Hazed (Palm South University)

Jarrett smiles sympathetically, and then his hand reaches over and squeezes my knee under the bar.

It’s such a simple, friendly gesture. It’s an I hear you, I get it, it’s going to be okay. It’s something I wouldn’t think twice about if I was comforting a friend.

But when Jarrett touches me, when that warm, strong hand of his wraps around my leg and squeezes, a million tiny fireworks go off in every inch of my body, and I hum to life for the first time in weeks.

“You’re not the first one to feel like this,” he says. “And you’re not alone. Trust me. This is completely normal.”

I swallow, trying to listen to him and forget the fact that he’s touching me for the first time in years.

Trying to ignore the fact that in my very drunken state, I want him to touch me more.

“When I graduated, I felt the same way. I was working at the beach bar and all my friends were moving on. I thought grad school was the answer, but even that felt hollow, like I was just doing it to avoid the fact that I didn’t know what I wanted to do.”

I frown. “You seemed so in love with your GA position when I met you.”

“Oh, by then I was. But it took a while to get there.”

He finally removes his hand from my leg, and I take a deep breath of much-needed oxygen.

“I think when we’re in college, we don’t realize that we sort of have this free pass while we’re there, you know? No one expects anything of us past getting good grades. We’re free to go out every night and sleep in all day, to party and travel and do whatever feels good, and as long as we’re passing, all is right in the world. But then you graduate, and suddenly you’re expected to have it all figured out. You should have a job right away — and not just any job, a professional job, one that uses your degree. And if you don’t, then everyone starts to look at you like you’re some sort of failure, like just because you don’t have everything figured out at twenty-two, you’re not okay.”

My jaw goes slack. “Exactly! God, that’s exactly how I’ve been feeling. I know they don’t mean to, but I can sense the pitiful way Ashlei and Erin look at me when I talk about job hunting. And even Kade. I mean, he’s got plans. He’s going to be the next president of Alpha Sigma. And then there’s me and—”

Suddenly, I realize I’m talking about Kade to his brother.

His brother who is my ex.

I shake my head, a sheepish smile slipping over my lips. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jarrett insists. “Kade cares about you, Jess. He isn’t judging you, I promise. If anything, he thinks the world revolves around you.”

“Well, that’s because it does, obviously,” I joke, but it feels flat even as I say it.

“Jess, listen to me,” Jarrett says, leaning down until I lift my eyes to his. “You’re not behind. You’re not a failure. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be. Just because you don’t have a job yet doesn’t mean you won’t. It means the right opportunity hasn’t come along yet. It means there’s something better down the line. I know it’s hard, but try to trust in the fact that every part of life, even the confusing, frustrating, low moments, have purpose. And one day, you’ll look back at this period of time and realize that it all happened for a reason.”

I smile. “You sound like a self-help book.”

“Maybe I should write one.”

“You could call it Drunk Truth Bombs with Jarrett.”

“Do I have to be drunk when I write it, or does the person reading it have to be drunk?”

“Both for maximum effectiveness.”

Jarrett chuckles, shaking his head as his eyes search mine. “I’ve missed you.”

The words slip out so easily, like he doesn’t realize how they feel akin to a ninja star to my chest. My next breath is shallow, burning, like the entire bar is on fire.

But Jarret just takes a sip of his whiskey and looks around with a smile, like what he said was the most casual, most natural thing in the world.

“So, working on a Saturday,” I muse, opting for my water when I realize my words are slurring a bit. “Must be busy at the new office.”

“Very much so. It’s exciting to open a new branch here, but it’s a lot of pressure, too.”

I nod. “I’m sure. But you’re the man for the job.”

“You think so?” he asks, shaking his head. “Sometimes I’m not so sure.”

“Jarrett, I’ve never met anyone so passionate about giving back to the community, about using their political knowledge for good instead of personal gain. I don’t know if you know this, but most politicians are skeezy little assholes.”