Authors: Rachael Brownell
“He wasn’t that bad. I’ve heard he’s a pretty good professor, just not very personal.”
“I’d have to agree with that statement. He’s not personal at all. I was hoping for a little clarification on the essay he wants us to write for next time we meet.”
“It sounds pretty simple to me. Five hundred words all about you. I get to listen to you tell me everything I don’t already know.” Grant is attempting to be funny but there’s something else in his voice that I catch as well. I can’t put my finger on what it is, though.
“I’m not as interesting as you make me sound. Plus, you know more about me than I know about you at this point.” I pause, not knowing what else to say. Class is over and I need to head to school so that I’m not late for lunch with Libby and the other girls. I have to try and remember their names before I get there. “Well, I guess I’ll see you in a few days.”
“Are you hungry?” Grant ask as I pull my bag onto my shoulder.
I weigh my options before answering him. I told Libby I would meet up with her. Looking down at my watch I figure I can make it back to campus before lunch ends if I eat quickly and don’t lose track of time. “Sure.”
Grant holds the door open for me as we enter the cafe on campus. I order coffee and a muffin, something small since my stomach just dropped at the thought of being alone with Grant.
“So-o,” I stutter. “What’s your story?”
“What do you want to know exactly? I don’t want to just blurt out random facts.”
“What’s your favorite color?” Lame. Is that the best I can come up with?
“Dark brown. You?”
“Gray.” I want to say hazel, but I think it would be obvious why. “Favorite food?”
“Pizza. You?”
“French fries. From …”
“Raleigh. You?”
“Everywhere.” This peaks his curiosity. His left eyebrow shoots up in question so I elaborate. “My father is a Marine, so we’ve lived a lot of places and now we live here. Favorite sport?”
“Football. You?”
“Football. Favorite team?”
“Cowboys.”
“Me too,” I yell before he can ask.
We continue to fire questions at each other as we eat. Like I feared, I lose track of time and arrive back to school only minutes before class is starting. Libby is at my locker waiting for me when I stop to grab my books.
“I was worried about you. Is everything okay?”
To hear her say that she was worried surprises me. No one ever worries about me. I take care of myself; I have for a long time now. “Sorry. I got hung up at school.”
I want to tell her about Grant, but I’m not sure I feel comfortable talking about him just yet. Plus, how would I even explain him to her? A guy I met the night of Grandma’s funeral and I keep running into around town. I think he’s interesting and funny and sexy as hell, but he’s probably too old for me and will go running for the hills when he finds out that I’m only seventeen. I don’t like any of those explanations.
“What’s his name?” Libby’s voice pulls me out of my internal monolog.
“Huh?”
“Yeah. So, what’s his name?” Libby asks again only this time, her hand is on her hip and her lips are pursed in amusement.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re smiling at me, but not paying attention to a single thing I’m saying. You met someone. Who is he and what’s his name? I want details.” The volume of Libby’s voice rises slightly and people are starting to stare as they walk by. I’m going to have to start calling her Loud Libby because I don’t think she knows how to turn the volume down.
The bell rings, saving me from Libby’s inquisition. For now. She programs her number in my phone, calls herself, and then promises to call me when she gets home from work tonight to get all the details.
I have a few hours to decide what I want to tell her and what I don’t. Until then, I have to figure out a way to concentrate on class and not Grant’s gorgeous face, which is all I can think about right now. I’m still reeling from our conversation at lunch. I learned more about him in an hour than I have anyone else in the last five years at least, and I want to know more. I want to know everything there is to know about him.
My phone rings and I know that it’s Libby even before I look at the caller ID. She promised to call as soon as she got out of work, and her shift ended less than five minutes ago. I still haven’t decided how much I want to tell her.
“Hello?”
“It’s Libby. Start talking, sister. I want to know everything. Starting with what he looks like,” she demands immediately.
“Okay. He’s tall, hazel eyes, shaggy brownish-blond hair. Muscular. Um …”
“How tall is tall?” she asks, cutting me off.
“I don’t know. Maybe around six feet, a little taller.”
“Does his hair look good on him or does it need to be cut?” What kind of question is that?
“I think it looks good on him. It’s not unkempt or anything, just a little longer. Shaggy was a bad word, I guess. How was work?” I attempt to shift the conversation to her, crossing my fingers that she’ll fall for it.
“Not a chance. Where is he from?”
Ugh. I don’t really want to talk about Grant with her. I barely know him. Wait! She hasn’t asked his name yet. Maybe I can at least keep that from her for now. I wonder if she knows him. She takes classes at the college too. What if he’s in one of her classes? I would die of embarrassment if she ever talked about me with him.
“Raleigh,” I answer after I hear her clear her throat on the other end of the line.
“Big city boy. Okay, one last question and this is the most important one. Does he have a brother that is as cute or cuter than him so we can double date?”
