{Emma}

I fell asleep in chem. Twice. Luckily my lab partner is a genius with a mullet. Ryan nudges me awake. I blink at him and yawn. “Is it my turn?”

“I already finished our lab. Why are you so tired?”

“I didn’t sleep.” I yawn again.

“You did,” he corrects me. I look around and widen my eyes at him. He shrugs in return. “What? You did.”

“You don’t have to advertise it.”

“That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

I can’t argue that and need to stop fighting it. Like it or not, it’s my duty to advertise it. I’m not about to renege on my side of the deal. “How many more classes do you have today?”

“This is my last one. Fridays are my light day. I have a paper to write, but it’s not due until break. I’ll do it over the weekend or maybe next weekend. I hate writing papers.”

“What’s it on?”

“Anything I want it to be on.” When I frown, he explains. “It’s a creative writing class. I didn’t want to take it, but I needed the credits and everything else was full.”

I’m annoyed he gets to make shit up for credit and I have to write a program on how to have the computer say Hello, World! “That’s so unfair. I’d give anything to switch places with you. My Java class is going to send me into a homicidal rage. If that Nancy bitch pushes one more of my buttons, I can’t be held responsible for what happens.”

“What if…” His gaze glimmers and I give him a skeptical look. I don’t trust anyone who looks at me like that. “We really do switch places? I can have your Java lab done in an hour. It will take me all weekend to even write a single paragraph on something made up.”

“You could always write about our relationship,” I snort. “That’s totally made up.”

He gives me nod, but he’s set his jaw and the glimmer in his gaze is gone. “That it is, Emma. Thanks for the reminder.” He jumps from his seat and storms out of class. Since we’re done with our lab anyway, I follow him.

“Hey! Ryan, wait up!” I run to catch up to him, really hating he has such long legs. I’m out of breath by the time he stops when I reach him. “This is the second time you’ve had me chase you, asshat.”

“You’re panting. That wasn’t even fifty feet this time.”

I so hate him right now. “Shut up.”

“I need to get you running.”

I straighten and look at him. “No, no, no. I have a strict policy against running of any kind.”

“And yet you’ve come running after me. Twice.” I hate that crooked grin right now.

I glare. “That doesn’t count. Besides, I have to work tomorrow. Breakfast shift at the BU Diner.”

“Then we get up early.”

“I don’t get up early, especially for anything physical.” The way my comment earns a wicked glimmer from him has me smiling. When he won’t back down, I give up. “Listen, if you do my Java lab for me, I’ll do your creative writing piece. I make shit up all the time. Deal?”

He gives me a nod. “Deal.” As an afterthought, he adds, “We’re still running.”

“No, we aren’t.”

“We’ll see.”

“I’m not running, Ryan.” I’m not. I’m just not.

He faces me. “I’m heading back to the mod.”

“I have one more class.” I both love and hate how natural it feels talking to him. No awkwardness. No worries about him finding something I say completely moronic. He’s a friend, nothing more, and it feels nice to have a guy as nothing more than a friend for a change. Well, a friend with awesome benefits.

“Then you’ll come to the mod?” The way he looks at me, like a child eagerly anticipating his first present on Christmas morning, has me both excited and confused. I shouldn’t want to skip my next class to be with him. I shouldn’t want to kiss him right now. “Promise.”

Without warning, he sneaks in a kiss. I let him, melting into him as memories of last night flood my mind, and my libido. But then I come to my senses and push him away. Before I can kick him in the balls for doing that, or even scream at him, he hurries off.

Oh, how I will make him pay for that little PDA. We never discussed the extent of the Public Displays of Affection. Now everyone and their bald little brother is staring at me. The heat sinks into me, making me warm all over. I keep my head down as I hurry to my next class.

“What the fuck, Em?” Britt appears and falls into step beside me.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“I heard from a friend, who heard from a friend, that you’re dating.”

I quicken my pace. “I date all the time.”

She stops me and swings me around to face her. “No. This is like dating dating. Like the whole kissing in public shit I just witnessed. Who is he?”

“No one you know,” I lie and turn to head to class. I’m practically running to avoid her and yet she keeps up with me. I can’t help but see the irony in that, running to avoid talking about the guy I’ve been running to keep up with. Finally, giving up, I pant as I look at her. “Why are you following me? You don’t even take statistics.”

“I can’t even spell statistics,” she adds, not even out of breath. “Spill, bitch. Who is he? Don’t look at me like that. I know your ‘Project Em’s Way’ look when I see it. It’s the nerd, isn’t it?”

“Don’t.” I put my hand up, stopping her. No one gets to insult him but me. “His name is Ryan, and when I’m done with him, you won’t even recognize him.”

