In Too Hard (Freshman Roommates Trilogy, Book 3) by Mara Jacobs Page B

dismissal, his white cotton buttoned-down shirt looking ghostly in the dark of the night. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a Queens girl. Whatever. You’ve been to the city.”
    Not often. I was usually saddled with my little brothers and there was no way I was going to lug them into Manhattan. “Yeah, you’re right. Smarter to stay in tonight,” I said, hoping to curb the “my Manhattan/your Manhattan” direction the conversation was headed. He didn’t need to know about my New York.
    I was trying hard to forget. To become a Bribury Basic and let the Queens girl fall away.
    He looked like he was going to pursue it. I felt my lips tighten, like I was preparing to keep my secrets, and he sat back in his chair. The light behind him created a halo effect around him, and the screen’s illumination washed him out, creating this kind of angel-like presence.
    Yeah, I had idolized Montrose since I was fourteen, but even I knew the guy was no angel.
    He laced his fingers together across his chest, resting his elbows on the wrought-iron arms of the chair. I couldn’t see it, but from his movements I could tell that he’d stretched out his legs.
    “So,” he said, “any resolutions? Goals for the new year?”
    I relaxed, my lips untightening. He was going to let it go.
    I was going to tell him about the thing Lily, Jane and I did with the envelope sealing, but I didn’t. For one thing, it kind of felt like I’d be betraying Jane and Lily by telling him about it. Like, it was something that belonged to just the three of us. And, even though I didn’t know what they’d written, even talking about doing it, was somehow spilling a secret.
    Secondly, I didn’t want to put the thought of Jane in his head. Oh, I was past the point of thinking Montrose would succumb to Jane’s flirtations, and it seemed that Jane was beyond Montrose, too, due to the ponytailed guy, and the dance floor kissing. But…still.
    Lastly, I didn’t bring up our envelopes because I didn’t want Montrose to ask what I’d written down and sealed up for a year.
    It had been the night before Montrose had hired me, and my New Year’s statement now seemed childish and…well, freshman-like, even though it had just been two weeks earlier.
    “I guess I hadn’t really thought about it,” I said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. The thing Lily, Jane and I did wasn’t exactly resolutions.  
    In the background I could hear the final countdown, and the roar which meant…yep, I checked the time on my laptop…it was now the new year.
    Montrose’s head tilted in the direction of Times Square, but his eyes stayed on the screen. “Happy New Year, Syd,” he said softly.
    “Happy New Year, Billy.”
    I licked my lips, like I was expecting the lauded kiss at midnight, but that was stupid. What? We were going to each press our lips against our laptop screens? Like an inmate getting a visit in prison and kissing his wife through the glass that separated them?
    There was no way my first kiss with Montrose was going to taste like MacBook Air.
    Not that there would necessarily be a first kiss.
    God, I hoped there would be a first kiss. And a second, and…infinity.
    He sat forward in his chair and I held my breath. He looked at me for a long time, seemingly studying my face as if he would later be asked to describe me for a police sketch artist or something. Opening his mouth to say something, he changed his mind and gave his head a tiny shake, then sat back in the chair.
    “So, back to resolutions. You said you hadn’t thought about it. Now’s your chance. What do you resolve for this next year?”
    “Umm…let me think,” I said, my mind whooshing over thoughts and ideas of things that would be okay to tell him. “Do you have any?” I finally said.
    He waved a hand of dismissal. “That’s easy. Write and finish my next book.”
    “Oh, yeah, of course. That’s a good one. A great one, actually.”
    Another wave, this one smaller, his wrist barely rising above the