One. Two. Three. This is not happening to me!
Four. Five. Six. Of all the days to get a flat tire, of course it happens today. Already late to school, why not add in tire malfunction?
Seven. Eight. Nine. Only the third day of classes, I have my first lab for chem three-hundred at eight AM sharp. I wanted to get there early so I could scope out the best spot and find a lab partner suitable to spend the next year with together. But of course, here I am, ten till, and still waiting for AAA.
Nine. Ten. Eleven. Note to self: YouTube how to change a tire later.
Being one of the few female chemistry majors means choosing lab partners is particularly daunting. Do I pick the super nerdy pre-med guy who is socially awkward and stands too close? Or do I pick the dude who doesn't understand personal hygiene and spends his free time playing Dungeons and Dragons in his mom's basement. I mean, I've played and all, but it doesn't consume my life.
Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Or, worst of all, do I choose the guys who think their shit-don't-stink and is smarter than me believing they need to condescendingly mansplain all the assignments and theories to me?
Luckily, I have David Cho as a friend. We promised to be lab partners this semester. He, thankfully, doesn't act like any of the men I mentioned. He's top of his class, has well-adjusted social skills, and seems to brush his teeth daily. We constantly compete for the highest exam scores. Plus, he already knows my compulsive need to arrange everything just so when I do my experiments.
Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Unable to wait in my car any more, I climb out and lean against my little white Corolla and take a giant swig of my iced vanilla latte. Bliss. Hopefully my car will be fixed and I'll be on my way in no time.
I check the time on my Apple watch. Out of necessity, I look at it three more times. Every glance of the clock has to be done exactly four times.
Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty.
Distracted by my watch and my counting, I don't see the yellow Jeep barreling down the road swerving across the lane right toward me. Too Fast and too close.
Catching sight of it, I yelp and jump across the hood of my car to avoid sure doom. In the process, I smash into my latte.
I roll down the hood of my car to the ground and after a pause find my way back upright. Brown liquid rolls down my white tank top.
What the hell? The yellow Jeep slams its breaks and its back-up lights flicker on as it reverses my way.
Sawyer Daniels pulls up beside me. The Sawyer Daniels. Captain of the hockey team, Greek god look alike, and total man whore. A blond girl is in his passenger seat. A puck bunny, no doubt. Between their golden blonde hair and dashing good looks, they are like Barbie and Ken. The Jeep should be pink instead of yellow.
"Are you okay? You're going to get yourself killed, standing in the middle of the road." His gruff voice rattles me.
I don't know if I've ever heard him talk in real life. Just his Instagram stories and Snapchats. Damn, he's even sexier in person.
"Are you in shock?"
Shit. I've just ben standing here with my mouth agape staring at him. Registering his words, I shake off my daze.
Placing a hand on my hip I reply, "I wasn't standing in the middle of the road. I was leaning against my car, which is far off to the side. It was you who was swerving all over the place! And driving way too fast!"
He gives me a sideways smile. His signature, and surprisingly tooth-filled, smile that surely has every girl at U of M dropping their panties for him. Running his hand through his shaggy sandy-blonde hair he replies, "Was I? Oops. Sorry." He nods his head to the girl next to him. "She was getting a little handsy."
The she in question giggles.
Ugh. I grimace at the sound. I want to smack the smile off of his face. "You think it's a joke? You could have killed me!"
He tilts his head like he is studying me for a moment. As if he's questioning how he couldn't charm someone in the female species. "I said I'm sorry. No harm no foul."
I look down at myself. My tank top is ruined and my boobs are covered in stickiness and my thin bra is soaked. "I'd hardly say no foul."
His eyes drop to my chest and lingers for a second and his cocky-ass smile appears again.
Dammit, my nipples are visibly peaked because of the cold liquid.
He unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches to his backseat and grabs a yellow ball of material. "Here, take my practice jersey."He tosses it at me.
The tight knit thick fabric weighs heavy in my hands. "It's going to be eighty degrees today, I don't want to wear your smelly hockey jersey."
Raising his hand in surrender he says, "Hey, I'm just trying to make amends here." He eyes my flat tire. "How about I help you with that?"
Barbie surveys me under her false eyelashes. Who has time to mess around with eyelash glue and contouring this early in the day?
I roll my eyes. "I'm fine."
"You sure?" Sawyer asks. "You look like you could use a little help."
"I don't need help from the likes of you. Just watch the road when you're driving."
"Come on Sawyer, let's go," Barbie says.
I think she might be an Alpha Iota. Or A.I. for artificial intelligence as my sorority likes to call them. Seeing as they all look and act like robots.
Sweeping his eyes over me one last time, he says, "Fine. Suit yourself, Kitty." His Jeep peels off.