“Aha! So he is one of your projects.”

“I wish you’d quit calling him that.”

“What would you call him?”

“Ryan!” I snap out of frustration. When I take a few breaths, I finally calm down enough to talk again. “Look, he and I have an agreement. He’s taking me to the DASH.”

She rounds her eyes. “No way. I wanna go.”

“Get your own Delta.”

“Bitch. I can’t believe you’re dating a nerd just to go to the DASH. Not even I would stoop to that level.”

Ouch. “I’m not dating him, not for real.” With a deep sigh, I come clean. “If I agree to pretend to be his girlfriend for a month, he takes me to the DASH. In return, I’m transforming him into the player all Deltas fantasize to be.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. Trying to make sense of this is clearly causing her physical pain. “Please don’t tell me you’re pimping out your services.” She even uses air quotes on the last word. “All to go to a party.”

When she says it like that, it makes me feel like—

“That’s goddamn brilliant!”

—a genius.

“Why didn’t I think of that? Where can I find my own Delta nerd? Or did you get the only one?”

I glance at my watch and give up. My stats class started five minutes ago. I’d rather deal with making up the work than the humiliation of walking into class late. The professor takes exceptional joy in making those late suffer for the rest of the class. Besides, we seminar on Fridays, which consists of talking about what we did in class the rest of the week. “He’s only on loan.”

She laughs. “Fine, tell you what. If you can transform him into a player, have him hit on me. If I deem him bangable, he passes.”

I already hate the idea. He’s going to get snared in the Britt web and then I’ll be nothing but an afterthought. My chest tightens and I have to take several breaths to stop myself from saying how I really feel about that. “If not?”

“You stop this. I mean it, Em. You have no idea how hard it is watching you go through this over and over and over. You’re my best friend and I love you. If your little project doesn’t pass my test, you stop going after the douches and trying to fix them. You’ll actually go after a nice guy, someone more your type.”

“Like who?”

“Definitely not a Delta, even if he is a nerd.” She spikes an eyebrow, gives me a snarky grin, and spins on her heel to leave.

“You’re on,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. I’m so ready to prove her wrong. I can date whomever I want. I don’t need her permission, and I sure as hell don’t need her bullshit analysis on my dating life.

She glances over a petite shoulder. “I am?”

“You are.” I’m convinced Ryan will knock her socks off. Literally. I don’t want to think about that.

She runs up and throws her arms around me as she squeals. Right in my ear. It’s now ringing. “I knew you’d see things my way. Okay, I’m going to stay at Mike’s tonight, and maybe tomorrow night, too. He has those nights off since he’s just the backup bartender. He works Sunday, so I’ll probably come back to the dorm. Are you good with that?”

And, just like that, we are back to Britt’s life. I’m used to it and actually prefer talking about her personal life. It’s better than talking about mine. “I’m fine with that. I have to work all weekend anyway.”

“Will you be staying at the nerd’s?”

“Ryan,” I remind her.

“Right.” She rolls her eyes and it annoys me. “Are you staying at his place?” When I nod, she adds, “Are you having sex with him?”

“No,” I answer quickly. But it’s not off the table.

“Good. Don’t cross that line. You let him into your love shack, he’ll never want to leave.”

“My love shack?” I scoff and roll my eyes at her this time. “Are you shitting me right now? You are seriously calling my vag a love shack?”

“If the cock fits…” She giggles and gives me another hug. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

“You have two more classes.”

“I’m ditching to hang with Mike. He wants to do lunch. I hope that’s code for wanting to do me.” We both laugh. “I want a full report when I get back. Actually, you know what? I don’t. Make it a surprise. If he passes the Brittany Pearson test, he’s a keeper. Be good, Em.” She waves as she hurries off.

I watch her leave, wondering how she’s going to pass any of her classes if she keeps ditching them to hang with guys. She did the same thing with Peter. Or Paul. Or whatever his name was. Debating what to do with my free time now that I’m also ditching class, I walk without purpose and end up at the diner. I could use some food, so I go inside and sit at the counter. The familiar smells welcome me like a giant, greasy hug. Ah, the delightfulness of fried food.

“Miss Emma?” Alfonse spots me from the little window between the front of the diner and the kitchen. He’s owned the diner forever and a day, is older than dirt, and moves faster than anyone I know. He came from the French Quarter in New Orleans who knows how many years ago and never lost his Creole accent. “What you be doin’ here? You should be in class. Everytin’ okay?”

“I was going to be late anyway.”

