I took a deep breath. Why are boys so interested in me? They didn’t until I changed my hair. Does that even make sense? Dad won’t approve. I looked at Don. What’s wrong with me? He’s gorgeous. I should just say no. That’s what Dad would want.

Joanie looked through the door. “Scotti, I don’t have you down for anything this coming Saturday.”

Deeply annoyed at Joanie, I said with a weak smile, “Well, it would seem I am free next Saturday.”

Don grinned and patted my hand. Why are boys always touching me? He exclaimed, “That’s great, Scotti! The team and the cheerleaders always have an after game party, regardless of results. It’s always a blast. I expect that you will show up for the game as well.”

I hate football. I gave Don a big smile. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for anything! The game is here, right? Okay. I’ll be there.”

Don leaned in ever closer. “That’s great! But you know what I was just thinking?”

I laughed nervously and asked, “What were you just thinking?”

Sliding a finger down my nose, Don said, “The game is a whole, entire week away. Wednesday is late movie day. I can pick you up at eleven after you get off work.”

This is getting worse and worse. I asked, “What movie?”

Don laughed. “Who cares? I’ll see you at eleven on Wednesday.”

I giggled and looked over at Amy and gave two thumbs up that I didn’t really feel. “Bonus!”

Amy scowled at me. “You got two dates? That’s not fair!”

Don chuckled as he picked up his chicken fried steak and sat down to eat lunch with his hunky friends. How could there be four gorgeous guys on one football team? I mentally slapped myself. And why is it I even care? I sighed heavily as I stared wistfully at Don.

Amy chuckled. “Unless you rent them I’m guessing daddy can just forget about his two point eight grandchildren.”

I turned to frown at Amy. “It’s just a date.”

Amy shook her head and held up two fingers. “Two. Two dates. One more and it’s marriage city.”

I shook my head at Amy.”Don’t be ridiculous!” On the back of an order pad, I idly wrote “Mrs. Don Armstrong… Scotti Armstrong… Mr. and Mrs. Don Armstrong…”

Amy stepped towards me and reached out for the pad. “Whatcha doing?”

I quickly flipped the pad over. “Nothing.”

Amy reached for the pad again. “If it’s nothing, let’s see it.”

I tossed the pad into a trash can. “I said it’s not nothing.”

Amy frowned. “That means it’s something! Gimme!”

Joanie stepped out of her office. “Children! You two need to stop!” She looked at me and held out her hand. “Those pads cost money. Hand it over.”

I pulled the pad from the trash can and handed it to Joanie. As she took it, she said, “Thanks.” She then squinted at the back side and said, “Mrs. Don Armstrong? Who’s that?”

Amy burst out laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes.

I really must be losing my mind. Dad was pretty clear about his expectations about me. You don’t have to dress up for classes at the university. So despite those two things, why am I wearing a little black dress and applying make-up? I even got up early to do this. Dad would not approve.

But today’s my Calculus class, which is next to Mr. Nichols’ office. I need to see a shrink. I have not one but two dates with the hottest football player and the university’s most eligible bachelor and I’m dressing to snag the attention of a teacher that doesn’t pay me any attention.

And all this after being mercilessly ribbed on the way back to my dorm by Amy because my choice of doodles.

I stood up and checked myself out in my mirror. I posed a few times. I’ve dressed up as a girl a lot lately and dating a few boys. Am I stuck like this? I shrugged.

I stepped quietly out of my dorm room, hoping to not disturb Larry. I sighed. It was wasted effort. He was sitting on the common area eating cornflakes. He looked up at me and issued a low whistle.

“Looking good, Scotti! What’s with the threads?” Larry asked as I started to walk past him.

Shrugging, I said, “I just felt like dressing up. I’m allowed, aren’t I?”

Larry grinned. “Oh, no argument from me!”

I grinned at Larry. “It wouldn’t hurt you any to up your game. A clean t-shirt will go a long way. I need to go.”

Larry exclaimed, “Hey! This was a clean t-shirt three days ago.” The elevator door closing cut off anything else he had to say.

Walking across the grass areas on the campus in heels always slows me down some, but I finally arrived on the math floor of the science building. Mr. Nichols’ door was open so I hoped I could stop by and say hello.

As I approached, I heard a loud “fwump” sound and then Mr. Nichols shouting “Dammit!” Heels clicking, I hurried to his open door and looked inside.

I poked my head into his office and sincerely asked, “Mr. Nichols? Is everything okay in here?” There were a lot of files and reports scattered over the floor along with Mr. Nichols.

He looked up at me and said, “Oh, hello there, Scotti. I seem to live by Murphy’s Law. I’m about to be late for a meeting and I knock all these files to the floor.”

Making sure I didn’t expose my panties, I knelt beside him in his office. “Don’t you just hate that? I’ll help you pick them up. Any particular order?”

Shuffling some papers together, Mr. Nichols said, “Thank you so much, Scotti. Don’t worry about the order just yet. I can do that later. You’ll make a great executive assistant one day.”

I just smiled and said, “Thank you!” I’m hoping to be a software architect, but I’d be happy to sit on his lap and take down dictation.

A moment later, we were getting back on our feet. Thankfully, I hadn’t gotten any dirt on my dress. Mr. Nichols grinned at me as we set the last stack of papers on top of the table in his office. “That was a great job, Scotti. You know, there is an opening for a student office assistant in the math department. If you’re interested, it might be a good opportunity for you.” Oh, wouldn’t that be wonderful to be his assistant?

He put a few reports into his brief case. “Well, I have a meeting to get to. Thanks again Scotti for your help.” He hurried off down the hall.

Smiling to myself and feeling happy to have been some assistance I turned to go to my class. I took one step and stopped. Ms. Zicke was standing in my way, her arms folded and she was tapping her foot.

“Little girl, if I have to tell you one more time to stop stalking my fiancée, I will be going to your dean. Am I making myself clear?”

I gave her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am. Very clear.” I walked past her to get to my class.

To be continued…