I gave it a friendly smack. “Artist, maybe,” I sighed as I sat down. “I don’t know about the star part.”

“Don’t deny it, Sam, you know you’re totally rockin’ the lady balls since changing your major to Art.”

I grimaced. “Okay, I know some women say ‘lady balls’ all the time nowadays, but seriously, can you explain it? I mean, do guys go around saying ‘Dude, you’re totally rocking the man clitoris!’ or ‘Dude, I’ve got brass man-labia hanging between my legs!’? No! Because no guy would ever say that. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Madison smiled thoughtfully. “You’re right, Sam. You’re absolutely right. No more lady balls for either one of us.” We exchanged another high-five. “Maybe you should change your major to Gender Studies,” she joked.

“You might be onto something.”

Madison giggled. “But I have been with one guy who had a man-clitoris, or a very small willy-nilly. Emphasis on the nilly part.”

“You so did not say that!” I guffawed.

Another high-five.

“It’s not Jake, is it?” I asked, suddenly mortified.

“No!” Madison protested. “Jake totally has man balls and a man dick. No woman parts whatsoever.”

“Oh, phew. I was ready to feel bad for you.”

“Nope, Jake’s good to go. And go, and go, and go.”

I leaned into her, giggling.

“Keep it down in here, this is a library and some people are trying to study,” Hunter said, his head sticking through the door.

 I frowned, “What are you doing here?” How the hell did he find me? Um, stalker?

“I needed to look something up,” he smiled.

“You’re not even a student here,” I said.

“Am I missing something?” Madison asked.

“Oh, uh, this is Hunter Blakeley,” I said sourly, “he’s the model in my sculpting class.”

He took that as his cue to walk completely into the study room and close the door behind him.

“Ooh,” Madison twinkled her nose, “does that mean Sam gets to look at you naked?”

“Mads!” I bumped her knee under the table with mine.

She took the hint and said no more.

Hunter didn’t waste any time picking up the slack. “It’s all part of the job description.”

“What is your job, anyway?” I asked. “Do you actually do anything besides model for Bittinger’s class and stalk me?”

“Of course I do,” he said casually.

“Do what?” I sneered. “Stalk tons of other uninterested young women?”

“No,” he smiled, undeterred, “outside of class, I model for all kinds of things. Some pretty high profile work.”

“Like what?” Madison asked innocently.

He chuckled. “You’re probably not going to believe this…”

He was probably right.

“You know how when you buy underwear for guys,” he grinned proudly, “there’s always a photo of some dude with amazing abs and a huge, uh, package printed on the, uh, package?”

“Yeah?” I said. Not that I bought men’s underwear, but I’d seen the “packages” he was talking about.

“I’m that guy,” Hunter smiled.

I frowned. It seemed too ridiculous to be true. But I knew firsthand that he was certainly large enough to fill a pair of briefs.

“You’re the package guy?” Madison gawked.

“Totally.” He nodded and smiled. “I still have residuals coming in from underwear I did four years ago.”

The study room had windows that faced into the library, so other students could see us inside. Hunter glanced around cautiously, as if he was about to reveal secret intelligence vital to the preservation of the United States of America, and didn’t want any stray SDU students hearing what he had to say and selling the information to the Taliban. When Hunter was sure the coast was clear, he leaned toward Madison and me and muttered conspiratorially, “The dirty secret none of the underwear manufacturers want you to know is, I’m ‘that guy’ for all of them.” He stood up to his full height, which was over six feet, and nodded, very proud of himself.

I rolled my eyes. I was in the midst of a celebrity. Groan. I considered begging him for an autograph. But…no.

“I also do ads for fitness equipment,” Hunter winked.

“Sorry, haven’t seen any of those,” I said. Hunter was starting to strike me as the sort of guy who spent more time in front of a mirror than any woman ever would.

“Me neither,” Madison said, picking up on my vibe.

“Well, I also do runway work,” he said, “but that’s seasonal.”

When I pictured Hunter doing runway work, I imagined him at the airport with the DJ headphones and the glowing red sticks, waving in jumbo jets, wearing only tighty-whiteys and work boots. I snickered, but tried to cover it up.

Hunter flashed his amber eyes at us. “What? Did I miss something?” he smiled hopefully.

Mine and Madison’s deflating interest was shriveling up his ego. I realized we needed to let him off the hook before he shriveled up any further and lost his dick modeling contracts.

Crinkling my nose, I said, “We kind of need to study, Hunter.”

“I can come back later,” he offered hopefully. “Maybe walk you to your car?”

As nice as the guy seemed, he tried way too hard, and he didn’t listen. I think I’d told him I wasn’t interested, oh, I don’t know, every time I saw him? Okay, one more time.

“Hunter, you’re a sweet guy. But I’m not going out with you, no matter how many times you offer to walk me to my car. Please respect the fact that I have a boyfriend.”

“I do. But you have the wrong one.”

I dropped my head into my forearms on the table. I had walked right into that one. “Please, Hunter, I’m begging you—”

“That’s more like it,” he chuckled. “I like it when you beg.”

“—to go away.” I laughed that desperate laugh when you don’t want to be rude, but you can’t think of anything else to say to make a person go away.

He nodded confidently. “No worries. I’ll see you in Bittinger’s class.” He winked at me when he walked out.

Why did he always have to wink?

“Wow, what a stalker,” Madison said. “Cute stalker, but man, he was desperate. Or head-over heels for you know who!” she grinned.

I dropped my head back into my hands. “No, please no. I’ve tried to be nice, but no matter what I tell him, he keeps coming back.”

“You’re not sending him mixed signals, are you?”

“What?! No! Not at all. I’ve told him over and over again I’m not interested.”

“Maybe you’re telling him too forcefully,” Madison suggested.

“I’d rather not tell him at all, but he won’t leave me alone,” I groaned as I pulled my laptop out of my book bag and turned it on.

“He was pretty hot,” Madison said thoughtfully.

“You think so?”

“Are you blind? Of course he was.”

“But,” I said nervously, “isn’t it weird to be attracted to another guy when you’re dating Jake?”

“Wait, are you saying you’re attracted to this guy Hunter?” Madison gasped. “What about Christos?”

“What? No! Don’t turn this around on me! I’m totally attracted to Christos. He’s uber hot. Hunter isn’t even close.” I took a relaxing breath. “But I mean, Hunter is good looking. How could I not notice when he stands naked ten feet away from me every time I have sculpting class?”

Madison gave me a long, considering look. After a minute, she spoke, “Sam, relax. When you fall in love, the rest of the world doesn’t cease to exist. It’s still filled with attractive people. If you happen to notice that some random guy is hot, who cares?”

“I’m sorry, Mads. You’re right. I guess it’s just bugging me because I’m being forced to stare at the same random guy naked, several hours at a stretch. Twice a week. For ten weeks straight.”

“Don’t worry, Sam. You’ll be over him sooner or later. His cock will become invisible to you,” she grinned.

“Like someone lopped it off?” I smiled hopefully.

“That’s not a bad idea,” she giggled. “But no, eventually you just won’t care anymore. Staring at Hunter’s hickory dickory will become business as usual.”