Is Bridgeport big enough for Kae, Robyn, Alex and Jasmine? They're all beautiful, captivating, and a little bit crazy... but there can be only one It Girl.
[ Based on the It Girl series by Cecily Von Ziegesar ]
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Jasmine poked her head out of her dorm room after a two-hour-long, post-tennis practice nap that stretched all the way through dinner. It was already dark outside and the entire first floor was strangely deserted. The silence was eerie, and it felt almost as though there'd been a nuke scare and she was the only one on campus not hiding in the bomb shelter. What an excellent opportunity to summon Rakim. Just the thought of him, sitting across campus, staring out of his bedroom window, waiting to catch a glimpse of a little flame, sent shivers down her spine.
Her dorm room window faced the opposite direction, so Jasmine made her way to the bathroom, propping open one of the heavy, opaque glass windows. She flicked on Rakim's Zippo, watching the flame shine through the night air once, twice, three times. Her fingers traced Rakim's engraved initials.
Not even three minutes had passed—barely enough time for Jasmine to tweeze out some stray eyebrow hairs in the mirror—before she saw an all-black-clad figure veer off the sidewalk and over to the side of Waverly. He pressed his back to the brick wall and slowly slid along it, his head darting from side to side as he scoped out the scene.
"Hey," a voice called from below.
"Shh!" Jasmine hissed, sticking her head out the window. Rakim reached up and grabbed her hand, anchoring his feet against the brick outside wall and pulling himself up through the window. He stumbled awkwardly to his feet.
"This looks familiar." His eyes darted around the bathroom—no doubt he was remembering that this was the very place they'd first hooked up. "I think I was in here in a dream once," he said jokingly.
"Maybe you were." Jasmine leaned backward against a sink and noticed that Rakim was wearing a shell necklace, the kind a girlfriend would buy when she was on vacation. Jasmine, narrowed her eyes. Obviously, she wanted Rakim to have had girlfriends before—she didn't want to have to train him completely—but that didn't mean she wanted to see remnants of them hanging off him.
"Nah, it couldn't have been a dream." He glanced over his shoulder at Jasmine and his dark eyes called her toward him. She wanted him to come to her, but she couldn't resist. "You always wake up from them."
Jasmine stepped away from the sink, her bare feet touching the cold tile floor of the shower. She pulled the curtain closed behind her and ran one hand across Rakim's chest. She pushed him against the stall wall and kissed him like she hadn't seen him in months, though in reality it had been about three hours.
"Did you miss me?" she teased, in between kisses. His hands were gripping her sides, his fingers playing with the bottom of her t-shirt, begging to be allowed to go underneath.
Rakim growled and his hands touched Jasmine's bare skin. She shuddered a little, as they crept oh-so-slowly up her ribs, and just as she was about to slap them away—he couldn't go there without asking permission, of course—the bathroom door rattled open with a loud clang. They pulled their lips apart and their eyes widened in surprise, but Rakim didn't take his hands off of Jasmine's body.
