“Waylynn.” Oswald says my name so softly, I’m not convinced it’s out loud, but I answer him anyway.
“Yeah?” I feel his finger touch right beneath my chin, directing my head toward him. My eyes go from his brother’s to his. This close, I can see the deep flecks of blue in his light eyes. I feel fuzzy, like the moment right before you fall asleep when you feel like you’re tipping over the edge into darkness, but it’s warm and comforting.
The loud sound of a door slamming makes me jump, and the bubble around us pops, bringing everything back into harsh focus—the murmurings of people chatting around us, the squeaking of seats as people adjust, and the tapping of keys as they sign into their computers.
“Good morning,” Hilbrand calls loudly, and I blink several times before pulling my head back so Oswald is no longer touching me, and then I look toward the stage. Gravlin is seated nearly directly in front of me, but several rows down. I’m confident I could pick out the set of his shoulders anytime now, and I’m not so sure that’s a good thing. Why am I so enamored by these two?
Hilbrand gives some basic instructions about what she will be discussing, then she launches into a lecture. To be honest, my mind is split. I’m trying very hard to focus on what she’s talking about, but I’m still hyperaware of Oswald and every move he makes. I even catch myself staring at the back of Gravlin’s head instead of focusing on the teacher, but I’m still able to take notes on my computer. I just hope I’m not missing too much. Maybe I should be recording the class.
As Hilbrand finishes her lesson, she closes up a book on the lectern and curls her fingers over the front of the wood while staring out into the sea of students. I doubt she’ll know many of us by name at the end of the semester—how could she with such a large class? “I’m happy to see the activity on the class message boards.” She pauses. “However, Gravlin has mentioned an issue with the email contact form. I want to take a moment to reiterate a few things. First, emails sent through these channels are not private. Neither Mr. Gravlin nor I are under any guidelines that bar us from sharing the emails with the class or even making the email available to the advisory board. I suggest you take the time to look up professional email etiquette, or you might find yourself facing a harassment committee.
“Second, let’s address exactly what those emails should be. If you would like to schedule a tutoring session with myself or my TA, you may do so through the contact form. We are both very busy and our time is not free.” She pauses briefly and looks around the room, gauging the group. “If you need to inform us of an extended absence for a medical issue or any other reason, or if you are dropping the class, please contact us.Thoseare things we may need to know. What we do not need to waste time answering are questions asking about our office hours and when drop-in times are available. You can find that and many other important details on the syllabus already provided to you. Lastly…”
She sighs, making me feel like she doesn’t want to say whatever she is about to tell us. “This is one of the many courses required to get any degree this university offers. If you do not want to pay for this class again, I suggest you don’t treat it like Tinder. Any questions?”
There are a few chuckles around us. They are not very far removed from high school, and it seems to be showing.
Feeling embarrassed by association, I pull my bag up from the floor and take out my phone so I can slide my laptop in. Oswald snatches my phone from my fingers and holds it near my face. I know the moment it unlocks because icons appear on the screen. “Hey,” I protest weakly, but he just flips it to face him and taps the phone button.
“Making sure you have my num…ber,” he stammers, then looks over at me when he sees his name already programmed into my contacts. “You didn’t call.” He sounds slightly bewildered and maybe even a little hurt.
I can feel heat rising up the back of my neck. I don’t know how to tell him I didn’t know what to say and there were times I questioned if it really happened the way I remember.
His lips thin as he looks down and thumbs my phone screen. I hear a vibration seconds later, and then he extends my phone back to me. When I look at the screen, there’s an empty green text bubble on the right side under his name.
I feel a looming presence on my other side, and I know without looking it’s going to be Gravlin. I turn slowly and peer up. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gravlin, it was an accident.” It flies from my mouth in a rush, referencing the first time I bumped into him.
His lips twitch before he looks around the room and says, “Don’t call me that.”
I mash my molars together and swallow the question burning my lips. What should I call him then?
“Ready for lunch, Waylynn?” Oswald asks.
I would agree to just about anything to get out of this room. “Yes.”
“Where are we going?” his brother interjects.
“How much time do you have before your next class?” Oswald questions, and I’m reeling from the rapidly changing events.
“I have math at two.”
“Plenty of time. Let’s go to Barney’s.” Oswald is looking over my head at his brother.
“Meet me in the parking lot.” Gravlin spins and bounces down the steps back to the stage.
“Ready?”
I glance away from Gravlin’s back to see Oswald already standing and holding my bag. “Um, I’ve got that.” I reach for my bag, but he pulls his shoulder back, evading my fingers.
“No,” is his simple reply, and I drop my arm. I should be worried that he has my computer, the keys to my house, and even my wallet, but I’m not and that’s weird. It’s not in my nature to trust so easily.
“I wouldn’t put it past him to leave us,” Oswald warns, and his urgency spurs me into action, even though I’m not worried about being left behind.
I back out of the row and head up the side aisle with him right behind me. When we reach the doors, I step to the side with the intention of following Oswald, because I have no idea where we are going. He passes me and opens the door, and it dawns on me that it looks like I was expecting the courtesy. “I wasn’t… I just didn’t know where to go.”
“Come on.” He tilts his head to the side, urging me to go ahead of him again. I dart out, and he quickens his step, catching up to me easily.
“I was planning on following you out,” I explain, but he just slowly shakes his head as if he thinks I’m being silly for saying it again. He has both of our bags slung over one shoulder as if the weight doesn’t bother him. I’m itching to take mine back, because I don’t want him thinking he has to carry my stuff. “I have a car, I can drive,” I offer instead.