Laughter escapes me before I have a chance to hold back. I hear Libby hollering at me, but I can’t help myself. It takes me a minute to pull myself together before I can answer her. “I’m sorry, Libby, but he’s an only child.”
“Damn it. He needs to have a hot friend then. I want a boyfriend, too,” Libby whines.
“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a friend.”
“For now, but when you guys start dating, and you will, then I’ll be left alone or I’ll be the third wheel. No one likes to be the third wheel.”
“I promise you won’t be the third wheel, and I promise that I won’t ditch you to hang out with him. I’m sure he has a friend or we can always find you someone. Isn’t there anyone at school that you like?”
“No. They all suck. The ones that are decent are all taken. The rest only want to date you for your money. I hate that shit.” You can hear the detest in her voice. I haven’t had much interaction with the guys in our school yet and I don’t plan to have much.
My plan was to not have interaction with any guys this year. I’ll be leaving for college soon and don’t want to complicate my life by leaving behind a boyfriend. Grant is different, though. I feel like he’s worth a chance. There’s something about him. I can’t put my finger on it, but I feel like he’s worth fighting for.
“We’ll find you someone. I have to let you go, though. I have an essay to write for my Creative Writing class and a ton of other homework too. I’ll catch you tomorrow morning. Meet in the parking lot? I’ll let you drag my ass in to school.”
“Deal. Later.” Libby hangs up before I have a chance to say goodbye.
She’s an interesting character. I’ve met all sorts of people throughout my travels and she is the most outgoing and outspoken person yet. She says whatever is on her mind, loudly. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know how to filter her thoughts. Hanging out with her outside of school should be interesting.
Shaking all thoughts of Libby and Grant from my mind, I start working on my homework. I focus on the essay first and then Chemistry before wrapping up with Trigonometry. The school here is slightly behind where I was in my last school. I’ve covered most of the material already, which will only help my final grades if the colleges I’ve already talked to decide to take a look at them again.
***
Libby is waiting for me when I pull in the parking lot the next morning. She’s wearing a short skirt and a barely-there top. If she’s trying to make a statement, she’s making one. There has to be a reason she’s dressed like this. The last two days she’s worn jeans and a casual top, nothing this revealing. What really catches my eye are her shoes—cowboy boots similar to the ones I found the day I met her.
“Looking good, Lib.” I lay on the sarcasm thick to make sure that she doesn’t miss it.
“Thanks.” I wait for her to elaborate on her look. She doesn’t so I’m going to have to probe for information.
“What’s the occasion?”
“No occasion. Just wanted to dress up a little.” Judging by the look on her face, she’s dead serious.
I laugh. This is not dressing up. “You would have to put on more clothes to be considered dressed in my opinion.”
Looking down at her outfit, Libby frowns. “Well, how else am I going to find a boyfriend?”
“Not by showing off all your goods. Just be you. If he doesn’t like you for who you are then he’s not worth it. Who’s the special guy, anyway?”
“I don’t know yet. I haven’t met him. When I do, though, I want him to be interested.”
“Dressed like that,” I say, motioning to her outfit, or lack thereof, “he’ll notice you and be interested, but not in you. He’ll want to see what you have covered and that’s about it.”
“Well, what do you think I should do?”
“I already told you. You need to just be you. Do you have a change of clothes in your car?”
“Yeah,” she replies. “I’ll grab them and meet you after first period.”
Hanging her head in defeat, Libby turns and walks back toward her car. True to her word, she is waiting for me between classes. She’s changed into a pair of jeans and a cute blouse. She looks adorable. I’m sure she was hoping for something more along the lines of sexy, if her outfit earlier was any indication.
“Much better,” I say as I approach. “I’m glad you kept the boots. They’re cute as hell.”
“Thanks.”
“So what was this morning really about?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to get noticed and I have my college classes this afternoon. I ransacked the store last night looking for the sluttiest thing I could find to wear today. I should have known it was a bad idea.” Shame drips off of each word as she speaks.
“Well, I don’t think you looked like a slut at all. You looked hot! I do think that this is more you, though. I would hate for you to get involved with a guy that’s not really interested in who you really are.”
“True. I guess I knew better, but my insecurities got the best of me. Apparently Jason saw me in the parking lot this morning and started telling his buddies how hot I looked.” There’s a small smile spreading across her face, a little pink in her cheeks.
“Who’s this Jason guy? Do you want him to like you?” I ask, intrigued.
“Not really. He’s only interested in dating a girl for her money. It doesn’t surprise me that he said something. It was nice to be noticed, but I think you’re right. He was probably only interested in me for what he thought he might get out of me, not for me.”
“Well, screw him then. Not literally, of course.” We both giggle at the thought.
The bell rings and we part ways until lunch. At lunch Libby invites me to the football game with her Friday night. I promise to let her know as soon as I ask my father if I can go. I haven’t seen much of him this week. He’s been spending the majority of his time on base and coming home long after I’m in bed, according to Eloise. I’ll have to wait up for him tonight if I wanna catch him.
