You win

Sofia - see you sunday*

I don't know why I haven't told Jordan about Stephan's insulting proposition; to say the least, maybe it is because I'm subconsciously contemplating it: funds, media, attention, respect... That's the funny thing I'd be giving away. All I can think about is how ashamed I'd feel. Using a man to get a higher step on the latter, knowing I couldn't do it myself, I'd be disappointing Coach Smitty, any female athlete ever, myself. So why am I not telling Jordan?

"Are you alright there?" Jordan's voice yells over the loud bar chatter and the booming music. It's packed for a Friday night, more than usual. If there's one thing I like more than soccer and equal opportunity, it's got to be JAB, the off-campus bar where I'm blessed to see Peter Marcus, UFN's music prodigy.

Speaking of, I watch as he walks in a loose short-sleeved black button-up overtop of a white t-shirt paired with cargo pants and Converse.

"He's coming over," Jordan shoots me wide eyes before disappearing into the jumble of people. Before I can protest, she's gone, and I'm joined by Peter Marcus beside me.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asks, his sandy brown eyes meeting mine.

"Why not." I smile, and he sits down beside me.

We talk for a while, and the conversation always flows easily with Peter. I think it is because I allow it, he's not intimidating, and he doesn't scream macho man or "Im hot and I know it." I mean, I'm sure he knows he's attractive; the many artsy, blue-haired, wolf-cut girls in his classes are constantly chasing him. That's why I like us—two mismatched socks that somehow go together. I'm pretty sure he's never played a competitive sport in his life; his slim yet somehow muscular body is a testament to that.

The only reason we met and started this silent game of cat and mouse was an honest accident. I was passing back and forth on campus with Jordan, and her phenomenal accuracy long-shot it past me and knocked his guitar out of his hand while he was headed to class. I offered him multiple apologies, and he assured me it was fine, there being no damage done, but I offered him a coffee. That coffee led us to talk, leading us here.

We've never taken the next step, haven't been on any dates, hell, sometimes we don't even speak, sometimes it's a quick nod of acknowledgement across campus, parties in the hallway if anything were friends, but I feel like the line is blurring. I can sense his want for the next step, and yet I can't find it in me to be ready for that completely. I like him, I do; all I've wanted was for us to be a thing. He seems like he'd be a good boyfriend, morally and physically, and he checks all the boxes.

"Sofia." His voice catches me out of my thoughts, and his eyes are a bit more intense. He rubs his thumb over the side of his pointer finger while his hand is balled up in a fist. Something I've noticed he's done before performing. He's nervous; shit. Panic courses through my body, like watching the opposing team in scoring position.

"I was wondering-," He starts.

"I'm sorry, I'm feeling light-headed. Can we go outside?"

"Of course," I don't miss the concerned look on his face, and it almost makes me feel guilty. He leads me outside and under the green-illuminated JAB sign. The cool air tickles my skin, and I regret the choice of a spaghetti strap dress, although it reaches my ankles.

He's about to speak up when I cut him off. "You look good."

"Thanks; you always look good, Sofia." He says my name softly, and I don't get what I was worried about. Well, I do, but he wouldn't do that to me; he's a good one, a nice guy, and a music prodigy, for Christ's sake.

"I'm performing at Laxton Hall Sunday if you want to stop by." He runs his long fingers through his perfectly fluffy middle part, and I can't help but want to run my fingers through it too.

"I've got a late practice, but I'm sure I could peek my head in." He smiles. God, his smile and his smile lines are attractive; his unique features take me aback. His light tan and chestnut hair match accordingly, and his light brown eyes glisten under the green light. Although he's half Korean, it's not that noticeable; his Caucasian features are more prominent, but I can't stop staring at his face; his features seamlessly fit together, and under all that, he's still a great guy.

"Is there something on my face?" He asks, sucking his bottom lip in momentarily.

"No, sorry." I feel my cheeks heat up. I hate how I am with guys I like; I get all gitty and nervous. I pull him closer, making a bold move on my behalf. His hand fixes on my waist, gently pulling me into him, and his face is dangerously close to mine. I can smell the cinnamon gum he must've chewed earlier, and it just suits him completely.

His fingers gently graze my forehead as he removes some hair strands from my face. I place my hands around his neck as he leans down to better match my height. Next thing, his lips are attached to mine, moving in a smooth rhythm; he doesn't use his tongue but instead pulls me in closer by my waist.

"Ew, scuze" I hear a quiet scoff, and we break apart to see Alix Russell. She stands in her self-appointed righteousness, her long platinum hair draped over her shoulders.

"you're blocking the door," She waves her long nails around, squinting her blue, smokey eyes and flashing a phony smile.

"Right, uh, sorry." Peter backs away, his hand playing at the back of his neck, and we allow her to walk through.

"I'm going to get going; I want to get some extra practice in for Sunday. Will I see you there?" His hands are now shoved into his pockets as if recovering from how they were pressing on me.

"Yeah, of course."

"Want me to walk you to your dorm?" He asks and I stare at him, trying to read his reaction. Did he not want to kiss me? Is he just nervous?

"No, it's okay. I'm going to head out with Jordan." I smile.

"See you Sunday."

"Yeah, Sunday."

A/N: Something tells me something else will happen instead...

Peter Marcus