player for the rest of our time at Brentwood.
Laughing nervously, I adjust my glasses and say, “Good cookie, right? Yeah, delicious. Got to love the subtle hint of nuts. Hawaii in your mouth, am I right?” No answer. “Okay, then. I’ll . . . uh”—I thumb behind me—“I’ll be seeing you boys.” Because I can’t seem to control myself or anything I do, I salute Carson, bow my head, and make way back to my dorm, my cheeks burning in complete . . . there is no word adequate. Shame? Mortification? Distress? Misery?
I did not just shove a white chocolate macadamia nut cookie in Carson Stone’s mouth . . .
Oh God, but I did.
Complete darkness, only the subtle sounds of the other dorm rooms around me, just what I need right now. Being an RA is really paying off at the moment, because I don’t need to talk to anyone or look at anyone—well, unless one of the students need something, but I put up a sign on my door that said only if it’s an emergency. My floor is cool, they know I need a minute.
And boy, do I need a minute.
What the hell was I thinking?
I shoved a cookie in another human’s mouth to stop them from talking, without even thinking, arm propelled straight forward ending in a slam dunk into Carson Stone’s mouth.
Since I haven’t seen any sort of breaking news report of one of Brentwood baseball’s finest athletes going into anaphylactic shock, I’m going to assume he’s good with the nuts.
Thank God for small miracles.
I’m never this awkward, this uneasy around guys, because I’ve always been one of them. I’ve never had a hard time hanging out with the opposite sex or striking up conversation, but there’s something about Carson, or the baseball team at Brentwood in general, that has my panties in a twist, making me say and do stupid things.
Carson seems to be getting the brunt of it.
Thank God I work with the golf team, because Lord knows if I was in the weight room with the entire baseball team, I would be shoving weights up who-knows-what all over the place.
The training staff would ask me to leave, my services no longer needed.
I press my hand against my forehead and stare at the dark ceiling, wondering how I’ll ever recover from this.
One thing’s for sure, I’m not eating at Lakeview anymore, even if it’s the closest dining hall to my dorm. Even if they have the best view. Even if their paninis are extraordinary combinations of bread, sauces, and meats. Nope, can’t go back. Hyde Park it is and their lackluster choices for college cuisine.
My phone buzzes next to me. I’m actually surprised it’s taken this long. It’s been at least two hours. Although . . . what if they were talking this entire time, trying to do damage control for my blunder?
Panic explodes within me, and I quickly pick up my phone to see a text from Shane in the group text I share with him and Jerry.
I swipe open my phone and squint while reading it. Please don’t let it be bad.
Shane: So . . . you shoved a cookie down Carson Stone’s mouth. That was fun.
Groaning, I quickly type him back just as Jerry responds.
Jerry: I don’t think I know who was more shocked, you or him.
Milly: Please tell me he walked away the minute I left.
Shane: Well, he chewed for a few seconds, because you did shove a cookie down his throat without his consent. At least agree to a safe word next time, Milly.
Jerry: I offered him your Sprite to wash it down, but he declined, and guess what? I listened to him instead of thrusting the beverage into his mouth.
Milly: Please, spare me the jokes. I’m already on the verge of jumping off a cliff. Did he say anything?
Shane: Once again, his mouth was full, but I did tell him that you have an involuntary tick that causes you to shove unwanted food in people’s faces and awkwardly salute for no reason.
Milly: You did not.
Jerry: He did.
Milly: Shane! Why would you do that?”
Shane: Why would you force-feed Carson Stone a cookie?
Milly: I don’t know. **Flails** I really don’t know.
Jerry: I’ve seen you do some pretty weird things since I’ve known you, Milly, but that tops them all. I think we need to revisit the whole crush angle, because I’ve never seen you act like that toward a guy before.
Milly: I don’t have a crush.
Shane: I’m pretty sure half