*~~*
Shoving my way around the packed hallway, I barge into my chem lab forty-five minutes late. Everyone looks up at me as I enter. I give a half smile slash half grimace.
"Ms. Santos, there you are. I wondered when you'd show up. You're late."
"Sorry, Dr. Saunders. Car trouble." I take a seat at the last lab station available, much to my dismay, located in the far back.
"See that it doesn't happen again," she replies.
"Yes ma'am."
"As I was saying, make sure you do a thorough inventory of everything in your lab station and make sure you check out anything you need." She rattles on about lab basics and safety as she sweeps around the room. Everyone in this class has heard it all a ton of times before. She stops by me. "We already chose lab partners, Ms. Santos."
I snap my head to David Cho. His eyes widen and he mouths 'sorry' to me.
"There is one more student enrolled who hasn't showed up yet. When he arrives he can be your partner."
I cringe. Great.
Dr. Saunders leans in close to me and whispers, "You're the only woman in this class, and as another female scientist, I expect you to show these men what we are made of."
I nod.
She is a bad-ass woman and made ground breaking research in chemistry and had to overcome bias because of her gender. She is also my mentor. Her eyes roll over me. "I didn't take you to be a hockey fan, Piper."
I frown. Much to my dismay, I did throw on the damn jersey over my ruined tank top. I had no other choice unless I wanted to show all the guys in the class my boobs. "I'm not. Unfortunate result of my car trouble today."
The jersey engulfs me and goes almost to my knees of my skinny jeans. I couldn't help but notice the delicious masculine smell. I breathe it in again, and three more times after that.
Setting up my station, I arrange all the equipment in alphabetical order. It always needs to be in alphabetical order. I count everything. At least I'm quick, because I'll need to recount it three more times.
While obsessing over the lab equipment, the classroom door slams open. My stomach sinks. Who will my lab partner be?
Sawyer freakin' Daniels saunters in. WTF? Twice in one day? He must be in the wrong class. Jocks don't take three hundred level science classes. At least I don't think, this is my first one.
"Mr. Daniels. So happy you were able to finally grace us with your presence."
"I'm sure you are all happy I've arrived," he replies with a smirk.
"I'll have to ask Dr. Scardovian exactly how you defy physics and are able to walk upright with that big head of yours. You're late Sawyer. Bad way to start off the year. I'm sure you don't want to fail this class a second time."
"No ma'am. I apologize. I had car troubles."
"Seems to be a popular one today." I watch the whole exchange between them. Losing track of my counting. Which means I'll have to start all over again. "Your lab partner will be Piper." She points to me.
Oh shit. I didn't put two and two together as they were talking. Sawyer Freakin' Daniels is going to be my lab partner.
His eyes glide to me and recognition sets in before he sports a shit-eating grin. Pacing to me he sits down at the chair next to me. "Hello Kitty. Nice shirt."
I ignore the fact that this close, he's even more sexy. I really hoped in this proximity I'd find some kind of imperfection—smelly breath, zit filled skin, anything—but nope. Total opposite, he looks better.
"Don't look so smug. I was desperate. White shirt and liquid don't exactly go well together. And Kitty? What is that, some term of endearment you use with your puck bunnies?"
He scans the room. "Yes, if you came in here with that shirt, half the class would be needing their inhalers to breathe. I doubt most of the guys in here have ever seen tits in real life."
His eyes linger on my chest as if he can see my boobs through the jersey. I purse my lips.
"Don't look so angry about it. You know how many girls in this school would love to be seen walking around the school in my jersey?"
"Probably all the girls on campus who have self-esteem issues," I reply.
He slouches in the lab chair like he's ready to settle in to watch a movie and not take a crazy intense chemistry class that has an eighty-percent fail rate. "And I thought kitty was pretty obvious."
I raise a brow. "Why?"
"Yeah. You know, because you look like one."
"I do?"
His ovary-melting smile appears on his face and he tugs a strand of hair in my pony tail. My whole body clenches at his proximity. "Yeah, pitch black hair, bright yellow-green eyes, and a feisty attitude."
Is he flirting with me? Probably trying to get in my pants. He's notorious. I straighten. "Well my name is Piper, and this class is going to be hard. Really hard. You better pull your weight."
"Got it, boss."
"I mean it Sawyer. Don't fuck me over."
Placing an elbow on the lab desk, he rests his chin on his hand and leans in close. "That's not the type of fucking I'm known for."
My stomach flips at his words. I might like to do the type of fucking with him he's talking about. No! Focus. Don't let the misogynist man-slut bat his eyes at you. I need a high grade in this class. This is one of the classes grad schools will look at. If I want to go to Harvard med school I need an A.
I exhale sharply. "Let's just get to work."