Snatched

“You know what, fine. Do what you want. Hook up with a football player. Everyone else here does,” Mandy says, then turns around and goes to her own room, slamming the door behind her.

I make it to class, though between Finn and fighting with Mandy, I can hardly focus. When Dr. Reams asks to speak to me afterward, I steel myself for another argument. Surely, surely Mandy hasn’t gotten the news about me and Finn to Dr. Reams? Not this quickly, anyway. I slide into the chair across from Dr. Reams’ desk and wait patiently as he rustles through files and folders on his desk.

Dr. Reams has a sort of Beautiful Mind vibe to him; tweed jackets, wire-rimmed glasses, and an office that seems to be decorated in yellows and grays and beiges, like its entire contents are made of paper. He also, however, has an aging frat boy vibe to him; look closely, and you’ll see that the sepia tone photos are actually old newspaper articles about Harton’s winning football seasons, and that the paisley tie he’s wearing is little Harton “H”s all fancied up. If there’s such a thing as a football nerd, Dr. Reams is absolutely the biggest one.

I’m always nervous until Dr. Reams begins talking. The situation with Finn makes me only more so.

“Alright, Kenley, let’s see,” Dr. Reams says, opening his laptop and scrolling through something. It’s his email— I can see the screen reflected in his glasses. My stomach clenches. Did Mandy really email him or mom? She wouldn’t. Dr. Reams is scrolling, scrolling, scrolling— “Here we go.” He looks up at me and doesn’t smile, though to be fair, he never smiles. “I received an email today from Finn Thorne’s mathematics professor. He had a pop quiz this morning. He failed.”

“Oh! Well, we haven’t… I mean, my instructions were that he had to pass his first test. No one alerted me to the possibility of a pop quiz,” I say, fighting to keep a straight face.

“Hence the term ‘pop quiz’.”

“I’m just getting started with him,” I say, voice floundering as I try hard not to remember Finn’s cock in my mouth— stop it Kenley stop stop stop. “He will be fully prepared for his first major test, which, if I recall correctly, counts for forty percent of his grade.”

“I know he’s something of a troubled boy, what with his past in Florida and all, but you need to get him through the course,” Dr. Reams says. “I’m collecting applications for my summer program early this year, by the way, should you want to go ahead and start preparing yours.” It’s a reminder what’s at stake, and my stomach flips.

“I’m happy to,” I say, nodding. “Thanks for letting me know about the quiz.”

“These football players…I’m glad they’re good at the game, but I know they can be a challenge off the field. That’s why it’s so important to stick to a routine and a schedule, lest we run into more…arresting problems.”

“Right,” I say, ignoring his terrible joke while simultaneously grateful that it effectively shoved the memories of Finn out of my head.

“That’s all,” Dr. Reams says. “I’ll be collecting applications before the Thanksgiving holiday. I know how badly you want a spot in the program.”

“I do. Thanks so much, Dr. Reams. And let me know about Finn’s future test scores?”

“Naturally. His first exam is next Monday, as I’m sure you know, so do keep that in mind,” Dr. Reams says, and dismisses me by turning back to his computer screen.

I leave the room, feeling somewhat calmed. Dr. Reams doesn’t know anything about our hookup.

My phone is vibrates in my pocket. I lift it and see and unknown number— no way am I answering. As I’m walking home from class, a text from the same number appears.

We’re having a session today, right?

It’s Finn. I feel my stomach clench with the memory of how hard I came last night. My neck grows hot as I answer.

We do.

I realize I’ve gone still, standing like a statue in the middle of a busy campus sidewalk— but I don’t much care. When Finn responds, I press my lips together hungrily. Excitedly.

Meet me at the Ansley Park house. Now.

I take an Uber to the Ansley Park house, because that’s how fast I want to get there— who has time for public transit in this type of situation? I feel my stomach twisting with nerves, though I don't know why, exactly. What’s there to be nervous about? Nothing, really, save the fact that I’ll actually implode with excitement before I arrive.

When I arrive I feel almost delirious with anticipation.

“You got here fast,” he says, opening the front door.

Seeing him again after last night makes me feel girly and scramble-y and generally freaked out. It makes the whole thing real in a way that even waking up in his bed didn’t.