the NFL within the top five, and me being drafted within the top ten.”

I shook my head and knew Kyle more than understood what my father told me, but I couldn't argue with him on his prediction. Even if the two of us gave halfway decent performances this year, our performances from the past three seasons were warranting interest from the NFL teams and our names were mentioned in ESPN's "Best College Player" rankings every week.

“Do you know a girl here named Charlotte?” I asked, changing the subject. 

“I know plenty of girls here named Charlotte. You’re going to have to be way more specific than that.”

“She’s a senior, has hazel eyes, and a smart-ass mouth.”

“Does she have red hair or black hair?”

“Neither. It’s dark brown.”

“Wait.” He turned around to face me. “Is the Charlotte you’re talking about sexy as hell?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh. Yeah.” He groaned. “I know that Charlotte. What about her?”

“I—” I held back. I didn’t want to say too much yet, and I didn’t want to admit that I was struggling to keep her off my mind. “I have peer tutoring sessions with her this year for my literature classes.”

“Well, just so you know, that’s all you’ll be getting with her.” He shook his head. “My friend Mike from Carnegie Mellon told me about her a while ago. She’s on my personal blacklist, so you might as well blacklist her, too.”

“You’ve dated her before?”

“Hell, no.” He looked offended. “Look. My friend Mike walked her home from a frat party super late one night last year, and then she invited him up to her room. So, quite naturally, he thought that meant they were about to fuck, right?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Yes, necessarily.” He crossed his arms. “Can you please find a way to be my so-called best friend named Grayson or just pretend to be him today?”

I laughed. “I can try.”

“Anyway, so she invites him up to her room, but instead of taking her clothes off, she makes some coffee. Then she takes him down to her dorm’s lounge where she proceeds to tell him about her favorite books. Her favorite books. Until five in the morning.”

“That’s why she’s blacklisted?

“I’m not even done yet,” he continued. “When she finally walks him out to the exit around seven in the morning—with not even a hint of an ‘I’ll show my appreciation to you for walking me home later’ line, he asks for her phone number. You know, to kind of maybe seal the deal for next time, but she says no. Then she says he’s more than welcome to join her at some type of art gallery on Sunday.”

“Did your friend ever meet her at the art gallery?”

“Are you shitting me?” He rolled his eyes. “No. He never talked to her again and he told me about her so I wouldn’t waste my time. Now, I’m telling you, so you’ll never waste yours.”

“Thank you for your story-time.”

“You’re more than welcome.” He took a long swig of water. “I also heard she has a boyfriend who she’s super loyal to at another college, so sexy as hell or not, she’s not worth anyone’s time here.”

Maybe she does have a boyfriend. That would explain her attitude toward me.

“Anyway,” Kyle said, “Speaking of girls who are worth my time, let me finally tell you about the three girls from the bonfire.”

I halfway listened as he gave me a play by play of his sex-filled weekend, as he gave me excessive details I could’ve done without. I was far more interested in unraveling the mystery of Charlotte and how the hell she’d flown under my radar for so long.

All I knew for sure was that I’d never been more attracted to someone after only a few encounters in my life, and her being my tutor for this semester was going to be a serious problem.