He raises his unibrow. Maybe I should just offer to tweeze that thing. Forget it, how rude would that be?
“What kind of car?” he asks.
This isn’t going to help the spoiled image. “BMW convertible.”
“You have a BMW convertible? Layla, why didn’t you bring it to school?”
“I do have it at school.”
His chair slips backward, but he grabs hold of the desk before he falls and splits open his head. “What? Why have I never seen it?”
“I don’t like to drive.”
“Why do you have a car, then?”
“I don’t know. My parents wanted me to have one.”
“For what? Didn’t you live in Manhattan?”
“Yeah, but I needed to get around. You know. To the Hamptons.” I think I should just shut up.
“Do you think your parents would mind paying for my next semester’s tuition?” He laughs.
Truth is, they probably wouldn’t care. Or notice. “I’ll ask.”
“Wanna get married? I could definitely use a rich wife.”
Married? I can’t even imagine Jamie as a dating contender. He’s too…unambitious. I prefer the serious guy to the clown. “Maybe.”
“I’m no Bradley Green, am I?”
Sigh. Perfect Bradley Green. “It’s not like Bradley even knows I’m alive. I’ll have to wait for him to come to school here, if he gets in, and if he decides to come.”
We laugh and I decide this is an ideal opportunity to discuss his potential relationship with Kimmy. “Anything new with you and Kimmy?” I ask. “Is she back yet?” Over the weekend, I analyzed the Kimmy situation, and I think falling for Jamie would be a far better strategy for her. First of all, Russ is unavailable. Second, Russ doesn’t strike me as such a catch. He’s nerdy, stoned half the day, and Kimmy needs someone with more personality. Like Jamie.
“I stopped by her room at around six, but she seemed preoccupied and didn’t ask me in.” He shakes his head with dismay. “I think it’s time I give up on her.”
“I think you should keep at it. But for now, could you please stop leaning back in that chair? You’re making me nervous.”
He grins, and slams his chair back on all fours.
“That’s better.” I don’t see why she won’t go for Jamie. She hooked up with him once, so she must feel a smidgen of attraction for him. Russ isn’t going to dump Sharon, and at some point Kimmy will have to accept that and move on.
“I wonder if something’s going on with her and Russ,” he says, as if reading my mind.
I look back at my notes and shrug. Am I awful for encouraging him to pursue her, when I know that Russ and Kimmy hooked up after the spin-the-bottle game? At least they haven’t “sealed the deal” yet, so maybe there’s hope.
“Maybe he dumped his girlfriend over Thanksgiving,” he says. “Could be Black Monday for Russ.”
Never heard that one. “Black Monday?”
“The day after Thanksgiving, when everyone comes back to school broken up.”
I doubt it. “We should get to work,” I say, flipping through my notebook. So much work to do before tomorrow! “Why don’t we work for thirty minutes and then take a walk around the floor to stretch?”
“Or maybe you’ll take me out for a spin in your BMW. Some of us only have a Hyundai Excel in the parking lot, you know.”
Matthews spends the morning discussing group interaction patterns, specifically conflict management, negotiations, giving feedback and sharing information.
I’m wondering what kind of information Russ and Kimmy aren’t sharing with their group. They’re both not here. Kimmy really shouldn’t be missing classes when she’s desperately trying to improve her grades. Where is she? She should not be skipping lectures so close to exams.
They both waltz in for Accounting. They walk in separately, slyly, and Russ finds a seat in the back beside Nick and Jamie. Kimmy sits beside me. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair tied back in a high ponytail. She looks like she’s desperately attempting not to look happy. “Good morning,” she sings.
This scenario can’t be good for my set-Jamie-up-with-Kimmy plan. Perhaps I was wrong-maybe Russ did break up with Sharon. “Good morning,” I say. “How was your long weekend?”
“Horrible,” she says. And then smiles. “But all is better now.”
I have a bad feeling about her version of better. “Why? Is it Black Monday? Did he dump her?”
Her face clouds over. “I don’t think so.”
Then what’s she so gleeful about? “What, then?”
She raises her well-plucked eyebrow suggestively. “You know.”
Oh, no. They sealed the deal! “You slept with him?”
She shushes me with her hand.
“But what about his girlfriend?”
She rolls her eyes. “I told you, I don’t know anything more about that.”
How could she sleep with him without knowing? Isn’t it driving her crazy? It’s driving me crazy. “Did you at least ask him?”
“Can we not talk about this here?” she hisses.
Well, excuse me!
kimmy studies it up at the library
Tuesday, December 9, 11:55 p.m.
At five to twelve, I slam shut my Stats textbook and stand up. Only a few of us are still at the library. Namely, me, Layla and Jamie. I’ve been reading for the past half hour, and for the half hour before that, Layla and Jamie were tutoring me. (Turns out Layla got the highest mark in the Block on the Stats midterm. Yeah, the one she said she failed.) We only took a few breaks-one for a stroll around the room and another for massage train. A massage train is something Layla used to do at her sorority house. You sit in a line and massage the person in front of you for three minutes. Then the person at the front moves to the back. I started off in the middle. I massaged Layla, and Jamie massaged me. Then I moved to the head of the train, and Layla massaged Jamie. He has pretty good hands. Too bad I didn’t ask for a full-body massage the night we hooked up.
“You don’t got to go home, but you got to get the hell out of here,” Jamie announces. I’m exhausted. After class I went to a case interview session. Jared, the Block president, has organized a three-hour case session once a week until Christmas, to prepare us for job interviews. As if we have nothing else to do. Surprisingly, though, I’m pretty good at solving the estimation cases, when they ask you something you couldn’t possibly know, like how many buses are in America, to see how you would get at the problem. Who knew? Now if only I could finish my cover letters and résumés, then maybe I could actually get to display my recently discovered talent.
But at the moment I have other things to think about. The highlight of the night-private time with Russ. Most people come to the library because they want to ace their exams; I come because I need to keep Russ out of my bed until after he’s spoken with Sharon. This was my first new strategy, and it’s been working. We used to start fooling around at ten, and go until I evicted myself for his Sharon nightly phone call. Now that I’m at the library until twelve, there’s no pending end for our time together.
My second new strategy was to turn my bed into a sex temple, keeping it smelling clean and girly. I bought red satin sheets and pillowcases to match my duvet, making it impossible for him to even consider wanting to leave.
He can stay all night, and does.
He’ll have to break up with Sharon eventually. He can’t keep up this deception much longer. No, he’s going to dump her, soon. Definitely.
When we reach the Zoo, I immediately start preparing. I shower, spritz on my perfume and change into one of my new silk negligees (bought during the satin-sheet-shopping spree).
It’s twelve-thirty, and everything is ready for Russ. I’m lying on my silky bed, waiting.
Soft music playing? Check.
Condom box tucked discreetly under bed? Check. Not that I care so much about the condoms, since I’m on the pill, but I know it’s the right thing to do. Actually, he’s the one who insists on condoms. Maybe he’s afraid I’ll pass his precious girlfriend something unmentionable.