Megan's Blog: April 28, 2013

Megan:  April 28, 2013

I was right. Scott really wanted Sarah. He was all over me today, trying to extract her phone number from me. I met Peterson and him for lunch, and it was the first thing that came out of Scott’s mouth.

“I've got to get her number,” he said. “Your friend is exactly what I need, but I didn't have enough time to work my magic. Just give me her number.” He took out his phone, so confident.

I told him “no,” and he set his phone on the table, staring at me like I had just taken a sledgehammer to his Xbox one.

“Come on. My mojo was all off that night. She didn't get to see the real me or she definitely would have been all over this.” He flexed his biceps and I started laughing, unable to control myself. “What’s so funny? You can’t tell me that you don’t want a piece of this.”

I was still laughing when Peterson wrapped his arm around me and spoke up. “Not a chance, douche lord. Not when she’s got me.”

“You’re not her type,” I told Scott, trying hard not to crush his fragile self-esteem. Guys who plump their feathers the biggest are usually the easiest to break.

“What, is she into girls?”

I explained to the Lord of Douches that not every girl who’s not into him is a lesbian. Why do guys always say that? It’s such a copout. I like our new nickname for him, though. It fits him. “Sarah likes a guy with some depth, Douche Lord.”

“I can show her some depth,” he said, stroking the front of his jeans.

I rolled my eyes. “And that is exactly why she would never date you. She wants a guy that sees beyond his dick and actually cares about the world. She will never go out with you. You may as well give it up. You’re too self-satisfying.” So much for protecting his ego. Now it was Peterson’s turn to laugh.

Scott scoffed like he still thought she was gay, and then took a long sip of his coke with a contemplative expression. I thought for a minute that he might understand my point after all, but then he told me to make sure she was at their next party so Sarah could decide for herself. I rolled my eyes again. Some guys will never understand women.

Sarah's Journal: April 26, 2013

Sarah:  April 26, 2013

He was there again. I can’t believe it. Cracked23 appeared again after I commented on some ridiculous article. I think I’m just going to that site to talk to him. He’s so funny. He totally gets my sense of humor. His name is Will. He told me today. He doesn't have a last name apparently, “only Will.”
I asked if I googled “Will” would I find a picture of him?

“I don’t know. I've never done it before, but my face is all over the internet. I’m totally famous so it wouldn't surprise me,” he typed. “If a guy pops up, decent looking—dark hair, blue eyes, it’s probably me.”

I tried it and ended up with a list of will writing services. We both LOL’d. He kept commenting on how everyone needed a “Will.” He’s so self-assured that I’m starting to doubt the couch potato theory.

Hmm…dark hair and blue eyes—I can definitely work with that.

Mia's Fabulous World: April 25, 2013

Mia Thompson:  April 25, 2013

What the hell is going on with Jonathan? Sometimes I don’t have a clue what is going on in that head of his. I thought that this PR ploy to have us seen together in public would be the perfect opportunity to start up a friends-with-benefits between us. Why not? Neither of us is seeing anyone right now and it would definitely be beneficial. But last weekend, when we pulled up to the valet station at the Hotel Freemont and I told the attendant that we wouldn't need the car until the morning, Jonathan said, “She’s joking. We just came for dinner—two, three hours max.”

Then, as he handed the valet a large bill, he leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Just dinner, Mia. That’s all I need. There’s no need to put on an elaborate show. Last weekend’s press was probably enough and tonight is just to seal it. We don’t have to pretend to spend the night together.”

The camera flashes sprayed us as he slipped his arm around my waist and we posed on the sidewalk for a very short minute. I understand his hate of the paparazzi, but they are a necessary entity. If you’re not good enough for the vultures, then you won’t carry a film and you won’t get the big roles.

My hotel room surprise was meant to inspire and any other male would have jumped at the offer, so I opened the conversation again, just in case he didn't understand. “Pretend? I wasn't pretending. I already booked the room, lover-boy.” I kissed his cheek to elicit a photo frenzy before we stepped through the door, and he chuckled.

“Now the press will say we’re getting married. Either I’m gay or engaged. There’s no in between.”

“I can vouch for you. Just give me your permission to share,” I said and he chuckled again. “Or we could just leak a video of us using the room I booked.” I knew I could get him to smile. Damn, I love that dimple of his. Why did we break up? 

The rest of the night was more platonic than I would admit to anyone. We caught up on each other’s families and I showed him my mother’s “tell all” article in the rags. She’s such a bitch. We ran into a couple of people we both knew and shared some drinks. But Jonathan seemed a bit distracted all night, like his mind was elsewhere and we left without using the room.

