“You don’t need to wait with me. It’s daylight. There are plenty of people around. I’m safe here.”
He puts his arm on the back of the bench behind me and settles in.
I glance at his profile and smile. “I appreciate your calm this morning. It’s helpful.”
He nods, and I turn to sit sideways on the bench to face him. My hand rises to rest against his face and rubs his whiskers.
“Last night…” I whisper.
That draws his gaze.
“Was really great.”
“Agreed,” he says with a smile. After a beat, he adds, “Unexpectedly didactic.”
I laugh softly. “Next time, you could tell me to ask Google my questions.”
“That falls into the category ofnever.”
My hand drops to his thigh, and I squeeze his leg gently before withdrawing my hand and setting it on my tote.
When people start to arrive, I stand, and he does as well. “No PDA. Let’s save the good stuff for when we’re alone.”
“As usual,” he murmurs with a smirk. He walks to the door and opens it for me. “If I stay to watch will that rattle you or provide moral support?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly.
“I’ll sit in back. If you want me to leave, signal me by tapping your wrist like it’s time.”
“Okay.” I squeeze his hand before walking past him and entering the lecture hall.
Professor Smith-Hall is already onstage, and he suggests everyone move down front. The class does, but Shane stays where he is. I glance back twice and decide I’m glad he’s there.
Daniel sits directly behind me and leans forward. “Thanks for sending the latest version of the presentation. It’s good.”
“Did you hear from Todd? He’s said nothing. Not even that he got it.”
“No, haven’t heard from him.”
I roll my eyes. Radio silence from Todd for days. And now he hasn’t even bothered to show up. Unprofessional, passive-aggressive bullshit.
Smith-Hall begins talking, and I immediately turn to face forward. We’re starting.
He flashes the list of presenters, and I’m fifth of eight.
The first few presentations fly by. They’re pretty boring, in large part because the speakers aren’t dynamic. They all probably lack stage training. At least my pageant time should help with something.
When it’s my turn to present, I stand onstage staring out at the dark auditorium. For ten seconds, my mind is blank, and my heart kicks into high gear. Then my slides load, and an old polaroid snapshot of a dandelion appears. The story I plan to start with comes flooding back.
There you are.
I face my audience but don’t see them. When I speak, it’s exactly as I rehearsed, complete with meaningful pauses and expressive gestures. My energy rises at the end, partly from relief and partly because I’m excited. I know it’s gone well.
The applause is enthusiastic, but my attention goes to Smith-Hall. He’s smiling as he makes some notes on his tablet.
When I leave the stage, I move to the second row and sit next to Daniel.
“That was fantastic! Well done,” he says.
