For a minute, I’m sure I misheard her. On James? Simone? Is she blind and deaf? She’s so, I dunno, whimsical and sweet. He’s so . . . crazy and kind of ghetto.

Jasmine throws her magazine down and leaps up. “Oh my God! You do not!” She bounds across the room and plops herself down on my bed. My psychology book bounces off and onto the floor, totally forgotten in light of this latest development.

“Wait, hold on,” I say. “James? You mean, as in our housemate James?” Is it possible she’s talking about another James, someone she’s met on campus? And if so, how is she making non–cast member friends so quickly? We’ve been here almost three weeks, and not one person has made an effort to be friends with me.

“Yeah,” she says, looking down at her hands.

“Why?” Jasmine asks gleefully.

“Jasmine!” I say.

“What? Like you’re not thinking it?”

I don’t say anything, and she gives me a satisfied look.

“I don’t know, it’s like . . .” She trails off and stares into space for a minute, then plays with her hands nervously. “Last night we ran into each other in the dining hall, and he was just being really sweet, you know? Asking me if I wanted him to get me anything.”

Jasmine raises her eyebrows and shoots me a disbelieving look. I can tell we’re both thinking the same thing. Getting someone a soda does not a crush make.

“And,” Simone says quickly. “He’s really smart. Did you know that he’s premed?”

James is premed? Wow. I still can’t figure out what I want to do with my life and James is premed? Note to self: Figure out life plan immediately. “Plus I think he’s really hot,” she says. It sounds kind of off coming from her, like she shouldn’t be using the word “hot.” And definitely not while describing James. Although I suppose he is kind of cute, if you’re into that whole ghetto fabulous thing.

“Well, whatever,” Jasmine says, waving off Simone’s explanations. “This is so exciting! Are you going to tell him?”

“Tell him?” Simone looks appalled. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Jasmine asks. “We can set up a whole seduction thing. Candles, wine . . . ooh, I have this amazing red skirt you can borrow.” She tilts her head to the side and studies Simone thoughtfully. “How do you feel about fishnets?”

Simone looks like she’s going to throw up.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“It’s just that I’ve never really done anything like that before.”

“Like what?” Jasmine asks.

“Told a guy I liked him.”