Free The Boyfriend List by R.S. Novelle, Renee Novelle Page A

the chance someone would hear her, and that would just complicate
matters since she was pretty certain the general student population wasn’t
allowed to just randomly roam the building.
    From
the corner of her eye, Reagan spotted a row of tall glass cases that displayed
trophies, plaques and flags. Realizing this was as good a place to start as
any, despite her obvious concerns, she initiated objective two: confirm
athletic participation. Stepping across the foyer, careful not to let her shoes
squeak too much, she quickly passed over most of the display until her eyes
settled on a picture of the men’s soccer team. The faces were small, but she
squinted and scanned the figures looking for any sign of Brett.
    And
just as her eyes landed on him, she heard a sound that nearly made her jump out
of her skin...
    “May
I help you?”
    It
was a woman’s voice - mature in stature, matronly in warmth. And yet without
even turning around, Reagan immediately knew this person would be the
administrative type in the worst possible way. A quick glance into the
reflection of the glass had her groaning internally that her suspicions looked
to be correct. An authoritative rule follower with her tight bun and pinched
expression, it would probably take some quick thinking to get around this and
get on to objective three... and Reagan had never really been one for quick
thinking like that.
    Turning
slowly around, she looked up into a face that was just as stern as the voice
had been. A quick and fleeting thought passed through her head that she hadn’t
heard the woman’s shoes squeak across the floor, how had she managed that?
    “Um,
well yes. Maybe.” She grimaced at the awkward stammering of words that fell out
of her mouth, and wished to the communication gods that she knew what to say
next.
    The
woman apparently sensed her hesitant delay, and gave her a little nudge to get
the conversation flowing. “Are you an athlete?” Apparently she had no interest
in hiding the severe assessment she was giving Reagan as her steely eyes
traveled up and down Reagan’s body, no doubt trying to gauge for herself if the
person standing in front of her was even fit enough to be there. The gesture
only served to make Reagan unnecessarily aware of her soft curves. While she
could never be considered overweight, she also could never pass as an athlete,
and until now had been content falling anywhere on the spectrum between the two.
But the way this woman was looking at her now made her wish that maybe once or
twice she’d followed Petra’s lead and ordered a salad instead of a burger. And
she hated feeling like that.
    “No?”
She finally replied, insecurity filling her voice.
    Ms. Administrative
Woman responded with a low sound in her throat as if to say ‘I thought not’. “Only
student athletes are permitted here.” The smile that accompanied her words was as
warm as it was condescending, and that flustered Reagan even more.
    “Oh.
Well, I was just, um... I was here to...” Note
to self, Reagan thought, devise
cleverly thought out lies before embarking on stupid, self-serving scheme next
time.
    “Are
you from the paper?”
    “Paper?”
Reagan thought she might see a glimmer of opportunity after all, which she fully
intended to capitalize on if at all possible.
    “The
school newspaper, I mean. Are you the journalist they sent to do the interview?”
    “Yes.”
Reagan replied quickly without even thinking about what she was confirming. She
was just glad for the opportunity to have something positive to say. Then, as
the thought had simmered for a few seconds, she smiled wickedly and settled
into the role. “Yes, I am.” She’d found her window of opportunity, and could
proceed to objective three unhindered – gather informative details.
    The
woman seemed to accept her in this role, and offered a large smile as she
gestured with her hand to follow. “Come this way.”
    Before
she’d fully understood what she’d committed to, Reagan