Plum Girl (Romance) Read Online Free PDF

now they'd gone out for exactly one after-work excursion (throughout which, he'd pictured her lying naked on their tabletop). Fine, so she was just an acquaintance. No big deal.
    So why did he still feel so frustrated? True, there was that kind of frustrated playing a part—he hadn't been involved with anyone for a while. But mostly what he felt was disappointed. By the way Lonnie reacted tonight, it was pretty clear that the idea of a more-than-platonic relationship with him left her cold. That's that, he thought, because now he had his answer.
    * * *
    Lonnie lay awake staring at the ceiling, listening to Peach's even breathing across the studio apartment. Peach's bed was shielded by an oak-and-canvas partition screen, and there were tiny, iridescent moons hanging from the ceiling above her. Lonnie rolled over to her side and let the thickness of her mattress and the softness of her puffy cream comforter relax her. She sighed, thought about what happened, and suddenly felt relaxed all over again.
    Damn it! Why had she acted like such an ass? She knew her behavior at Rattlesnake hadn't seemed logical. How could she explain to Dominick that her luck with men was never great, and her last serious relationship had left her utterly crushed and disillusioned? Her only serious relationship, if one wanted to be technical. And how could she tell him that now she was involved with someone already... someone who invoked far less confusing feelings in her?
    Lifting up, she made a futile attempt to fluff her feather pillow before setting her head back down. She closed her eyes and thought about her track record with the antithetical—that is to say, opposite— sex.
    Her only real date in high school was her senior prom. She'd gone with a boy from her calculus class who had seemed perfectly nice in a dull, harmless sort of a way. That is, until he'd gotten drunk at the pre-party, passed out, and missed the whole dance entirely. Then in college she'd barely dated, finding most of her male classmates crass, obnoxious, and obsessed with baseball hats. When she'd met Eric Yagher during her sophomore year, she couldn't help but like him. Here was a guy who actually said "please" and "thank you" (albeit, it was usually when he was asking to copy her Spanish homework). And here was a guy who actually asked "busy day?" (granted, it was inevitably followed up by: "feel like dog sitting?"). And he was gorgeous, not that it was any excuse. Whatever the reasons, Lonnie had invested all her romantic energy in him because she couldn't see him for the self-centered, pretty boy that he was.
    Until the winter formal. She'd planned to ask Eric, acting on a tip that he didn't already have a date. She'd practiced the phone call a million times in front of the bathroom mirror, so there was really no excuse for what happened. On the first phone call, she choked and told him she was just calling to ask what day their Spanish exam was scheduled. On the second call, she paused, then told him she'd accidentally called his number, and hung up. On the third call, she started, "Would you happen to have"—then quickly added—"the weather forecast for tomorrow? I didn't know if I should plan on rain." Plan on rain? She wanted to die. Finally, on the fourth call, determined and a little delirious at that point, she blurted: "Eric, do you have a date for the formal?"
    "Yes, I do," he'd said bluntly and unapologetically. "I'm taking a girl from Syracuse I've been seeing."
    She hadn't even known he'd been seeing anyone. But then again, why would she? They were hardly tight, despite her lust-based delusions. Immediately, she started scrapping to save face. "Oh, great!" she yelped a couple pitches too high to be believable. "That's terrific! Well, I was just curious, but that's great!"
    Before she could finish her congratulatory squealing over the fact that he had a date, Eric demanded, "Is this what you've been trying to ask me for the past two days?" It was one of the