Walking in as cool as manner as I could muster, I made my way to the stairs. Why did this sort of thing always happen to me? Now this guy was going to think I was a complete weirdo, and quite frankly, I was actually slightly worried about my own sanity, having just resorted to shutting a textbook in an oven.
Knowing full well that I couldn't retrieve the book until the kitchen was free of cute-bums (or in fact, any bums), I decided that the only thing for it was to go and find my roommate in the bar. Of course, I had no plans to stay out too long, that would be a bad idea on the night before an economics exam that I had failed to study for, but a little distance between myself and the Evil Book might give me the perspective I needed. I just hoped nobody tried to cook dinner in the time it took me to gain that perspective.
In the bar, my roommate was holding court over her usual gang of boytoys. Katy just seemed to have something that I didn't, she could talk to boys, she could flirt with boys, in fact, she could make most boys fall in love with her. She always tried to get me to talk to the ones that she didn't want to keep for herself, saw herself as a matchmaker, but ultimately she knew that my complete inability to communicate with members of the opposite sex without making a fool of myself was going to be a major hindrance.
After a couple of drinks with Katy (and the usual comments on her behalf about how I should talk with Mike, or meet Paul), I decided on one more drink before I went home to try and study for the dreaded exam. Waiting at the bar for the barman to notice me was a fairly common event in my life, no matter how much I waved my money around and tried to make eye contact, they always seemed to look right through me. Sighing, I glanced to my left and, to my horror, caught the eye of Cute-bum.
"Well if it isn't you!" he said, with an amused look on his face. "How was your dinner?"
"Uh...dinner?" I answered, blushing furiously. "Um..I don't know what...you...um, sorry?"
"Your economics book? I saw you shut it in the oven and can only assume you were roasting it? Or maybe marinating?" he replied, still with that slightly amused look. Seeing my look of sheer horror, he continued, "Hey, don't worry, I'm just teasing you! You've gotta admit, it's quite funny!"
I tried to reply with a look that said "Sure, it's funny. I am not at all horrified that you caught me doing it and that you are now standing here teasing me about it."
"So, can I buy you a drink?" he asked.