Page 69 of Fifty First Times (Sharing You 0.40)
He rolls his eyes and gives a little laugh before taking my arm and tugging me outside even as he pops open the umbrella and holds it over our heads.
It’s weird, walking huddled under an umbrella all cozy-like with Garrett Reed, but oddly not unpleasant.
“So I never asked, how was your holiday break?” he asks, as we dodge a huge puddle and make our way across campus.
“Not bad. Pretty uneventful.”
“So no progress on Operation Get-a-Boyfriend?” he asks, glancing down at me.
Weirdly enough, Garrett is the only person at school that knows that I’ve never had a serious boyfriend. I think Corrie suspects as much, but I’ve always been a little vague about my past romantic encounters. Probably because I didn’t have any specifics to talk about. A first kiss at summer camp after sophomore year, a couple movie dates with a guy from my all-girls high school’s “brother school,” and of course the decidedly unromantic prom excursions with Danny Arnstadt.
But no boyfriend. Not really.
“I never should have told you that,” I mutter. It had been a moment of weakness last December. He’d been asking me for advice on what to get Leah for Christmas by asking about my favorite gift from a boyfriend.
I’d slipped and told him I’d never had one, but that I was working on it.
Mercifully, he hadn’t teased me about it. Much.
“It’s not an operation,” I mutter as we come to a stop outside the building of my French class.
“Annie wants a boyfriend, Annie wants a boyfriend . . .” he taunts like a second grader.
I punch him in the gut and he grunts. “Knock it off. I am not talking about this with you.”
I start to walk away when he grabs my arm. I glance down at his hand in surprise, and he drops it quickly. “There’s a party at my house this weekend. You should come.”
“You need help scouting out your next girlfriend,” I say.
“Yeah, because your goody-goody perspective is sure to bring in a winner,” he shoots back. “But seriously, come to the party.”
I admit I’m
a little surprised by the invitation, and although I don’t think I want to go . . . not really, a part of me is intrigued. Instead of living in a dormitory like the rest of us peons, Garrett lives in some fancy brownstone off campus with a bunch of other guys. And from the way he talks about it, they’re always having parties.
“Why would I want to do that?” I ask, stalling for time.
He shrugs. “There’ll be a bunch of people. Maybe you’ll meet a guy.”
“Maybe I have met a guy.”
He looks at me steadily. “Have you?”
Maybe. Possibly. But because I’ll die if I’m proven wrong about Zach, I just shrug instead of telling Garrett about him. “Not really.”
Garrett nods once. “So then come to the party. I’ll give you the details on Thursday.”
He moves away before I can protest, taking the shelter of the umbrella with him, so I’m forced to dart up the stairs to get under cover. “Such a gentleman,” I mutter.
I glance over my shoulder all the same, just for a second, but he’s already joined the maze of other students and umbrellas.
I shake off the rain, as well as any weird vibes I might have been getting from Garrett all day.
And then my phone buzzes, and I make myself forget about Garrett altogether, because it’s a message from Zach.
Ice cream tonight? Just the two of us? I know a place.
I smile happily and respond yes. Maybe next time Garrett asks, I’ll have a boyfriend after all.
