“Did you forget something?” Sunny asks as I stop at a red light.
“No? Maybe? What did I forget?” I frantically look around and then pat down my body looking for a missed necessity. Just as I’m about to ask again what the hell she thinks I forgot, Sunny pulls a hairbrush out of her backpack and offers it to me. “Please don’t go out in public with your hair like that.”
“Like what?!” I scoff, but quickly clamp my mouth shut when I see the half-fallen messy bun in the rearview mirror. How did I miss that?
Traffic is thankfully not backed up yet, so I get Sunny to school right before the tardy bell rings.
“Keep the brush,” she says, opening the door to hop out before I’ve fully stopped.
“Love you! See you tonight! Skye is picking you up today.” I yell out the window as she jogs toward the school. She doesn’t look back or say anything, just sticks her arm in the air and gives me a thumbs up before slipping inside the front door.
My class begins in ten minutes and I’m twenty minutes away, more if traffic sucks. I cannot believe this. I’m thirty years old. I thought I had my crap together and now I can’t even make it to class on time on THE FIRST DAY OF THE SEMESTER.
I try to maintain the speed limit on my way to campus, changing lanes more than usual to weave through traffic. I saw a study once that said weaving actually makes traffic move slower, but my brain isn’t functioning well enough to remember that right now.
“Come on, come on, come on.” I’m literally two blocks away from my destination and this red light is taking forever to change. Class began ten minutes ago, and I still have to park and walk to class — oh, and fix my hair. So much for makeup. Don’t have time for that now. I really hope I can sneak in quietly and find a seat in the back.
The light turns green — finally — and a few minutes later I’m parked and jogging across the parking lot toward class. It has to be ninety degrees outside already and my hair tie broke when I wrestled it out of my nest, so my now-frizzy, but brushed, mop of blonde hair hangs loose down my back as sweat builds on my skin.
This blouse is thin and will most likely stick to my skin when I slow down. At least I wore deodorant — wait, I did put on deodorant, right? Yes. Yes, I did. Ok, so I shouldn’t have pit sweat but who knows what my back and underboob will look like. I can’t think about this right now. Where is my class again? I stop and look around, realizing I passed the English building while lost in my thoughts of sweat-soaked clothing. I spin on my heel and jog up the stairs, looking at my feet to ensure I don’t trip on my way to the front door.
Smack. I crash into someone and start to fall back down the stairs when a strong arm wraps around me, pulling me back up andsteadying me on my feet. Thank God I’m not running with a drink in hand.
“Whoa now, you ok?” His words don’t register because all I can smell is sandalwood and spruce.Heaven. “Alis?” Wait. I know that voice. I know this smell. Dexter. Oh, fuck me.Yes, please do.No!
I take a step back and brush my hair from my face. “Hi, Dr. Belanger. Sorry I ran into you. Literally.” I look up at him from beneath my lashes, suddenly thankful for the heat because my sweat-flushed skin hides my embarrassment.
“No worries. You ok?” He asks, his eyes are concerned, but he still manages to aim that sexy half-smile right at me.
Am I ok? No, I am not ok. I’m late for class, my hair looks like I’ve been electrocuted, it’s so freaking hot outside that I’m sure I have underboob sweat staining my shirt, and the one man I want and can’t have is now all up in my space.
“Yeah, sorry again. I have to get to class.” I smile, awkwardly, and scoot around him to pull open the door and head into the building. I find the directory on the wall near the elevator and see that my class is on the first floor, but I swear the hallways on this map look more like a maze than a grid. I find the room number and trace the hallway route with my eyes before walking deeper into the labyrinth, hoping and praying I don’t get lost and make myself even more late than I already am.
Five minutes and two wrong turns later, I peer through the glass window on the classroom door and see my professor is turned around writing something on the whiteboard. I open the door as slowly and quietly as possible and slip in, looking to my left and then right to hopefully find an open seat near the door. Ah-hah! I find one in the second row from the back and slide into the aisle, whispering “sorry” and “excuse me” before plopping down into the open seat and lifting up the desk attachment. The professor is still writing on the board and I don’t think he heard me, so I should be in the clear.
Everyone around me seems to be copying whatever the professor writes, so I reach into my bag, grab a notebook, and search for a pen to follow suit. When my fingers fail to find one, I hear a tap on theside of my desk and look up to see the guy next to me offering one of his extras.
“Thank you,” I mouth with a friendly smile before looking back to the front of the class. The professor turns and continues his lecture, none the wiser about my late arrival.At least something went right this morning.
Thirty minutes later class ends and I’m scribbling down the last bullet point from the board when I hear, “Miss Gilmore, a word.” I close my eyes.Of course. Nothing can go right today.
I look up toward my professor and smile stiffly. “Of course, sir.”
I pack up my belongings and slide my bag over my shoulder before walking down the auditorium-style classroom to apologize for my tardiness. “Dr. —” I don’t even finish saying his name when he cuts me off.
“I don’t tolerate tardiness in my classroom. This is a graduate-level course and you’ve been in school long enough to manage time appropriately and arrive on time. See that it doesn’t happen again.” He stops talking and looks back down at the papers in front of him, and I’m not sure if I should respond or wait for him to say more? After ten seconds of silence I’m about to speak up when he looks back up at me and says, “Is there something you wish to say?”
I stand there with wide eyes, my mouth opening and closing like a fish. “I, uh, I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”
He nods once and looks back down at his papers. I guess I’m dismissed? I turn and make my exit, feeling like a scolded child. I don’t know whether I’m more embarrassed or annoyed, but my stomach flips and I kind of want to throw up after that interaction. Awesome. I was just reprimanded by a professor on my first day back to college.
What am I even doing here? Am I too old for this?I had a good life back in Moraine. I liked my job, I knew everyone around me, Sunny was happy and content, and I didn’t even have to pay rent because we lived with my parents. I shake my head and let out a breath as I push open the door and step into the hallway.
Before I can sink deeper into my internal tale of woe, someonetouches my arm and says, “Hey.” I look up and see pen guy from class smiling at me. Was he waiting for me? Surely not. This guy is like twenty-two, tops.
“Uh, hi,” I say, reaching for the pen in the side pocket of my bag. I offer it back to him. “Thanks for the pen save. All mine decided to become hide and seek champions today.”
He smiles and nods. “Keep it.” Um, okay. I’m not one to turn down a perfectly good pen,thankyouverymuch. I slide it back into my bag and thank him as I turn to walk back through the maze of hallways to the exit.
