This story takes place one month after Size 14… though in this version, the very last bit where she meets her new, sexy math professor did not happen. In my version, that book ended with her and Cooper in the car, him saying he wouldn't be the rebound and her saying things were fine for now.

Catching a Rebound

Chapter 1

"I need a man."

Magda looks up at me, one eyebrow arched suspiciously. And why not? All she said was 'good morning.' I'm sure my response wasn't quite what she had in mind.

"I know someone," she finally says, when her look clears.

"Great!" I say, leaning against her counter, downing my second coffee of the day. It's not even ten in the morning, and already my day is turning into a coffee binge fest. That's what happens when there are two murders at the school early in the morning. Yes, again. This time it was a remedial math professor – Tad something or other. And a student in (where else?) Fischer Hall. "Get my mind off this awful morning. Who's the guy?"

"Well," she says, popping a bite of her pop tart in her mouth. "He's great. Funny. Sweet. Smart. Incredibly handsome…"

"Sounds like a catch," I say, forcing a smile. I really don't need a man. Or want a man. But I still need a rebound. It's been one month and I have not found anyone. And I've put myself out there! I go to bars with Patty and Magda and totally spark up conversations with cute guys. They always seem a little turned off by all the murder I seem to be surrounded by. I allowed Patty to set me up on an online dating service. Although all I really do there is poke people. I even went to a party for single people (I know!) hosted by New York College's own Muffy Fowler. Everyone there was honestly just like Muffy, which is why that night ended with me curled up with Lucy at home watching a Golden Girls marathon on TV Land.

"Oh, he is," Magda enthuses. "He's a detective, too. Very sexy occupation—"

"—Magda," I say, cutting her off. "If you're going to suggest I go out with Cooper, need I remind you that I asked and he said 'no.' Case closed."

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "He was scared. I know he likes you. Just last week, when he was here waiting for you, he got this look every time someone walked through the door that wasn't you. Like all hopeful and then serious. When you finally came over to him, he smiled in this way—"

"—because we're friends. I smiled at you when I spotted you just now. And, no offense, but I don't feel that way about you."

"Wells!"

I jump and turn. I know that voice. My good friend, Detective Canavan.

"Here we go," I say, swiveling around on my stool. "Time to play 'tell me everything you know about the victim from Fischer Hall.'"

"You were supposed to meet me in the victim's dorm room," he says, looking pretty peeved. "Twenty minutes ago."

"I needed sustenance."

I stand, preparing to walk away with Canavan but first turn to Magda. "When you find me a real, interested guy, you let me know, okay?"

"Oh, I will," she says coyly. Ugh. She won't. She is the biggest fan in the Heather and Cooper fan club. And I'm the only other member.

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Heather Wells is going to be the death of me. Honestly. I have never in my life met such a magnet for trouble. Why does she insist on staying employed in a place where people are constantly dying?

I walk down the familiar hallway of Fischer Hall, trying to push down the slight anxiety I've had since my pal Joe McKee from the NYPD called me a half hour ago.

I swear I spend more time in this dorm – I mean residence hall – than I do at my own home.

I walk into her office and spot her and Canavan talking – him taking notes undoubtedly about the latest Fischer Hall victim.

Heather stops mid-sentence when she sees me enter her office and looks surprised. "Hey, Coop," she says. "You didn't have to come all the way—"

"I heard what happened," I say, looking at Canavan. "Don't either of you keep your cell phones on?"

Heather takes her phone out of her pocket and glances at it. "Oh, it's on silent. Sorry."

Canavan glances at his phone, too. "Six missed calls." He looks up at me, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Worried about your girlfriend, were you?"

"McKee called to tell me what happened, but all he could tell me was that this time a student and someone who works at the school were killed. He didn't know anything more than that," I say, stuffing my hands in my pocket and looking away from both of them as I try to regain my composure. Canavan always calls Heather my girlfriend. And for some reason, I never correct him. "Heather here just happens to work here," I point out. I look up at her and force a smile. "And as we both know, she has a real tendency to find trouble when it's at this college."

"Oh, Coop, you care!" she says sweetly, with a small hint of friendly humor.

I smile at her and shake my head, relaxing a bit.

"Obviously Miss Wells here is just fine," Canavan points out.

"Well luckily Magda answers her phone," I say. "So I knew you were okay." I sit down in one of the chairs opposite her desk. "So, did you know either of them?"

Heather shakes her head. "Not exactly. Melissa, the student, came to one of the hall meetings. I remember she asked twice about where we keep our stash of free condoms."

My eyebrows shoot up at that and I instantly flush, just a bit. Heather's an adult – one of my closest friends now, at that. But hearing her talk openly about anything to do with sex makes me a little… uncomfortable. After all, I've known her for nearly half my life. She was a teen when we met! I guess on some level I still associate her with some amount of innocence.

Canavan is peeking over Heather's computer with sudden interest in what is on the screen. Heather catches his expression and turns her attention to the computer. Her expression quickly goes from shocked to what looks like embarrassed… and if I'm not mistaken, a little excited.

"Uh, let me just close that box," she says quickly to Canavan. She clicks a few buttons, and I won't lie, my curiosity is completely piqued.

"What box?" I ask, my gaze never leaving her face.

"Nothing," she says, quickly, looking pleadingly at Canavan.

He doesn't take the hint, though… or at least he purposely ignores her imploring look.

"A dating site?" he asks, outright laughing. "What are you doing on a dating site?"

I smile at Heather now, too. "Yes, Heather… what are you doing on a dating site?"

A little nagging feeling is pulling at me in this very unsettling way. It's probably indigestion. I clear my throat and raise my eyebrows at Heather, giving her my best "well?" expression.

"None of your business," she finally says to both Canavan and me. "It was just a pop-up ad anyway. I wasn't on any site."

I can see a blush creeping up her cheeks and I laugh inwardly. She is a horrible liar; she always has been.

"Canavan, I think we covered everything, don't you?" she asks.

He glances down at his notepad and groans. "I guess so."

She grabs her cell phone and looks down at it and then back up at me. "Coop, thanks for coming by. As you can see, I am fine. And I won't get involved with this one. Don't you worry."

I stand up and take a few steps toward her. "Do I have your word on that?" I ask. Because honestly… once I realized she was okay on my way over here, I felt an entirely new wave of anxiety at the idea of what this death really means. Every time something like this happens, Heather ends up right smack in the middle of it, hanging – sometimes literally – on for dear life, because she has a complete inability to leave the police work to the, well, police.

I'm honestly not sure I can take it, if she does that again.

"Of course," she says coyly, winking at me, offering up one of her infectious smiles. "Now, I have to go. Official residence hall duty!"

She says goodbye to us both and runs out of her office, dialing her phone on her way out.

I take a few steps into the hall and see that she's stopped and put the phone up to her ear. She can't see me, but I know I am in hearing range of whatever phone call she's about to have.

I should walk away.

But… I'm rooted to the spot.

"Mags," she finally says, excitedly. "Guess what?... One of the guys I poked asked me out…. On a date!... Me!"

I make my way out of her building at that. I mean, really, you should not eavesdrop on your good friend and roommate. It's just not right.

But I can't help turning over what I just heard in my head. She's going on a date.

With someone that she poked.

I have no idea what that means.

But I'm pretty sure I don't like it.