The party was proving to be every bit as boring as Gerard had warned him it would be, but Ruston hardly minded. The food was good enough — not nearly as seasoned as he was used to, but edible just the same — and he had an excuse to get out of his dorm, to get off his phone, which he’d thought his girlfriend of three years would be blowing up by the time he stepped away to check it an hour or so in.
Not one message.
It was a reiteration of the same argument they’d had when he’d first made the decision to attend Yale and had relived countless times since, each time barely different from the last. How could he be so SELFISH? They’d had plans. And how was she supposed to feel knowing he was socializing with girls far smarter than she was in a city hours away?
Prettier, smarter, richer — all types of girls she was certain he’d encounter, and by all means, he had. But not one of them had been her.
Not one.
Kindness was so much of a habit that holding the plate out for the young woman — a rather attractive brunette — required no forethought, no deliberation. “You’re quite welcome.” Ruston smiled politely down at her before turning back to the buffet to fill his own plate with seconds.
Unable to help herself- she was a hot-blooded woman, after all- Gin blurted out, “Oh your accent,” before she could even get a ‘thank you’ on her mind. “Shit, sorry. That was embarrassing. What I meant to say was, thank you, that’s kind of you. And then, of course, ask you if you’ve spent much time in the South. Which you obviously have.”
Nothing about this man set him apart from any other at the party- rich, handsome, nice enough at first glance- so Gin supposed it was really fine that she’d gone and embarrassed herself in front of him. Oh well. She couldn’t be a winner in everyone’s eyes.
