CHAPTER 7: COLLISION COURSE

"So, is it a sleepover with Jake or not?" Avery inquires, sipping her tea — pun intended.

I respond, "No, far from it. I spent the last hour of my Friday night escorting a lunatic who seemed hell-bent on self-destruction home." I recount the tale to Avery.

"No way!" She practically shrieks. "I knew I'd made the right choice with him! And using the IV drip as a diversion... you go, girl! Works like a charm to play hard to get."

"Yeah, well, maybe a little too well," I mutter.

Honestly, I hadn't anticipated him actually wanting to walk me home. I thought he'd give up after a few rejections.

"You can say that again," Avery quips, winking. "It's pretty evident he's already into you."

"Whatever," I quickly retort before her thoughts run amok. "So, how was your night with Kalix?"

She lets out that sigh she only does when she's truly content or satisfied.

"Isabelle, it was mind-blowing. Seriously, the best time I've ever had with a guy."

"Really?" I ask, genuinely surprised. "Even better than Preston Walker?"

"Hands down," she asserts.

"Wow... Mind if I give him a spin myself?" I jest, and a pillow is launched at my face, which I place on my lap, chuckling along with Avery, who finds it equally amusing. "Just kidding," I reassure her. "I'm glad you're having fun, Avery. Who would've thought that seven years later, you and Kalix Miller would be getting hot and heavy at a frat party in California?"

"Seriously, though," she says with a smile, "I completely agree. If someone had told me back then, I would've gone all P!nk and punched them."

"You can say that again," I tease.

"So, what's on your agenda today?" she asks.

"I have to at least start that mini-essay due for Wright. Plus, I've got a reading assignment for Philosophy due by midnight tonight, and a film analysis for Cinema. So, today is pretty much a study day. What about you?"

"My mentor already wants to meet to discuss my plans for the end-of-semester winter showcase. The winner gets two paid tickets to Paris during the first week of winter break. Can you believe that?"

"You're kidding."

"Not in the least," she assures me. "So, if I want to beat those guys, I'll have to be at the top of my game."

"Wait, did you just say 'us'? You want me to go on that trip with you?"

Avery looks at me and exclaims, "Really, bitch?" before setting her tea on her nightstand.

"I hope this time it's you who's joking around. You're my favorite wingwoman, after all! Who else would I take to France to ogle hot French girls and devour croissants? Unless, of course, you already have your own French paramour by the end of the semester." I raise my eyebrows at her, and she retaliates by tossing a pillow my way. Avery will be heading to her meeting shortly, while I work diligently to complete my assignments before my evening shift.

Always be clear about your intentions when you take on a challenge. Know your goal and your plan to achieve it, but be ready to adapt because things can change in an instant.

I had a goal: to prove my theory that Max Blackwell and Blackwell wouldn't become a couple by the end of the semester. I was determined to do whatever it took to demonstrate that such a relationship wouldn't happen due to my commitment issues.

I also had a plan: I'd make myself appear hard to get, and if Max didn't give up, I'd do something about it. I believed I was making good progress, but now that circumstances have shifted, what's next? What do I do now that my subject seems elusive, or worse, actively avoiding me? My theory is getting murkier.

Let me backtrack as we return to the past:

I entered this week with the hope that my strategy would pique Max's interest and that my avoidance of him in our shared classes, the only place I've seen him, would bruise his ego further. However, it's been a whole week since last Saturday night, and the only result so far is that his mouth seems to be quite preoccupied with smooching different girls during our classes.

"Attendance, duh!" My inner voice reminds me. "Oh, right."

So, that's the scoop. Blackwell and I have tried to steer clear of each other all week. I know why I'm doing it, but what's his deal?

As I exit my Philosophy class and head to my next one, I shake off the question. Why does it even matter? If he doesn't make an effort by the end of the semester, it's game over, right? I can move on with my life and finally confide in Avery about what I said.

Oh, boy.

"Whoa! My bad. You alright?"

I glance at the guy I accidentally bumped into when he suddenly stopped in his tracks. He's actually kind of good-looking, covered in tattoos, and sports the most impressive eyebrows I've ever seen. Despite the semester being just a few weeks old, I've never spotted him in this building, let alone this class.

"Careful there," he says, gently ushering me aside to allow others to pass. "Wouldn't want you getting hurt again."

He grins at me, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth. Why do college guys with tattoos always seem to have teeth as white as pearls?

"Sure," I reply, turning back to our conversation. "My bad. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

"No worries. I'm just sorry about your nice top."

"Excuse me?" I inquire, somewhat baffled, and he gestures toward my shirt.

I look down and discover a sizable coffee stain matching the iced coffee I had in hand. Upon inspecting my cup, I notice that roughly a third of my coffee has vanished.

Oh, great. Seriously?

I mutter, "Ah, whatever," with a nonchalant shrug, though I'm mildly annoyed. "It was probably too cold to drink by now, anyhow."

He chuckles at my remark and offers to cover the dry cleaning cost.

"Don't sweat it," he insists.

"It's not the first time this has happened," I confess, shamelessly. "Let's just say I know a few quick fixes."

"At least let me buy you another coffee sometime. After all, you did bump into me."

"Thanks, but it's not a big deal."

"How about a chocolate croissant on the side?" He adds with a playful smile.

"Alright then..." I pause to get his name.

"Ryan," he supplies, extending his hand for a handshake. I oblige.

"Well, Ryan, I'm sure we can figure something out." He beams, and it's a smile that could win awards.

"And you are?" He reminds me that I haven't introduced myself yet.

"Right," I laugh. "I'm L—"

But before I can complete my introduction, a forceful shoulder slams into me, causing the remainder of my coffee to spill all over Ryan.

"Damn! I'm so—"

"Hey! Watch where you're going next time!" Ryan shouts at the perpetrator, grumbling "damn jerk."

I spin around to identify the culprit but only glimpse a figure clad entirely in gray and black exiting the building.

Hold on... that hoodie, the LA keychain on his backpack zipper...

"Max," I whisper as discreetly as I can.

"You were saying something?" Ryan inquires, and as I turn back, I find him looking at me.

"I'm just relieved the coffee wasn't hot," I lie.

"Well, I'm not really lying since I'm glad he didn't get burned, but that's not what I initially said."

"Right," he responds with an awkward chuckle. "Well, I better change before my next class."

"Guess I'll catch you around," he tells me and departs the building before I can bring up the coffee date.

I continue on to my next class, still sporting my stained shirt. It's unfortunate, but my mind remains fixated on how Max bumped into me without uttering a word just as I was about to reveal my name to Ryan. I mean, I didn't actually expect him to say anything, given his avoidance of me over the past few days, but still, he could have at least said "excuse me" or something. Perhaps he really is bipolar.