Free Stars (Penmore #1) by Malorie Verdant Page A

be a one-time-only thing. Although, with all the fantasies I have been having about Stars, I probably wouldn’t give her the ‘one time only’ spiel.
    I keep imagining her silky brown curls spread over the leather seats of my car, her amber eyes looking up at me as her head rests on the pillows of my bed and her legs wrapped in those tight jeans around my waist as we lean against the library stacks. Not that I’m sure she wants more than one time. She did let me kiss her hand in class, smiled at me then walked out. I also think I heard her whisper, “Bye, Grayson,” but other than that, she hasn’t said anything to let me know she’s interested.
    She is the first girl I can’t get out of my head. Sure, last lesson I was certain she had been waiting for me, but Marissa said if she hadn’t said anything concrete then Parker might not be into me. Apparently, Maris had read a book all about how to tell if someone isn’t interested. And if someone wants you, they do whatever it takes to show you how much.
    Shit, only chicks would read a book about how to tell if someone didn’t like you.
    Marissa suggested that the next time I see Stars, I bring coffee and try to ask her questions about herself, like where she’s from and what her major is, to get to know her. Show her I’m hooked on her. So here I am, skipping my first classes to lean against the sandstone exterior of Reed Hall with coffee, waiting to ask Parker about her major and her life.
    Marissa went on and on about how I had to actually listen to Parker’s responses, and that some guy she was interested in never listened to her. To be honest, she started ranting and I completely blocked her out. I started picturing the new brunette heroine with golden eyes I had been writing in all my stories. I was completely inspired and couldn’t wait to have another opportunity to be near her.
    PARKER
    If Tuesdays are my favorite days for classes, Fridays are my least favorite. Sure, Reed Hall is pretty and the teacher can be amusing. But my self-absorbed, pretentious classmates suck ass. Or at least the ones in front of me do. I am stuck sitting right behind nearly the entire cheerleader squad. And unlike Elle Woods, none of these plastic Barbies are cute and witty and demonstrate their hidden intelligence through their stimulating conversations. I really hate when bad stereotypes have living representatives.
    Every Friday, like clockwork, they talk about their last manicure, current hairstyle and their upcoming weekend plans—or, more accurately, whom they think might sleep with the Grayson Waters. “So, he has been with Tiffany, Sarah, Ashley and Britney this month alone. He is such a dick. He slept with me last semester and Nicole. It’s like he plans to work his way through our entire team. If Tiffany says one more word about her awesome experience, I’m pretty sure Ash is going to hit her. He is causing problems with our solidarity.”
    “That’s why he’s so hot though, because he’s such a bad boy. I really hope he comes to Dylan’s frat party. ”
    “Have you heard that he tells all the girls he sleeps with that he only does one-night stands?”
    “And he never goes to Lucky’s, so you never have to worry that he’ll have a limp dick from alcohol.”
    I can’t help but roll my eyes at their ridiculous chatter. I pull out my iPhone and ear buds and spend the rest of the lecture listening to Taylor Swift’s “You Belong With Me”. I love the song, but mostly I listen to it out of habit. I’m not so delusional that I believe that Grayson really belongs with me, even if I did occasionally daydream about the future we could share. All through high school, when I would over hear the girls talking all about Grayson, like they knew him and how he was a bad boy they would change, I would pop in my ear buds and hum along with Taylor Swift.
    Thinking about how wrong all the girls he went on dates with were for him and how little they really knew. Grayson