“Does this text message say what I think it does, or am I still dreaming?” Kyle stumbled into our living room and plopped onto the couch. “In my dream, I had an inflatable hot tub in my bedroom, so I’m not sure if I’m completely awake yet.”

“You really do have an inflatable hot tub in your room, Kyle.” I glanced down our hallway and noticed a blonde tiptoeing out of his room.

Why is she climbing out of the window?

“Okay, so I am awake.” He laughed and held his phone in front of his face. “But your text message has to be a joke then, right?”

“Forget I ever sent it.”

“How can I convince a girl to give me her phone number?” He read my words aloud and laughed even louder. “I could’ve sworn you were the one who said we weren’t in high school anymore.”

“Go back to sleep, Kyle.”

"Trust me. I will." He was still laughing. "To answer your question, though. You say, Hey. I'm Grayson fucking Connors, and I want your phone number. That works ninety-nine percent of the time."

“I’ve already tried that on this girl.”

“Then try it on another one.” He shrugged. “There are way too many girls here to get attached to one your senior year, especially right before you head into the league. But hey, if you are trying to get attached to someone, keep that line of thinking far away from me because I’m too busy trying to break a personal record this year.”

“How’s that going so far?”

“I’m about five behind from where I was at this point last year.” He pulled out his phone and tapped his screen. “But according to my calculations, if I attend a few additional showings of The Vagina Monologues, there’s a high chance I could surpass last year’s mark by this weekend. Would you like to see my spreadsheet?”

“You have a spreadsheet?” I gave him a blank stare.

“Of course I do. I need a way to make sure my numbers are always on track. It’s the mark of a good Economics major.”

“For the umpteenth time, you are a Communications major. You've taken one economics class, and you got a C."

“A C plus.” He laughed and put his phone away. “Anyway, whoever this mystery girl is you’ve been hanging out with these days, better be hot as hell. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re not around as much lately. I just hope it’s not Charlotte Taylor.” He burst into laughter again. “That would be the most—I mean, can you imagine dealing with Miss ‘I want to make cookies and coffee so we can talk all night?’ Outside of your tutoring sessions? Oh, God, that would be—" He stopped laughing once he saw the look on my face. "Oh, come on! You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I didn’t say anything.

“She’s the one who won’t give you her phone number?” His jaw dropped. “In that case, she’s even worse than my friend Mike said. I mean, at the rate you’re going, she probably won’t let you kiss her until she’s eighty. Hell, now that I think about it, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a goddamn virgin.”

I still didn’t say anything.

“Like, this doesn’t make any sense at all for someone like you. Out of all the girls on this campus that would drop their panties for you in a heartbeat, all the girls who are willing to come home with you after every party ..." He stood up and paced the floor with a panicked look on his face as if he was contemplating something complex. "You're chasing someone who won't give you her phone number, Grayson.”

“Maybe we should talk about this when you’re completely awake and sane.”

“I’m more than awake right now.” He smiled. “I don’t think I’m going to sleep for five days straight because that’s how long it’s going to take me to process my best friend turning into a pussy.”

“Fuck you, Kyle.”

“Stop chasing Charlotte, and I’ll find girls who’ll happily do that for you.”

“You’re making this a bigger deal than it really is.”

“I’m not, but hold that thought,” he said. “Someone’s knocking at the door. Spoiler alert: It’s a girl I invited over. Double spoiler alert: She’s one of three girls that’ll be over here this weekend alone because I’m not a pussy like you.”

I turned off the TV and braced myself for an evening of his ridiculous logic, but when he returned to the room, he cleared his throat.

“I was wrong,” he said. “The person at the door is for you.”

“Who is it?”

“Miss Cookies and Books.” He smiled. “Shall I put on some coffee?”

I ignored his comment and headed to the door. When I opened it, Charlotte was standing there in another sexy gray dress and a pair of blue heels.

“Yes?” I looked her up and down and was instantly turned on.

“I um ...” Her cheeks turned red as she handed me a pink box. “This is for you.”

“My birthday is next month.”

“It’s not a birthday present,” she said. “My parents came up from my hometown this afternoon. It’s this place called New Brighton with a couple of thousand people. It's like three hours away, so they bring me stuff all the time.”

I raised my eyebrow, completely confused by what she was trying to say.

“Anyway ...” She was still blushing. “I asked them to stop at this place called Harlow’s because I noticed you always eat donuts whenever we’re out, so I figured you might want to try what the best ones in the world taste like.”

“You came all the way to my apartment to bring me donuts?” This was a first.

“Harlow’s donuts.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “They’re nothing like other donuts. I also came up here to personally thank you for the skybox season pass. I’m assuming the delivery I received today was from you?”

“It was.”

“Well, thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome.”

She bit her bottom lip, and I leaned against the doorframe. "Is that all?"

“No, um. I also wanted to tell you that I’ve enjoyed the past few weeks with you at study sessions, especially since we always stay after and talk for a long time. So, I think we can officially be close friends.”

“I think we can be more than close friends.”

"Just friends will suffice."

“For now.”

“Forever.” She smiled and stepped back. “See you later, Grayson.”

I watched her walk away—half aroused, half confused as hell. I returned to the kitchen and set the box on the counter.

“She’s not coming in?” Kyle asked. “I was about to brew the coffee.”

“I’m sure you were.”

“What’s in the box, then?” He pointed. “My guess is your balls. Thank God she was nice enough to return them before the end of the season.”

I held back a laugh and flipped open the box, revealing a dozen strawberry sprinkle donuts with her phone number written on each one in white frosting.

GRAYSON: NOW

Present Day

New York City

SUBJECT: M.I.A?

Grayson,

I called you three times this week, and I've sent you eight emails. Can you please let me know where you stand on the proposal Nike sent over last week? Also, what did you mean when you said you're not going anywhere this summer until you address some "other business?"

Are you signing deals behind my back?

—Anna

SUBJECT: TMZ

A photog caught a grainy image of you walking out of a brownstone across town not too long ago. They’ve posted the image with speculation that you were there to meet a realtor for a new place to stay.

Let me know what you want to tell them about that.

PS—I know you said you're not interested in dating anyone from the fashion world "ever again," but I spoke with supermodel Isabelle Kline's agent and she's staging a major comeback this year. Would you mind having a few staged dates with her? Just for good press to help her out? (It would also add a bit of color to your image when it comes to your dating life, don't you think?)