“Sorry.” His cheeks flush slightly, but he quickly recovers with a grin. “I’m still a bit annoyed with them. They threw a bloody toga party on Saturday. We’re still cleaning up the house.”
My body instantly tenses. Toga party? The same toga party where I was wasted and making out with Ashton? I swallow before I manage to ask in strained whisper, “Where did you say you lived?” I have no clue where that party was, so knowing the address makes no difference. What does make a difference is whether Connor was there to witness my spectacle.
He slows to look at me with a curious expression. “Just off campus, with a few other guys.”
Just off campus. That’s what Reagan said when we headed out that night. Maybe there was more than one toga party that night?
“Oh yeah?” I try to make my voice sound light and relaxed. Instead I sound like someone’s choking the life out of me. “I went to a toga party on Saturday.”
He grins. “Really? Must have been my house. Not many people throw toga parties anymore.” With an eye roll, he mutters, “My roommate, Grant. He’s cheesy like that. Did you have fun?”
“Uh. Yeah.” I watch him from the corner of my eye. “Did you?”
“Oh, I was in Rochester for my cousin’s wedding,” he confirms, shaking his head. “Kind of sucked that it was the same weekend, but my family’s big on . . family. My mom would have killed me if I missed it.”
I let the air release from my lungs painfully slowly, just so it’s not obvious how relieved I am that Connor wasn’t there. Although if he had been, he probably wouldn’t be talking to me right now.
“I heard it got pretty wild, though. Cops shut it down.”
“Yeah, there were some drunk people there. . . ,” I say slowly and then, wanting desperately to change the subject, I ask, “What’s your major?”
“Politics. I’m pre-law.” He watches me closely as he talks. “Hoping for Yale or Stanford next year, if all goes well.”
“Nice,” is all I can think to say. And then I catch myself staring at those friendly green eyes and smiling.
“And you? Any ideas what you’re going to major in?”
“Molecular biology. Hoping for med school.”
A rare frown furrows Connor’s brow. “You know you can still apply to med school with a humanities major, don’t you?”
“I know, but sciences are easy for me.”
“Huh.” Connor’s eyes appraise me curiously. “Beautiful and smart. A deadly combination.”
I duck my head as a blush creeps into my cheeks.
“Well, here we are.” He gestures toward my hall. “Gorgeous building, isn’t it?”
I tip my head back to take in the Gothic architecture. Normally, I’d agree. Now, though, I find myself disappointed because it means my tour, and my time with the smiling Connor, is over. And I’m not ready yet.
I watch as he backs away, sliding his hands into his pockets. “It was nice to meet you, Livie from Miami.”
“You too, Connor from Dublin.”
He kicks a loose stone around with his shoe for a few awkward seconds as I stand and watch. Then he asks, almost hesitantly, “We’re having little party over at our house this Saturday, if you’re interested. Bring that wild roommate you talked about, if you want.”
With my head tilted and my lips pursed, I say, “But I thought you said the parties were over once classes started.”
His eyes search my face, a thoughtful gleam in them. “Unless it’s an excuse to invite a beautiful girl over.” Then his cheeks redden and his gaze drops to the ground.
And I realize that, on top of being good-looking, Connor is about as charming as they come. Not sure how to answer, I simply say, “See you Saturday.”
“Perfect. Say, eight o’clock?” He rhymes off a street name and house number and, with one last, wide grin, he takes off at a slight jog as if late for something. I lean against the bench and watch him go, wondering if he was just being nice. And then, as he’s about to slip behind a building, he slows and turns to look back in my direction. Seeing that I’m still watching, he blows a kiss my way and disappears.
And I have to press my lips together to keep from grinning like an idiot.
This day is definitely looking up.
CHAPTER FIVE
Diagnosis
While I’ve attempted to experience as many of Princeton’s campus-coordinated events as possible as a way of immersing myself in the spirit and culture, Reagan has decided to immerse herself in as many beer-and-vodka-coordinated events as exist. And she’s decided that I need immersing along with her. It’s because I want to please my lively roommate that I ended up at dorm parties every night this week and in bed each morning with heavy eyelids. That, and I also hoped I’d run into Connor again. In the back of my mind, there was a fear of running into Ashton, too. In the end, hope won out over fear.