Sarah's Journal: April 20, 2013

Sarah:  April 20, 2013

The girls and I went to a house party last night. A guy that Megan is seeing lives there. A frat house wasn't really my first choice for the evening, but my choices are a bit limited until my birthday. It was good to be out with girls, though.

I’m glad the house was dark because I didn't want to see any deeper into the dim shadows. It was the kind of house that spawns teenage horror movies, where a blob of unknown origin rises out of the carpet and swallows all the house’s occupants. The carpet? Eeew! Every time I lifted my foot to walk I was halted by my boot sticking to the floor. I felt like a mouse on one of those sticky traps. How do guys live like that? I was afraid to sit down all night.

Once I got past the ambiance, I had a good time. I didn't know anyone there, except the girls, but I didn't get bored. Jessica introduced me to a couple of nursing students and the guys that lived at the house were actually pretty nice. A guy named Scott kept refilling my cup for me and offered to show me around the house. I’m sure it was just a ploy to get me to his room, though. He was so not my type—totally enamored by himself. As I stood listening to Scott tell me how brilliant he was, and how he was going to take over the marketing for his dad’s Internet company, I kept looking around wondering if another guy at the party could be Cracked23. Scott obviously wasn't him.

I’m so pathetic. I know Cracked23 is probably just a made-up persona devised by a couch potato living in his mom’s basement, but the couch potato seems to know exactly what I want to hear and I can’t get him out of my mind. Maybe I can coax him out of the basement someday.

Megan's Blog: April 20, 2013

Megan:  April 20, 2013 

  

I took the girls to Peterson’s party last night. Even Alli came. She’s been so disconnected lately, so focused on school that I was certain she would make an excuse not to go. I guess now that she’s finished her MCATs, she’ll start showing her face again. It was like old times with the four of us girls out together, and the way the frat boys’ eyes popped when we came through the door was well worth our effort. The drool was dripping off their chins by the time we got our cups. It’s not like we were the only girls there, but I could still hear Peterson’s man card points racking up with his buddies, and I couldn't stop laughing as his frat brothers slapped his shoulder and tossed him a nod. The dance that guys do to show their appreciation is comical.

His roommate, Scott, really wanted Sarah, but she wasn't biting—not that she would ever go for a guy like Scott. He’s forward like Peterson, too aggressive for Sarah. Ever since Matt, she only dates a select few and never a guy from a party. I don’t know why she takes guys so seriously. They can’t hurt you unless you let them. I don’t let them.

Sarah's Journal: April 18, 2013

Sarah: April 18, 2013

I visited the gossip site again today. I don’t know why I keep going back there. It’s like an addiction. I've never followed Hollywood, before. It seems so fake, so plastic. I think it’s the people who comment on the site that fascinate me the most. Some of them voice the narrowest thoughts, like they can’t see outside the glass in their houses to the outside world and could never put themselves in anyone else's shoes. Today I ran across a guy who wrote a 300 word blog comment on how celebrities deserved what they get from the press. The article linked to it was about a well-known comedian who got arrested after he smashed a guy’s phone. Apparently the guy had taken a picture of the comedian using the urinal before the incident, but the comedian still got arrested. The blogger’s point was that celebrities were paid a ton of money so they should have to put up with strangers snapping their photos. “It’s part of fame’s baggage.”

I posed the question, “Was the guy taking the picture paying the comedian?”

That’s when Cracked23 joined in and wrote, “Good point, Supermodel.”

It made me laugh. I couldn't believe he remembered me. I had to confess that I wasn't really a supermodel, and after that it seemed like we were in our own little chat room. I was on the website for another hour. If I hadn't had class today, which I ended up being late for, I would still be there.

Megan's Blog: April 17, 2013

Megan: April 17, 2013

I ran into Cody Evans in the Student Union this morning. His Holy Hotness asked me out, again. He was dead serious when he asked. Why do guys do that? He knows I’m with Peterson. Is it macho to steal a girl away from one of your friends? Don’t guys have a code? Girls just don’t do that to each other. OK. I know they do it to each other all the time, but not my friends. That would never fly in my world.

It’s not that I would leave Peterson for Evans, anyway, but I didn't refuse his offer. I just laughed and told him that he couldn't handle me. He came back with some lame line about definitely knowing how to handle me. I rolled my eyes and flipped my hair back as I walked away. I’ll keep him on the line just in case I need him.

It’s not that I’m attached to Dylan Peterson. I don’t get attached, not anymore. Peterson and I will stick it out until the basketball season ends, though. We both like the game and he has season tickets. It would be stupid to hang it up before then. It’ll be easier if he makes the motion to end it. Guys’ egos are so fragile. Once we've played out, I’ll move on to Evans or some other hard body without regrets.