We’re not.

Or, I’m not anyway. I have no intention of being had. The pickup attempts, which I actually sort of love, will never be good enough. I mean if things were different, I probably would have pulled him over the register the first time we spoke. Being with Joel would be fun and crazy hot, I’m sure. But things aren’t different. I’m not the kind of girl that Joel Moreno dates, if he seriously dated at all. Casual seems to be all he’s interested in and my life is scheduled, routine, and doesn’t exactly lend itself to quickies in the stock room.

But for two minutes every Thursday, I get to pretend I’m just a regular college girl flirting with the most popular guy on campus. And I’d be lying if I said I don’t also indulge in a little harmless daydreaming about what those quickies in stock rooms, bathrooms, alleyways (hey, they’re fantasy) might be like.

I’m not sure why he keeps coming back when I’ve given him no indication I’m going to change my mind, but I think at this point he just wants to prove he can have any woman he wants. He’s clearly not used to rejection.

He probably thinks I’m making this a challenge for sport’s sake, but if he really stepped back and thought about it, he’d realize that he doesn’t even really want me to say yes. Maybe he’s already figured that out. He never pushes – never asks me twice or calls me out on my lame excuses. Subconsciously, I think he looks forward to me shooting him down every week.

I’m quite possibly the last loosely hanging thread that holds his ego in check. The next time he’s banging some lucky girl he’s going to do so with a satisfaction that couldn’t be found if he didn’t have my weekly ‘no’ to ground him to the possibility of rejection. When you win all the time, the game isn’t fun. I’m the pesky loss each week that makes him work harder and appreciate the wins all that much more.

My legacy at Valley U may very well be the motivation that urged Joel Moreno to win over every other girl on campus. You’re welcome, ladies.

With a nod, he hands over his credit card for the coffee. I take my time, drawing out the process to delay his departure.

“See ya next week.”

As he walks away, I finally take him in – every gorgeous inch – and I let myself believe it’s all real. That he really did ask me out hoping I’d say yes and that he’s going to spend the next six days mulling over how to break me down. I want him to fantasize about me the same way I fantasize about him. That’s all he can ever be. All I can be to him. I’m okay with that. Fantasy is almost always better than reality and Joel Moreno is my perfect fantasy. Why mess with that?