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"  I didn&amp;#039;t see Justin at practice last Tuesday, and I wasn&amp;#039;t sure I&amp;#039;d see him at Saturday practice either, since so many people were home for Thanksgiving. I&amp;#039;d decided that when I did see him, I was going to play it cool and disprove whatever the devil herself had said about me.  And naturally, I wanted to look as cute as possible as I did that. I had dropped off all my sweaty running clothes at the laundromat across the street from my apartment before I went home for Thanksgiving (the definition of &amp;quot;making it&amp;quot; to me is being able to afford an apartment in NYC that comes equip with a washer/dryer), and picked it up when I came back to the city on Friday night. However, when I opened up my laundry bag on Saturday morning in search of my running clothes, I found they&amp;#039;d given me someone else&amp;#039;s laundry. Bastards!  The laundromat doesn&amp;#039;t open until 9 a.m. on Saturdays, and I had to be in Central Park at 8:15. So I scrambled to find something else that could contain my boobs and keep me warm for six miles. I ended up throwing on a big, shapeless sweatshirt from college that said, &amp;quot;Amherst, Class of 2010&amp;quot; that I normally reserve for my Sunday hangover. I felt like a blobby blob in it, but I wouldn&amp;#039;t have minded so much if I had known what an impact that sweatshirt would have on my destiny (please excuse my melodrama).  I was rolling solo, as Nina was in California visiting her cousins for the holiday. I didn&amp;#039;t see Justin, and for a second I felt relieved he wouldn&amp;#039;t see me in my dumpy sweats and sweatshirt\u2014but that disappeared when he came jogging up to me and my heart lurched.  &amp;quot;Hey there.&amp;quot; He slowed to a walk as he approached me. &amp;quot;How was your Thanksgiving?&amp;quot;  I patted my stomach. &amp;quot;My food baby says it was good.&amp;quot;  Justin&amp;#039;s eyes lingered on the place I&amp;#039;d patted for just a beat too long. I suddenly felt self-conscious\u2026I was joking, but maybe I really did eat so much I looked prego?  &amp;quot;Did you go to Amherst?&amp;quot;  I looked down and saw that he was just reading the writing on my sweatshirt. Phew. &amp;quot;I did,&amp;quot; I said. &amp;quot;I thought I told you that.&amp;quot;  Justin scratched his chin. &amp;quot;You did, but I guess I forgot.&amp;quot; He furrowed his brow and didn&amp;#039;t say anything for a moment. When he did, he sounded befuddled. &amp;quot;And you graduated in 2010?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Yeah.&amp;quot; I tried to read his expression\u2014why did he look so perplexed? &amp;quot;Why?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Nothing.&amp;quot; He shook his head. &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s just\u2026did you do like a semester in New York or something?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Nope.&amp;quot; I shook my head. &amp;quot;Why are you asking me this?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Okay everyone!&amp;quot; It was Couch Marni, on her loudspeaker. &amp;quot;Gather &amp;#039;round.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;ll just talk to you later,&amp;quot; Justin whispered.  Justin is no longer pretending to run at my pace, so I knew the only opportunity to talk to him again was after the run. However, he runs so fast that I was worried he would be gone by the time my slow ass finished. So you better believe I ran like there was wind beneath my feet. As a result, I knocked back six miles in 53 minutes. I jumped up and down, hands in the air, Rocky style (appropriate since I was wearing a sweatsuit almost as hideous as his) when Coach Marni told me my time.  &amp;quot;You&amp;#039;re a rockstar,&amp;quot; Justin said when I sat next to him on the grass to stretch.  &amp;quot;Thanks,&amp;quot; I gasped. My sweatshirt had ended up being way too heavy for the run, and I was pretty sure I was so flushed my face was purple.  &amp;quot;The key is to dress like it&amp;#039;s 10 degrees warmer out than it is,&amp;quot; Justin said as I wiped my brow. I know, I know. Do your best not to be jealous of how sexy I am.  &amp;quot;So I&amp;#039;m actually traveling for work this week and won&amp;#039;t be at practice on Tuesday,&amp;quot; Justin said.  &amp;quot;Okay.&amp;quot; Why was he telling me this?  &amp;quot;So I wanted to tell you now that I organized this fundraiser for Thursday night at The Corner Bar.&amp;quot;  I tried not to grin like an idiot. &amp;quot;Cool, where is that?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;ll send you the Facebook invite.&amp;quot;  We chatted a little longer and then went our separate ways. I really wish Nina had been with me so I could get her take on Justin&amp;#039;s sudden flip\u2014he&amp;#039;d gone from hot to cool to warm again. Also, I was confused as to what his fascination was with where and when I went to college. What was that about?  When I got home, I logged into Facebook to check out Justin&amp;#039;s invite. I looked at the guest list and my face went from purple to white. Elizabeth was on it.  I can&amp;#039;t describe it, but I just have this feeling that my odd interaction with Justin is connected to her. I have no idea how\u2014but I think I&amp;#039;ll figure it out once we&amp;#039;re all in the same room together. In the words of the great Britney Spears, &amp;quot;Here comes the showdown.&amp;quot; "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.cosmopolitan.com/sex-love/a10901/j-bedroom-blog-dumpy-old-sweatshirt/>