“You don't dorm?”

I let out a sigh. No, I don't dorm. What is the big deal? Is it a hate crime to not dorm on campus? Is it killing anyone? “No,” I firmly reply. “I don't.”

He frowns. “That's too bad; campus life is crazy post-hours.”

Yes, I've heard. “I don't really party, anyway.” And, with that, I turn back to my laptop.

He leans around the laptop and smiles. “I don't believe that. You seem to be a hard partier.”

I try to not let an exasperated grunt escape from my lips. This guy was really pissing me off. “I'm a biology major. If I had time to party, you think I would party?”

He nods. “Have you ever gotten drunk?”

This time I slam my laptop shut and glare at him. “Listen, person sitting across the table, I'm trying really hard not to get up and leave. I have two papers due next week and I haven't started either of them. TWO. With you buzzing in my ear like some kind of...”

“Bee?”

“Yes! Like some kind of bee, I can't get any work done.”

He scratches his brown hair. “So... You want me to shut up?”

How to delicately put this.... “YES.”

For a moment, I feel like taking it back because he looks genuinely upset. He fits the profile of my ideal guy, physically at least. Dark hair, light eyes, light build, good sense of style. Personality wise, he could use some heavy maintenance. But, despite all this, cute boys shouldn't look... well, sad.

I let out a heavy sigh and rub my temples with my fingers. “What's your name?”


A bright smile spreads across his face and he looks like a little boy waking up on Christmas morning. “Logan Peterson. I'm a Junior majoring in Engineering.”

Quite the confident introduction. “I'm Ameena Rogers. Sophomore Biology major.”

“I don't mean to be rude, but are you half white?”

Another eyebrow rising question. “My father's Indian and my mother's British.”

And another childish grin. “That would explain your creamy caramel complexion.”

My face grows hot and, to cover it up, I yank open my laptop.

Logan reaches his hand over the computer and stands up. “Nice to meet you, Ameena. I'm single and I'd be happy to see you here, again, tomorrow.”

My face continues growing red. Was he asking me out in a strange way? It was the first time I'd ever been asked out so I was confused. I shake his hand but don't expect him to lean forward and pecks me on the lips. My face flares up again; I must be as red as a tomato.

“See you around.” He winks, swinging his bag over his shoulder and heading towards the exit.

I sit there, flabbergasted and awestruck, before I stand up, spin around in his direction, and scream, “that was my first kiss, you a**hole!”