was not shy. I just had no idea what the hell was going on.
“We should get going, or we’re going to be late,” the other Potter person said.
I looked between the three of them as Lauren slowly gathered up her things and started shoving them in her messenger bag. She was clearly leaving with them.
“Be late for what? I’m not going anywhere,” I argued. “I have a test tomorrow.”
Fake Ron—or Real Ron, I still had no idea—pulled a chocolate frog from a pocket in his cape and handed it to me. A chocolate frog! Like from the movie! I stared at it like it might come to life and start hopping around, leaving little chocolate frog prints all over the books and the shelves and the walls. How pissed off would the janitorial staff be if they had to find all those little things and clean them off? I imagined that a frog hopped around a lot before you actually caught it.
What the hell is wrong with me? I shook my head.
“Are you coming?” Lauren asked, and I realized that no one had told me where they were going yet.
“Where?”
“To the party,” the other Potter said like I was an idiot who should know exactly what party he spoke of.
“Is it a costume party?” I asked, still completely confused.
“What? No. Why would you say that?” Fake/Real Ron asked seriously, and I wondered if I’d fallen and hit my head.
Was I sleeping? I pinched my arm and flinched. No. Definitely not asleep.
“You guys go ahead,” I said slowly, wondering briefly if I was being filmed for a prank show. Glancing down at my books, I pointed to them with my finger—because, unlike the Potter people, I didn’t have a wand to point with. “I have to study.”
“I thought you said she’d agreed to come?” Fake/Real Ron pointed his wand at Lauren, and she backed up a step before apologizing. “I don’t want to be a third wheel. You promised, Lauren.” He was getting riled up, his wand waving all over the place, and I thought he might stab her in the eye with it if he wasn’t careful. “You said she liked Harry Potter and this wouldn’t be weird.”
Lauren looked back at me with a pleading look in her still-intact eyes, and I shook my head. I loved that girl, but I wasn’t going anywhere with them.
I’d assumed we’d both learned our lesson when it came to coordinating blind dates without asking, but now, I wasn’t so sure.
“Stop looking at me like that. I did not set you up with anyone,” she reprimanded me as she read my thoughts. “I promised I’d never do that again.” She reached for her door handle and pushed it open, stepping out.
I did the same, getting out of the car and looking across the top of it at her. “Tell me how this is more for me then.”
“Fine.” She huffed out a quick breath like whatever admittance came next was going to physically pain her. “I stalked him. Then stalked the band. And their social media pages are crap. Not updated at all. How can you expect to grow if you don’t even do the simplest thing, like tell people you have a show coming up? It’s like they’re not even trying.”
Realization dawned on me as we weaved through cars in the parking lot and walked toward the tree-lined campus. “And that’s where I come in.”
“That’s where you come in.” She felt satisfied with her idea, I could tell. And she wasn’t wrong to feel that way.
Social media management was what I planned to do with my life, and she knew that I was always looking for a good addition to include in my online portfolio. So far, I handled a few accounts for professors who had creative side gigs regularly as well as a handful of people who wanted me to focus on highlighting particular activities or events. Those were short-term gigs but still resulted in huge awareness and success on all fronts.
When I’d mentioned what I was doing to Cole one time, he’d told me that when he got drafted, I’d be his second hire—after his agent, of course. He said he wanted me to handle all of his online accounts. That there wasn’t anyone else he could think of trusting more than me. I remembered blushing and feeling so incredibly flattered. I went home that night and researched other baseball players, taking notes on what their sites were like, when and how