Code Blue

Lexi vs. Red Solo Cups

Tongue poking between my lips, I furrowed my brow in concentration as I stared intently at my phone screen.

Sup, Max, it's Lexi.

I immediately cringed in disgust and backspaced. This text message was supposed to come off casual, but not as though I'd just spent the weekend hanging with the surfers at the beach.

Hello, Max. This is Lexi from Leadership in Business club.

Nope. That sounded as though I was trying to sell him life insurance. Sighing, in frustration, I backspaced what was now my sixth attempt at starting a conversation with Max and looked up at the sound of the door opening, flashing a smile as Quinn entered.

"You seem distressed," she lifted one eyebrow at me, stepping out of her athletic shoes beside her bed and pulling her hair from its ponytail.

"I'm a little on edge," I admitted. "How was the game?"

Quinn had played volleyball all through high school, but opted out of playing for the university's team in favor of focusing on her degree. Still, she missed the competitive atmosphere and the workout, so she had joined an intramural team for fun and played every Friday afternoon because she didn't have classes.

"We won!" she smiled brightly, crossing her arms to pull her sweat dampened shirt over her head and leaving her in just her sports bra and shorts as she walked towards her closet to toss it in the laundry hamper. "You know, if you want to join the team, you're more than welcome. Anyone's allowed to play."

I was pretty sure that was her way of telling me I needed to branch out more, which I supposed was fair, seeing as my days consisted of being as discreet as possible as I basically stalked Max from afar and then came back to my dorm room to sigh in frustration as I attempted to understand my homework.

"Thanks for the invite, but I'll pass," I smiled ruefully. "I'm horrible at sports."

It was a requirement of the agency to be physically fit in order to be allowed to work in the field at all, but that didn't mean that athletics came naturally to me.

"Well, the offer stands," she laughed, closing her closet door once she'd tossed her t-shirt inside and taking a step towards me, her hands on her hips. "So how come you're making faces at your phone?"

I should have known I wouldn't get away with hiding my dilemma from her, because apparently I showed my emotions extremely freely, something I really needed to work on. Sighing, I glanced down at the empty text message thread. "I'm not exactly sure how to do this."

Technically speaking, I didn't actually need to ask Max for his address, because the agency could get me that information in a heartbeat. The trouble was that if I just showed up at his party without asking where he lived and what time I should be there; he'd probably be a little more than suspicious.

Nodding once, she took a seat on my bed beside me, holding out her hand to silently ask if she could see my phone and smiling widely when I dropped it in her palm. Her eyebrows immediately shot up at the sight of the blank white screen and the name printed on the top. "Max? As in Max Stafford? How'd you get his number?"

"What do you mean?" I blinked, surprised at her first question about the situation. "He gave it to me."

She stared at me for about three seconds before she burst out laughing, shaking her head in wonder. "Amazing. There's people that have been chasing after Max Stafford since the moment he stepped on campus two years ago and you've been here a week and you already have his number."

"I didn't realize it was such a big deal," I furrowed my brow in confusion, thinking Max was the type of guy who probably gave his number to lots of people.