The Learning Hours — Sara Ney

MY FRIENDS WANT ME TO GET LAID. So much so that they plastered my ugly mug all over campus, in bold printed letters: Are you the lucky lady who's going to break our roommate's cherry? Him: socially awkward man with average-sized penis looking for willing sexual partner… The morons can't even spell. And the texts I've been receiving are what wet dreams are made of. But I'm not like these douchebags, no matter how hard they try to turn me into one. THIS ISN'T THE KIND OF ATTENTION I WANT. One text stands out from hundreds. One number I can't bring myself to block. She seems different. Hotter, even in black and white. However, after seeing her in person, I know she's not the girl for me. But my friends won't let up -- they just don't get it. Douchebags or not, there's one thing they'll never understand: GIRLS DON'T WANT ME. Especially her.