Chapter 3: Campus Queen, Bestie Schemes

Campus was abuzz: the art department’s queen, Brooke Sandler, had stormed into the guys’ dorm and dumped a plate of greasy food all over a guy in 302.

According to my best friend Lauren, there were already seven or eight versions of the story going around.

The two most popular: "heartbroken revenge" and "avenging a friend."

The "heartbroken" version was based on my line about the simp delivering in person, and had spawned a hundred-thousand-word epic about my tragic love with Chase Miller, ending with "beautiful idiot can’t judge people."

The "avenging a friend" version pointed out I’d never even joined the student group chat in two years, so how could I have such bad taste? The consensus: "She must be avenging someone else—so cool!"

..."

I massaged my forehead: "Isn’t Silver Heights University supposed to be the country’s top school? Doesn’t anyone study instead of gossiping?"

Lauren shrugged: "Gossip’s way more fun than studying—everyone here’s a natural, a few days off won’t hurt."

"Tsk."

True. No one who gets into Silver Heights is dumb.

—Except maybe that super handsome guy outside the dorm. He’s a little out of place here.

Thinking about it, my attention drifted: "You mentioned a group chat... what group?"

"...I thought you just didn’t want to join because it’s noisy. Didn’t realize you didn’t even know it existed." Lauren shook her head in disbelief, pulling me into the group. "No wonder you’re the social-iceberg beauty."

"Hey, I’ve got you as my built-in bestie, so I don’t need to socialize."

Lauren and I met after high school in a summer art program. She’s got a great eye for art, but surprisingly, she’s never studied it formally.

I found it intriguing, so we started talking. Since we both go to the same university, we got closer and closer. With such a caring "built-in bestie," I really had no need to socialize.

"You..." Lauren shook her head. "Single since birth for so long, and your first boyfriend is a total jerk. Want me to introduce you to some great guys?"

"You know hot guys and you’re keeping them from me? Not cool!"

"I don’t know them well, just Evan’s roommate."

Evan, Lauren’s model boyfriend.

She scrolled through her phone and handed me a Messenger contact: "You could give it a try—he’s a bit aloof, though."

"Aloof, huh? Forget it." I gave up immediately. "Don’t want to bother someone who’ll just get annoyed... not exactly a great setup for romance."

"True, love’s all about fate."

Lauren agreed.

That night, she dragged me to a bar.

Wearing a black crop top, I felt amazing and kept spinning in front of her: "I’m so hot—is there a guy on earth who deserves me?"

"Yeah, yeah." Lauren was busy trying the bar’s free birthday cake, but still humored me. "...But you’re drunk."

"Haha, I’m gorgeous, I want to marry myself—I’m not drunk! I’m totally sober!"

"You’re drunk... hey, don’t eat that! That’s the cake wrapper!"

I shouted, "I’m not drunk!"

Then I started scanning the bar: "I—I remember, I remember we came here to find hot guys! I remember perfectly! I’m not drunk!"

Lauren tried to hold me back: "Jeez... Brooke, how do you get this drunk on beer?"

"I’m not crazy, I’m just looking for hot guys."

I giggled, slipped out of her grip, and latched onto a cute guy nearby: "Hey handsome, wanna add me on Snapchat?"

The guy, with red lips and white teeth, looked vaguely familiar. He backed away, wary: "You again?"

"Wh-what do you mean, ‘again’?"

Everyone knows drunk people can’t think straight—even if I didn’t want to admit it at the time. I just clung to his sleeve.

"I get it, you’re hot, I’m hot, we must’ve been married in a past life! You even remember me..."

Lauren gave me a despairing look, probably thinking I was hopeless: "Sorry, Ryan, she’s drunk."

She paused, then grinned slyly:

"Why not just give her your Snapchat? If you refuse, she’ll make a scene."