Night Owls Read Online Free PDF Page B

hot girls on buses, and that’s messing up both my routine and my deep loathing of
public transportation.”
    Was he really saying this? Ignore! Ignore! “I asked Will about you because I wanted to find out if you were really a criminal,” I argued a little too loudly. A student exiting the
building gave us a curious look. “I have to go. I’m running late.”
    I tried to move around him, but he blocked me. “I’m a low-level criminal at best. Barely even a reprobate. And I’ve never been caught, so if a tree falls in the forest, does it
really make a sound?”
    “Don’t make me laugh. I’ve got an important meeting.”
    He ducked his head to catch my eyes. “If I make you laugh, will you skip it and go have dinner with me?”
    Whoa. Was that a date request? “Look, this is serious. I’m going to be late.”
    He held up his hands in surrender. “Please, just tell me your name. An email address, phone number—something. Come on, Sad Girl. All old Willy could tell me was that you have a
sister and that your mom’s a cleaning woman at the hospital.”
    “Brother and nurse,” I corrected, stifling a laugh. “He told me you’re a monk and that you have a ‘lady friend’ who works here.”
    Jack laughed and said, “Oh, that Willy.” Then he abruptly went quiet.
    “Do you?” I pressed, silently saying the end of the question in my head: . . .
have a girlfriend?
    “Though it’s true that I do visit a female person, other wise known as a ‘lady,’ here, and we are, indeed, friends, she would probably kick me in the balls if I ever
called her my ‘lady friend.’ Besides, I’m a monk, apparently.”
    Hmph.
Monk, my ass. The only guys at school who were this particular combination of per sis tent and beautiful were players. I backed up and pointed to my wrist. “Seriously have
to go.”
    “Give me something,
please
. Don’t make me wait out here in the cold stalking you like a creeper.”
    I took a few more backward steps and opened the door, heart racing. “
Body-O-Rama.
It’s an anatomy illustration blog. I’m one of the contributing artists. If you can
pick my art out of the lineup, you’ll find my contact info there, and you can stalk me online.”
    He grinned and pulled his leather jacket closed as the wind picked up. “Challenge accepted.”

5
    MY MEETING WITH DR. SHERIDAN WAS STRANGELY UNSATISFYING. Maybe that’s because I was still holding a grudge about her leaving me hanging at our
first meeting, or maybe it’s because I spent the entire ten puny minutes she gave me struggling to keep Jack out of my thoughts.
    This wasn’t me. At all. I’m the serious girl with straight As. Well, except for the Bs in calculus and that C in freshman PE, which I earned for my “bad attitude” toward
Mallory Letson—who happened to be head of the varsity pep squad and Coach’s favorite. Never mind that she was talking crap about Heath, who was a senior that year. (For the record, I
think Mallory was behind the whole Morticia thing.)
    Still.
    All Dr. Cold-as-Ice Sheridan said was that my portfolio showed “remarkable talent,” and after questioning why I wanted to be a medical illustrator, she just went on to explain that
the university was one of the top medical schools in the country and had (standards and practices) or (board members’ expectations) or (insurance regulations) to uphold. And that their actual
students came first. She promised to consider my request and run it by her colleagues and students. She said she’d have an answer in a week or two.
    In a week or two, the summer would be half over and I’d barely have time enough to come up with something else for the student art contest. But what could I do, argue with someone who was
doing me a favor? She gave me her business card, so at least I had her email address. I wasted no time writing her the cheesiest, most polite thank-you email in the history of sucking up.
    After that, I’m ashamed to say that I spent my