“Ain’t no reason for skippin’. You be payin’ for da class all not to go? You smarter den dat, Miss Emma.” I nod and stare at the counter as shame washes over me. He’s right. My mom would not be happy to hear I’m skipping classes, not after everything she’s sacrificed to get me here. The long hours working so many jobs to keep us afloat financially. The endless weekends as we applied for scholarship after scholarship so I could go to school. The life she could’ve had had she not had to deal with being a single mom. My dad took off to live his life. My mom never left my side.

The guilt eats me up. I have the sudden urge to call her and apologize. Since I don’t want to bother her at work, I offer my apology to Alfonse. “Sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have skipped. It won’t happen again.”

He slaps the bell twice, announcing an order is ready for Kayla. She appears from around the corner and smiles as she spots me. “Hey, Em. What are you doing here? You don’t work until tomorrow.”

I help myself to coffee and add sugar. “Oh, you know I can’t get enough of this place.”

“You be hungry? Let Alfonse make your favorite.”

I laugh at how he sometimes refers to himself in the third person. “I’m not hungry enough for a kitchen sink omelet, but thanks.”

“How about chicken? It’s good chicken.” The way he pronounces it as cheekown reminds me of that movie about a fifth element. It makes me smile. I love his accent.

“Sure. And fries?”

“You tink I’d forget da fries?” He went to work.

I wait for Kayla to deliver the food and check on her tables. The diner is pretty empty on weekdays after the breakfast shift. When classes let out for the day, it’s packed. Until then, one waitress can cover the entire place with time to spare.

She’s been my acting big sister since I came to BU as a scared freshman a year and a half ago. She’s the only reason I haven’t lost my shit completely. I need to talk to her and get her advice on the latest disaster in my life.

Once she returns and stands on the other side of the counter, I start in. “I’m in serious trouble, Kay.”

“I figured this was more than a social call. What’s going on?” She leans on the counter and pours herself a cup of coffee.

“I went home with a guy last night.”

“Is that a good thing? Or a bad thing?”

“He’s a Delta.”

She thins her lips. “Definitely a bad thing.”

“It’s not like that,” I correct quickly. “He’s not that kind of Delta.”

“There’s no other kind.” She shakes her head as something snags her memory, consuming her. Staring into her mug, she sighs long and hard. “There are some players out there who should be labeled a Delta even though they’re not part of that douchy fraternity.”

I hesitate as I watch her. Her eyes seem so sad as the memory clearly haunts her. My heart hurts for my friend, my sister from another mister. Yes, I’m in deep, deep doo-doo. But she seems in deeper doo-doo. She needs me more than I need to talk about Ryan. “What’s going on?”

Blinking, she snaps out of whatever trance she was in and covers it with a smile. “You get lucky last night?”

“Yes. Well, sort of.” I cringe as my cryptic explanation doesn’t help my situation any. “It’s complicated.” God, did I just say that?

“Of course it is.” She pushes away from the counter and makes her rounds with the coffeepot before topping off our cups. “When isn’t it complicated? Anyone who says it’s just a simple hookup is lying. It’s never that simple.”

That look in her eyes definitely tells me there’s more to the story. I push my issues aside to deal with hers. Sure, she’s got her own group of friends she refers to as her support group, but they aren’t here right now. I am. “What happened?”

Shaking her head, she dismisses the question. Typical Kayla, always so guarded. So untrusting. She doesn’t do anything without a thoroughly vetted plan. Anything deviating from that plan throws her off her game. That must be what happened. Something had her outside her comfort zone.

“Talk to me, Kayla.” I push the coffee mugs aside and take her hand.

“You didn’t come here to talk about my problems.” She slips her hand out of mine and grabs a rag to wipe down the counter. Classic avoidance.

I grab her hand and hold it still. She stares at it before lifting her gaze to mine. “Talk to me.”

“Fine.” Conceding, she tosses the rag into the bleach bucket and takes her time wringing it out only to drop it in again. Definitely a stall tactic. “But then we talk about why you’re really here. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“I sort of hooked up with my neighbor.”

My mouth falls open at the news. “The hot fireman in your building? That neighbor?” The guy should be on a fireman’s calendar. He’s come into the diner before. Every time he does, I can’t stop staring. None of the waitresses can. None of the patrons can, either. He’s that gorgeous. God was extra generous when he handed out looks to that one.

I think about another guy, one not a stop-you-in-your-tracks looker, but equally as consuming. Ryan has been in my thoughts since I left his mod this morning. It’s supposed to be nothing more than me turning him into a player. I shouldn’t want it to be anything more than that. I don’t, damn it. I just don’t.

But then he pulls something like he did, protecting me against Brad, ready to get his ass handed to him defending my honor. No one’s ever done that before. No guy—my father included—has ever put me above everything else. No guy has ever put me first.

