I’m not sure what I’m expecting. Maybe I’m not expecting anything at all. I learned better. But still, I’m surprised when Grant simply nods.
“Okay. I can do that.”
“Oh,” is the only thing I can think to say. “That’s good.”
“Before that, though.” His chest meets the edge of the table, leaning in towards the middle. “Could we talk about the other assignment? The one we actually did together?”
I suck in a breath.
When Rosie and I debriefed last night, we came back to this too. What am I going to do, or say, when the topic of the final comes back around?
There are a lot of things to say if I let the anger get the better of me. There’s a notebook somewhere in the depths of my desk, with a few pages covered in not-so-nice words I dedicated to him.
Indulging in those frustrations will take me back to square one. I don’t want to risk this going awry, and I don’t need to rehash things that already take too much of my mind.
I wave my hand at him. “I don’t want to talk about it.” I pull my laptop out of my tote bag and place it amongst my organized notebooks and papers. “The assignment is too important. I can’t waste time talking about what happened to us in the past.”
“Waste time?” He repeats, his tone raising on the last syllable. “I want us to talk it out. I want to tell you my side of the story.”
My fingers twitch in annoyance. I needed to hear his side in the past, but now I can’t concern myself with anything but getting a passing grade.
I groan. I’m begging for mediocrity when I used to be a star student. I’ve fallen further than I ever thought I would.
“Please, Grant. I need to focus on getting past this assignment and this class.” I swallow my pride, leaving a sinking feeling in my stomach. “It’s bad. I’m about to fail.”
“Fail?” His eyes widen. I find interest in the wood of the table and avoid looking at him.
“Yeah.”
“But you’re a good student. You aced everything in our comms class. You never missed a lecture.”
My hand shoots up to stop him. “Please, I’m mortified enough. I’m more than aware of how much of a disappointment I’ve become.”
“You’re not a disappointment.”
I stay focused on the table’s surface. They’re pity words. Rosie affords them to me on a bi-daily basis. They’re hard to believe when my results show differently.
“I don’t want to talk about it. Previous failures won’t matter as long as I pass in the end, anyways. Let’s focus on that.”
For a moment, Grant stays still-faced, his mouth downturned in confusion. When the silence starts to stretch further between us, he talks.
“Of course. Whatever you need from me.”
It’s the best thing he’s said to me in a long time.
“Perfect.”
“Whatdoyou need from me, though?”
“Oh.” I probably should have mentioned this part to him at the café. There’s a chance he didn’t bring his textbooks with him today. Then I’d have to see him again and I’m not sure if I can do this twice. “Your textbooks. Do you have them?”
The large gray backpack he’s had for as long as I’ve known him appears from under his seat, dropping onto the table with a thud. “Most of them. Why?”
“Uh.” It’s going to sound like I’ve watched what he’s been reading at his window table. Because that’s what Kam’s been doing, and truthfully, I’m just copying the weird suggestions he comes up with while staring at Grant with heart eyes.
That’s too much to explain. Too embarrassing to admit that my coworker and I talk about him behind the counter.
I try to sound skeptical and not like I’ve been flipping this idea in my head for days.
