We Were Here: A New Adult Romance Prequel to Geoducks Are for Lovers (Modern Love Stories Book 1) by Daisy Prescott

Okay.”
    “Another time?” I crossed my fingers even though he couldn’t see me.
    “Maybe we could meet up at the Four Leaf Clover after?” He sounded exactly like a man trying not to sound simultaneously eager and disappointed.
    “Are you suggesting for me to break the law?”
    “I suspect this won’t be the only time you’ve returned to that fine establishment.”
    He was right. We went there weekly, sometimes twice. “What time?”
    “I’ll be there after eleven.” His confidence returned.
    “I’ll be the one in the Mrs. Roper style muumuu.”
    “Sounds oddly sexy.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m looking forward to seeing you.”
    After saying good-bye and waiting for the dial tone, I hung up and did a small shimmy. On my bed. While jumping up and down. Screaming.

    Donna Summer blasted from Quinn and Gil’s room. No way the RAs didn’t know about the party, but they hadn’t cared enough to break it up. Friday night before spring break meant they were probably gone or at their own party.
    A trip to the local Salvation Army had reaped many fabulous outfits made of highly flammable polyester and its cousin, rayon. My muumuu had a cornucopia of flowers on it in dazzling day-glo colors. Gil sported a light blue leisure suit and neck scarf. Maggie wore a flowy dress in lilac—a seventies bridesmaid dress at the ugliest wedding ever. The color made her skin glow against her red hair. Lizzy’s micro mini barely passed her ass, but white tights covered her indecency.
    Quinn looked like a disco ball in his sparkly, open-collared shirt and shiny silver bell bottoms. Round rose-tinted sunglasses partially hid his blue eyes.
    I think Ben dressed as Bob Ross. His curly hair looked extra poofy above his denim suit. Yes, he wore a denim blazer and matching slacks. Leave it to Alex P. Keaton to find a denim suit.
    All together, we looked like a bad mashup of seventies television shows.
    “I can’t believe anyone ever thought these clothes were cool.” Gil ran his hand over the rough texture on his arm.
    “Are you kidding? This is the best invention ever.” I spun around. “If it had pockets, I’d live in these things. Stylish, yet airy and breathable.”
    “There’s nothing breathable about these pants.” Quinn’s bell bottoms were the tightest fitting, leave-nothing-to-the-imagination man pants I’d ever seen.
    “I’ve never understood guys and their need to let their penises breathe ?” I used air-quotes to demonstrate my doubt. “Your lungs aren’t attached to your genitals.”
    “It’s more about containment and the ability for things to, um . . .” Gil paused.
    “Listen, things move around and need their space,” Ben explained for him.
    “Didn’t you learn this stuff in your biology class?” Quinn asked.
    “She was too busy flirting with our professor.” Maggie nudged me.
    Quinn made a face. “Old Driscoll?”
    “No, the hot, super young grad student who subbed for him. Where have you been?” I set him straight. Figuratively of course.
    “Super hot, young grad student? And you didn’t share?” Quinn mock glared at me.
    I contemplated telling them about my plans after the party. I needed to get them to the bar, but didn’t want the teasing that would ensue for the next couple of hours in between now and then.
    “He’s on our team, Quinn. Sorry.”
    “How do you know?” He raised his eyebrow at me.
    Maggie huffed. “It may have been a biology class, but there was a lot of chemistry. All of it aimed at Selah.”
    Really? “There was?”
    “You were too busy trying to play coy to catch him staring at you.”
    Hmm, news to me. I didn’t think I could play coy.
    Before everyone got too drunk for the second act of the night, I made my suggestion. They all agreed, with the caveat we kept our costumes on.
    “We’ll match the interior.”
    “It’s not Halloween, Quinn.” I really didn’t need to show up wearing a muumuu. I was ninety-nine-point-nine-percent