Playing Cupid

CHAPTER 3

Playing Cupid

•••SKYLAR•••

April's nonstop chatter about Westbrook filled the car ride home, each topic she brought up had a new fun fact.

"West shattered Jack Miles' long standing NCAA record of most rushing touchdowns by a quarterback last season."

I had zoned out minutes ago, as I leaned my head on the side window, struggling to fall asleep.

"Hellooo, Earth to Sky."

Opening my eyes, I rubbed my temples, to suppress a migraine.

"Yeah, I get it. He's a football star and has a lot of girls throwing themselves at him. But honestly, I don't care. And oh yeah, thanks for ditching me, by the way."

"I'm sorry! I had to do it, you needed to step out of your rut. Now, back to West."

"I'm not in a rut, shrink, and can you please stop sounding like a canary bird? I'm not into him."

"Come on, don't say that. He's a catch! And who knows, maybe you will be the one to tame him."

"I don't think so. Taming some arrogant quarterback isn't on my bucket list." Accepting defeat, the rest of our ride home was quiet. When we entered our apartment building, she spoke up again.

"Sky, all you have to do is think about it."

"Wait a minute, did he put you up to this?" I asked furiously, looking into the fridge for a drink.

April shook her head. "No, I just think you guys would be so cute together."

"Well, thanks for the keen interest in my dating life, but I'm good," I responded, before gulping down seltzer water.

"Fine. So you know you are legit living in another dimension, 'cause some girls will die for him," she said, storming off.

I released a sigh of relief, grateful to be free from her cupid attempts. I know April means well. My mind went back to the party as I walked over to my room.

Despite my initial impression of him, the sparks I felt when talking to Westbrook meant I couldn't resist him for long.

Pushing the thought aside, I focused on getting ready for bed. Changing into comfortable pajamas, I climbed into bed.

Settling under the covers, I looked up at the glow in the dark stars I had hung last summer that partly lit up my room. Unable to sleep, I flicked on the light and walked to the kitchen.

Taking out a box of chocolate and strawberries from the fridge, I turned on the stove, melted the chocolate in a pan, and poured it into a ceramic bowl.

Gripping a glass of lemonade and my dessert, I sat down at my desk to catch up on some coursework, pausing every now and then while I read to savor a spoonful of the dessert.

As the night wore on, my eyelids grew heavy. I knew it was time to call it a night. Closing my book, I finished the last of the mixture and headed to bed. The calm I thought would come didn't. All I could think about was that arrogant jerk.