So, I willfully ignored common sense and listened to Professor Ida’s list of dates for potential office hours. If I learned anything in life, it was that if the perfect opportunity fell in your lap, you don’t hesitate, instead you grab on to it and hope for the best.
Chapter 1
Covee
I’m not coming back,I decided as soon as my therapist, Haley - a small graduate student with red hair and pink lips - walked me to the front desk. Our session felt like a colossal waste of time. The gradual growing prick of loneliness that haunted me throughout the entirety of this semester still lingered in my stomach. Every lit candle and deep breath I shared with Haley seemed like band-aids on cracked asphalt.
“It was wonderful meeting you, Covee,” Haley said with a beaming smile and an offered hand. “See you soon?”
We stopped in the Counselling Center lobby. The walls were a shade of tan that made me feel like I was drowning in sand. There were hand written prints that decorated nearly every available inch of space in the room. Phrases like: ‘You are powerful, You are brave, You are not alone,’ baited me earlier while I waited in the cushy lounge chair. Before my session started, the words seemed hopeful, after my appointment, they were silly.
Those posters were the hopes and dreams of healthy people. For me, the posters were reminders that I didn’t belong, I was a coward and I was on my own.
I shook Haley’s hand while trying to keep a smile on my face. The lie fell off my lips with ease from years of practice, “Yeah, see you soon.”
“Margot will schedule your next appointment,” Haley turned her attention away from me and towards the student volunteer. Her face fell when she noticed the girl scrolling through her phone. “Right, Margot?”
“Right,” Margot, a thick girl with a buzz cut and nose ring confirmed. She quickly removed her feet from the desk. “Got the schedule right here.”
“Perfect.” Haley gave me a final wave before heading back down the hall to prep for her next student.
“So, is the same time next week okay?” Margot questioned as she leaned back in her seat and replaced her feet on the desk. Her hand ran across her shaven head as she watched me.
I pressed my lips together, inwardly debating on how I was going to phrase my avoidance. “Same time doesn’t work for me.”
Margot shrugged and directed her attention back to her phone. She didn’t look up when she said, “We’ve got plenty of other times. Give me a range and I’ll narrow things down.”
I opened my mouth but paused, distracted by a buzzing in my back pocket. The alarm was titled,Office Hours. I could feel tension in my shoulders pinching my back like a crab. Great, another thing I forgot to worry about. I was losing track of where to be and how to be. The days blended with each other and looked foggy whenever I replayed the events in my mind.
“Actually,” I said while waving my phone around as my excuse. “I have a meeting. I’ll reschedule this… over the phone?”
Margot gave me a one-shoulder shrug completely disinterested. “Sure, whatever.”
“Thanks,” I said and hurried out of the orange-bricked counselling center. The building sat on the edge of Westbrooke University’s campus, nearly hidden as if mental health was an afterthought to whoever created the campus’ blueprint. My meeting with Professor Ida would take place in the Digital Arts building - on the opposite side of school.
Making the trek across campus during the afternoon felt near impossible. I should have known better than to schedule meetings back to back. No matter how desperate I’d been to talk to someone, I should have waited for therapy. School assignments and papers waited for no one.
I carefully dodged students who all seemed to have wide smiles and large groups of friends. Everyone was dressed in mid-fall attire: fluffy sweaters, plaid jackets, and dark boots. The crowd swallowed me whole as I tugged my thin grey cardigan around my soft middle. I was underdressed but the weather would warm soon enough. At least, I hoped because my funds were dwindling from my last grocery run.
A few people bumped my shoulder while we battled to get to our destination. Some of them voiced hurriedly, “I’m sorry’s” while most continued forward without so much as a glance. By the time I entered the Digital Arts building, my lips were chapped from the cold and my shoulders sore from the shoving.
“Hi -” I greeted in a breathless voice when I reached Professor Ida’s open door. I stopped abruptly when I saw a guy sitting across from her. Like Ida, he looked up at the interruption. Unlike Ida, his eyes didn’t stop at my face. He wore no expression as his eyes trailed along my body. His gaze lingered on my neck and then shoulders, as if he was looking for something he knew was there.
“Sorry,” I told the professor after recovering from the unexpected guest. “Am I too late? I could come back later…”
“Not at all,” Professor Ida motioned her thin fingers in the air for me to come in. “Perfect timing, actually. I’m glad I got to speak to Weston first.”
I nodded and carefully sidestepped a backpack on the floor to claim the only other seat in the office. It creaked underneath my weight, making my skin warm. I carefully adjusted my shirt, suddenly self-conscious with Weston sitting next to me. Our chairs were a respectable distance apart, but I could still smell his fading cologne. His eyes weren’t on me anymore, but I still felt as if he was paying close attention to me. He shifted in his own seat, leaning on the armrest closest to me with his chin rested in his hand.
“I think I’ve outdone myself this time,” Professor Ida said while folding her hands on the desk. The wrinkles around her eyes deepened as she smiled widely.
My lips turned downward, confused. “I could wait outside if you two aren’t finished.”
“No, no. This has to do with your next design project,” Professor Ida insisted with a firm nod. “I’m assigning partners this year based on students’ portfolios and personalities.”
“And apparently,” Weston spoke up. His voice sounded rough and deep. He looked over at me as he finished, “We match up or we don’t. Depends on how you look at it.”
The frown didn’t leave from my lips. “Excuse me?”