***
Today’s the big day. I take extra time to ensure my hair looks great. My outfit is comfortable yet dressy. In less than an hour class starts and I’m going to have to stand up and read my essay in front of everyone. I kept it short and sweet, only covering the highlights of my life. I left out the bad parts and focused on the things I’ve experienced as a military kid. No mention of my mother. No mention of losing Grandma. Talking about either might make me an emotional wreck.
Staring at myself in the mirror, I look ready to take on anything. Thinking about Grant sitting in his seat, listening to me talk about myself, I start to get nervous. Nerves or not, I have to get up there and speak. Each assignment is a portion of our grade, and I plan on earning a good grade in my first college class.
I practice my speech while I drive, missing the entrance to the campus parking lot. After turning around and finding a spot, I rush to the classroom, determined to save Grant a seat today. I’m the first to arrive, so I snag two desks in the back of the room and wait.
As everyone starts to pile in, I realize that I’m not going to be able to save his seat much longer. I remove my bag and an older woman takes the seat almost immediately. When the professor walks in and announces the start of class, my heart falls. Grant’s not here. Why?
I can’t call him and ask. I can’t text him to see if he’s on his way. It’ll be Tuesday before I see him again if he doesn’t show up. Is he sick? Did his car break down? Something has to be wrong. He was intrigued to learn more about me. At least, that’s what he led me to believe.
I give my speech with less gusto that originally planned. My spirit is crushed. Grant never shows up to class, and because of that, I make it back to school with plenty of time to spare before lunch. Sitting in my car, I rack my brain. I run through our entire conversation on Tuesday and think back on his demeanor as we went our separate ways. He seemed fine. He seemed like he enjoyed our conversation. He even said he’d see me today. So where the hell was he? The fact that I won’t know if he’s okay until Tuesday will drive me crazy over the weekend.
I’m already falling for this guy and I’ve only talked to him a few times. That concerns me. I don’t know any of the important things about his life. I asked stupid questions at lunch the other day when I should have dug a little deeper. Maybe he’s a crazy stalker or something. I have run into him in the most random places. Maybe he’s a serial killer?
Really, Madison?
I need to stop watching crime dramas at night before bed. I need to stop watching them all together, probably. My imagination is getting the best of me. He seems like a nice guy. He’s funny and interesting, and for now, that’s all that matters. I’m going to assume he’s come down with a cold or something. I’ll see him on Tuesday and find out for sure.
Thankfully, Libby is focused on her own life at lunch and doesn’t notice my sour mood. As the last bell rings, signaling the end of the school day, I breathe a sigh of relief. I want to go home and spend some quality time with myself. I only have a little homework and should be able to finish it before dinner time. Then, I plan to head over to the base, Cherry Point, and find my father. Tomorrow night is the football game and I would like to go if he’ll allow it.
I’m surprised to find his SUV sitting in the driveway when I arrive home. Entering the house, I hear him yelling from down the hall. Heading in that direction, I find my father in the den, on his phone. His back is to me so he doesn’t notice my arrival. I’m about to clear my throat when he yells again at the person on the other end of the line.
“I don’t care who you have to clear it with, I want this house transferred to my name before the close of business Wednesday. You have one week. Figure it out, Finch!”
My father ends the call and tosses his phone on the desk. I wait a few beats before speaking, unsure of what I want to say. He’s trying to take the house away from me. He’s essentially stealing it from me. He has no right to do so. It wasn’t left to him. Grandma wanted me to have it for a reason.
Backing slowly out of the room, I decide not to say anything right now. Anger is coursing through my veins and nothing productive will come from a conversation with him right now. I’ll address the issue later. Right now, I’m going to head to my room and decompress.
I hear my father call me an hour later. He’s standing at the bottom of the stairs with his hands on his hips, looking irritated with me. “I didn’t know you were home. I need to speak with you.”
“I’m working on my homework right now.” A lie. I was lying on my bed staring at my ceiling, thinking about Grant.
“Dinner will be ready in an hour. I expect you to be finished so that we can talk.”
“Yes, sir.” I turn to head back to my room when I hear him clear his throat. “Is there anything else?” I ask, turning back toward him.
“No. It can wait.” He turns and disappears into the living room before I have a chance to respond. He always has to have the last word. It’s almost as if it’s a personal challenge for him.
Eloise knocks softly on my door exactly an hour later and announces that dinner is ready. Marking my spot, I toss the book I was reading on my bed and head downstairs for what will surely be the most interesting meal I’ve had in weeks. I can’t imagine that my father is going to confess his sins over meatloaf. I could be wrong, but knowing him, more than likely not.
“Father,” I state dryly as I enter the dining room and take a seat as far from him as possible. My place setting is to his left but when Eloise sees that I won’t be sitting in that chair, she rushes to move everything before serving my father and then me.