She sent back a string of laughing emojis.
Maria: I thought he was helping you study.
Me: He was for a bit. Mostly he sleeps and eats my food.
Maria: Need me to come save you?
The thought was tempting. But I wasn’t about to have her make the drive from Atlanta to Athens.
Me: I’ll survive. He may not.
Heart emojis filled my screen and were followed by a picture of Jewel gnawing on a washcloth.
Maria: You got this.
I wasn’t so sure. Finals had me questioning everything. Sure, my grades were good. Great, if I’m being honest. But this was different. Just one more week. One more God-awful, grueling week under fluorescent lights that made my head hurt. Then I was back home. And a sophomore. One step closer to my dream.Speaking of…I dragged my laptop closer to me and checked to see if Hannah had replied to my email. She was old-fashioned like that.
About a week ago, during Introduction to Entrepreneurship, the gears in my head had started spinning like a cracked-out gerbil on a wheel. So, I asked Hannah,“Do I need a business plan now, or can I wait until I’m closer to launching? I know what I want it to look like in my head, but right now it’s just…floating around. Not on paper.”
Hannah’s response was blunt, something I could appreciate.“If it’s only in your head, it’s still just a wish. Write it down. Plans don’t have to be pretty; they just have to exist.”
I had just started to reply when my phone buzzed.
Jackson: What did he do now?
Me: Oh, so you don’t deny him being your spy.
Jackson: Spy. Bodyguard. Whatever. What’d he do?
Me: Well, now I’m not telling.
Jackson: Malibu.
In a fit of playfulness not like me, I sent back a tongue out emoji.
Jackson: Careful. Some guys might think you’re flirting.
My face went nuclear. If embarrassment were flammable, the whole damn room would’ve gone up in smoke. I tossed my phone down and went back to studying. Or pretended to. Suddenly focusing was impossible.
I buried myself in books, half-studying, half-replaying that stupid message comment in my head. Finals week turned into a blur of caffeine jitters, selective amnesia wishes, and enough Oreos to qualify as a food group. The exams ended, but the anxiety didn’t. I refreshed the school portal so many times I was half-convinced I’d crash the server. And I kept eyeing my phone like it might bite me, but the day of my last final came and went.Dalton helpfully informed me that the teachers usually uploaded end-of-semester grades all at once. Which made me want to report college as a hate crime.
The grades hit my screen like fireworks. I blinked, reread, blinked again. Passed. Every class. And two of them? As.A choked laugh escaped before it turned into a shout, half-scream, half-triumph. I spun around my tiny apartment like an idiot, nearly tripping over a stack of books I’d been stress-sleeping on. Proof. I wasn’t crazy for trying. I wasn’t doomed to fail.I had a shot.
Maria was the first person I texted.
Me: School’s out, babeeee. Your girl is officially free and smarter than she looks. Hot mess incoming.
My cheeks ached from smiling. I threw on a jacket, ran a brush through my hair, and headed for the door like a prisoner out on bail. The air outside was sharp with early summer, thick with honeysuckle, the kind of night that hummed with possibility.
And then I froze.
Because parked beside Sally was a motorcycle I knew too well.
Matte black, chrome catching the sunlight. My pulse skipped. And leaning against it, like he’d stepped straight out of one of my daydreams and into my parking lot, was a Marine with storm-gray eyes and a grin that dared me to breathe.
“On leave,” Jackson said, casual like he hadn’t just detonated my universe. He held up a second helmet, tilting it toward me. “Just for a bit before I get orders. Let’s go for a ride.”
I snorted, crossing my arms to hide the way my hands shook. “On that death trap? Not a chance. I like my bones inside of me, thanks.”
