Even The Playing Field | BOOK #1 IN THE PSU SERIES

Eleven

Naomi Black

What was I even thinking?

I wasn't thinking and that is the problem.

"So what flavor are you getting? My favorite is mint chocolate chip. I'm a big mint choco fan." He smiled while he looked at me with one hand on the wheel.

I can't deny Matti Williams was hot as fuck and any other girl in my position would melt.

But

He's the Matti Williams that I know, not the one that they do.

I know that he's condescending, I know that he's only pleasant to girls when it involves back arching. When it involves grinding and action- I know. But did he have a kind bone in his body for anyone other than himself? Absolutely not.

However, everyone views him as the lord and savior of Penn State.

"I like vanilla," I say.

His nose crinkles in distaste. "Out of all flavors, you're picking the untouched one and the blandest? Didn't peg you for that kind of girl Black." He shakes his head and looks back at the wet road.

"Oh really? What kind of girl did you peg me for?" I snip back.

What is that even supposed to mean?

"Hey. Put the claws away. I didn't mean it in a bad way. You just seem more strawberry." He says.

I don't respond.

And he sighs because it gets quiet.

Quiet until he turned on music.

"What song do you like shortcake? You like rap? Country? Pop? I can do whatever you throw at me! Just shout out a request." He looks at me with his phone in his hand.

I stay quiet and look out the window.

I do want to reply. I just don't want to. He's nothing but a jerk, why do I want to even talk to him?

"Okay, I get it you like way too many songs to pick one. I got you, girl!" He nods, presses a few buttons on his phone and the familiar tune starts playing.

"I was riding shotgun with my hair undone in the front seat of his car

He's got one hand on the steering wheel, the other on my heart!" Matti starts singing his heart out.

I crack a smile.

"Hey, there's that smile! You know you wanna sing it Black!" I laugh and shake my head.

"Our song is the slamming screen door

Sneakin' out late, tapping on your window

When we're on the phone and you talk real slow