The Kiss

right eye and looked at Ms. Chase. She appeared to be next to her desk.
    He opened that eye and closed the other one. In front of the desk .
    He wondered when he’d gone from trying to guess her bra color to playing this stupid game so time could move just a little faster.
    Oh yeah, when he’d realized English Lit was as far from being his thing as being a sewer cleaner. A naked sewer cleaner. Without shoes.
    He wanted to kill Nate for urging him to take that class, and would do so right then and there, if Nate’s fervent note-taking wasn’t giving Bill ammo for endless hours of mocking.
    With the lecture hour finally over, Bill stood to leave. His way to salvation, however, was suddenly blocked by a certain redhead.
    “Hey.” She beamed a smile at him.
    “Hey, Kris.”
    “Have a minute?”
    The two had known each other since they were kids. He was a couple of years older, but Krista had always been smart beyond her years. They’d hung out all the time until he’d gone to college and they’d drifted apart. He’d seen her around campus, and they’d gone for coffee once or twice, but their friendship just couldn’t be what it used to. Maybe it was that it just wasn’t cool to hang with the freshmen—or that’s what Greg said.
    Then again, Krista wasn’t a freshman anymore.
    They walked outside silently, until she chose a bench and they both took a seat.
    “What’s up, Krissy?” He used the nickname only her nearest and dearest got away with. “Is something wrong?”
    She shook her head, then grinned. “Something is actually about to be really right for you, Mister!”
    “For me?” He grinned back. “Did you realize I’m the man of your dreams, after all these years?”
    “Get a grip, William. I know what you look like in diapers.”
    “I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around.” He tickled her side but retracted his hand awkwardly when he remembered the girl next to him wasn’t his best friend any longer and hadn’t been for a couple of years now.
    She blushed. “Never mind that. Remember Eliza?”
    Of course he remembered Eliza. He remembered her the most awkward of moments: when he was alone in the shower or trying to sleep. He’d had a crush on her for a while—a long while—when she’d first moved into town and Krista used to drag her everywhere with her. Greg had gotten to her first, however, and Bill was now over it.
    Still, she was hot.
    “The name kind of rings a bell,” he said.
    Krista stared him down. “It better, because you’re taking her out on Friday night.”
    ***
    Eliza knew what she was doing was wrong, but the end justified the means .
    She licked her lips and batted her eyelids innocently, seemingly completely focused on what the teaching assistant was saying about football. Or she guessed it was football. She hadn’t really been listening, her mind occupied with thoughts of how she could decipher which of the three men sitting at the same table as her could be into her.
    The way she saw things, Cal— that was the TA’s name, after all—Mike, and Leo were inseparable. They hung out together inside and outside of campus, studied together, and trained together. It made sense that, if one of them liked her, the others would know. All she had to do was make herself available. If she was right about one of them being her mystery man, she hoped her flirty-yet-not-aggressive routine would either get him to ask her out or get his friends to suggest they go out.
    It wasn’t working so far.
    She’d pretended she had some questions about class and asked if she could join them when she’d seen them seated at the campus cafeteria. Luckily for her, none of them had minded that she hadn’t said a word about class once seated but had instead been asking the guys questions about themselves.
    She’d winked at Leo and smiled seductively at Mike . And she might have overdone it a little when she ran her fingers along her collarbone and bit her lower lip once or twice while looking at Cal.
    None of them seemed to notice her efforts.
    In fact, they were talking to each other now, patting backs over their team’s victory— if the subject was still football—and ignoring her.
    “Wow, look at the time.” She glanced at her watch-free wrist. “I better get going.” To Cal, she said, “Don’t want to hog all your lunch break time. I’ll just ask you those questions in class.” She pushed her chair back, and he stood and helped her out of it.
    “We could—I