Until Ryan.

“It was a couple weeks back,” she continues, refocusing my attention. Thank God. I don’t want to think about Ryan right now. It makes me heated and confused.

“Why didn’t you tell me until now?”

She waves off my comment, like that’s somehow going to get me to back down. “It was no big deal.”

“Clearly,” I reply dryly and look at her. She falters on a smile before rushing to check on her tables. I catch Alfonse’s eye. “How long has she been like this?”

“Ever since dat boy break her heart. She won’t let me fix. If I get involved, dat boy won’t like it. When you hurt, Alfonse hurts. You mark my words. No one hurts my family.”

I believe it. I also believe he’s perfectly capable of killing a man and hiding the body in a swamp somewhere back home. “You can be scary sometimes.”

He grins, showing off more than a few gaps where teeth used to be. “Dat be da point, cher.”

“What are you two talking about?” Kayla crashes the conversation and shoots us both accusing looks. Alfonse disappears, leaving me as the sole recipient of that look. “Well?”

I crack like I always do when she looks at me like that. “He’s worried about you.”

“For no reason,” she fires back and grabs her coffee. “Jake and I were a one-time thing. It was just a hookup.”

“I thought you said there’s no such thing.”

“No, I said it’s never as simple as just a hookup.”

That’s like the third or fourth time she’s called it a hookup. Obviously, she’s not saying it to convince me. “Do you love him?”

“God, no.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Finally, she stills long enough to regard me. No false smile. No false anything. The raw emotions shining in her eyes are real. “He walked away. After the most incredible night of my life he just…” she shakes her head and drops her shoulders. “Walks away. Like I was just another notch in his belt.”

And I’m turning Ryan into a guy who’ll walk away and leave someone like Kayla emotional and raw. Not for the first time, I question why I’d do something like that all to get into a party. Delta parties are epic, but they aren’t worth turning someone like Ryan—quite possibly the nicest guy on the planet—into a heartbreaking dick.

“For lack of sounding like a heartless bitch,” I say softly, carefully. I don’t want to offend her, but as I’ve already proven over and over, I lack that filter between my brain and mouth. “You knew he was a player before you slept with him, right? So why are you surprised when he acts like one?”

“You’re right.” When she closes her eyes and sighs, I feel like total shit. I’m supposed to be her friend. I’m not supposed to defend the douche who broke her heart. “I knew what I was getting into going in. Jake Swanson is not boyfriend material.”

“I’m sorry, Kay.”

“I’m not,” she replies with a firm nod. When I look at her, she nods again. “I’m really not. You helped me figure it out. He’s a player, through and through. That’s the last thing I need in my life, especially my last year here. Now, talk to me about why you look like someone just took your lunch money.”

“It’s about the Delta I went home with.” Before she breaks into a lecture about choices like any big sister would, I go on. “He’s not a Delta, not in the true douchy sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s a nerd.” I don’t know any other way to say it. “A virgin nerd.”

She blinks at the news. Twice. “That’s not possible. The Deltas only accept douchy dicks into the house. How’d a nerd—a virgin—get in?”

“He’s a legacy.”

“Wow.” She pushes back from the counter before jumping forward again. “Wait. Why’d you go home with a nerd?”

“He’s, uh…” I bite my lip and think of the best way to drop the bomb, one that doesn’t make me sound like just as much of a tool as the one I’m turning Ryan into. “He’s taking me to the DASH.”

“In return for?”

“I turn him into a player.” I hold my breath and brace myself for her reaction. When her eyes flash, I cringe and scramble to explain, to win her over to my side—whatever side that is. “It’s only for a month. And he doesn’t suck. He’s actually kind of cute.” The more I describe him, the more I get lost in the thought of him, of his damn crooked grin. It gets me every time. “And funny. Smart. He’s a quick study, let me tell you. His kisses…” I smile and lick my lips at the memory.

“Emma, what’re you doing? You can’t play with him like he’s a life-sized Ken doll. This is a person.” Kayla takes my hand and shakes her head, giving me one of those “I’m very disappointed in you” looks. It kills me.

I break out of my Ryan trance and clear my throat. “I’m just helping him. That’s all.”

“When the DASH comes and goes? What happens then?”

“It’s over,” I admit and can’t bring myself to smile. The ache deep in my heart robs me of my ability to do anything else, which makes no sense. We’ve only been fake dating for a day. We haven’t even had sex. After discovering he’s a virgin, I don’t know if we will. I don’t want to be the one to take his V card. That’s more than I signed up for.

This is all too much. He’s just another Project Em’s Way. That’s all. Nothing more.

So why does it feel like more?