“I don’t mean to rush, but I can’t remember if I finished an assignment. The only way to pass a class is to at least attempt the work.” She shrugs. “I’ll talk to you later.” I get up to walk her out, leaving my sandwich behind and taking her hand as I do. “You don’t have to do this every time, you know? You could’ve finished eating.”
“But you love that I do it, don’t you?”
Her grin gives her away in a heartbeat. “It is nice,” she admits. We walk in silence until I open her car door for her. “If you decide you miss me between now and the game, just text me. I can come over after work or meet you for lunch.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Jamie shakes her head and leans into me, her hands clutching my shirt at my stomach. “Not good enough, Brent. I’d like to see you at some point between now and then when it’s not six a.m.”
I chuckle. “All right. Expect to hear from me then.”
She smiles and kisses me, long and slow, until I don’t want her to go anywhere at all. “Much better.”
She’s right; everything is much better.
“Did you study for the quiz?” Dax asks me.
“What quiz?”
“Don’t you read your emails, Jamie? He sent an email over the weekend that we’d be having a quiz today.”
I lean down and bang my head lightly against my desk with a groan, causing Dax to laugh. “Who checks their school email on the weekends? I had better things to do. I’m so going to fail.”
Dax reaches into his book bag. “There’s still time to look over notes.”
“I don’t take notes for this class. All he does is go over what’s in the textbook, so I normally reread that beforehand.” I am so screwed.
“Here.” Dax hands me his notes. “Be quick.”
“Really?” He nods. I reach over and squeeze his forearm. “Thanks so much!” I bury my nose in his surprisingly well-written notes until our professor finally arrives and then I return them to him with a smile and another thanks. I’m still not so sure I’ll pass, but at least the material is fresh in my mind.
Time automatically slows to a crawl once class officially starts. I’m tempted to glance at Kayla, but I don’t want to draw her attention to me at all. What I really want is to escape and be anywhere but here. The good news is I need to think about what I’ll do once I graduate. The sooner I start daydreaming and making plans, the better. The faster that time will have to come, right? I didn’t take as many classes as I could starting sophomore year, plus summer classes, to prolong my time here. This is my last semester. I just need to survive it and make a game plan for what I’ll do next.
I could find an apartment and ask my manager about switching me to full-time. There’s no need to return to Charlotte and be close to my family. I’ve saved up enough money from the monthly allowances that even if I quit to find the elusive dream job, I could live off that for a good while. I don’t have a particular dream job, though, so no need for that.
“Time’s up, Miss Alexander.”
I glance up upon hearing my name. The Santa look-a-like professor stands in front of his desk and the room has emptied out. Looks like everyone else finished their quiz and left. I eye my paper. There are three questions left to answer. Oh well. I took too much time second-guessing myself and thinking about life post-graduation. I gather my things and hand in my quiz.
There’s a text from Brent when I check my phone.
Brent: Game is Saturday. Dinner tomorrow.
I smile and get to typing a response to his curt messages.
Me: I’ll mark my calendar. And yes, boss, I’ll have dinner with you tomorrow, even though you didn’t ask nicely.
I’m ready for a nap right now, but I have another class to get to. By the time I walk across campus to another large and looming building, Brent texts back.
Brent: Old geezers can’t text. Meant to have a question mark in there.
Me: Sure, sure.
Brent: Talk to you after work.
If it’s like last night, he’ll call me within twenty minutes of me getting off work. I wouldn’t mind seeing him today since I didn’t see him yesterday, but it looks like another phone call will do. I’m almost to the building which holds my next class when I stop in my tracks. There’s a woman standing a few yards away, studying a piece of paper, and she looks confused as she glances up at the nearest building. The problem is she looks an awful lot like my mother. The woman turns my way and my beating heart skitters to a stop.
What in the hell is my mother doing on campus? She has never, not once, stepped foot here. Why now?