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“You mean the hot guy stared at you,” Bailey corrects. “What are you going to wear?” she asks eagerly.
“A baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants,” I tell her, moving to the bedroom.
“No,” Bailey gasps, jumping up to follow me. “Come on, Viv, try something cuter and see what he does, please,” she pleads.
“Don’t you have to get ready for work?” I ask.
“Yes,” she whines, then stamps her foot and heads to the bathroom.
“Hey Bails,” I call to her before she shuts the door.
She stops and turns to me, excitement all over her face. She seems ready to come and put me in a ball gown with just one word. “Yeah?”
“Did you get the mail today?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
“Just grocery flyers,” she says sadly. She too is waiting for replies on her own college applications.
“Okay,” I say, shrugging.
“It’s going to happen, Viv,” she states confidently. She stares at me until I look up. “It’s going to happen,” she repeats, firmer this time. I give her a slight smile and nod, and Bailey smiles back and shuts the door to get herself ready for work.
Bailey is a glass half-full girl, and I love her for it. After all she has been through, she still remains upbeat and happy. But me? I can’t shake the feeling my glass has never been half-full or half-empty, but bone dry. I love being around her positivity because it makes me happier, gives me a little hope and some peace, but I could never embrace it completely.
I dress as I had promised, in a baggy sweatshirt and fleece-lined sweatpants. The outfit choice is not totally based on the guy from class; it is also a comfort thing. It is predicted to be really cold tonight, and I am not a fan of that, especially if I have to wait outside for the bus.
Once I get outside, I am grateful for my outfit choice, as well as the heavy parka and hat I’d thrown on top of it. The temperature is fifteen, but the windchill is below zero, and the wind feels like a knife on my face and seizes my breath in my lungs. I contemplate walking back to get my scarf when I notice the bus is already pulled up to the stop, a full ten minutes early. I run to the stop so I don’t miss it, leaving the scarf behind.
I take the early bus as a good sign, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. The bus driver tonight had been early to my stop, but that is where the early ended. He must be new or blind or drunk. Whatever it is, he drives so slowly the rest of the route that any early start he had is long gone by the time I arrive at school, and it is only four stops from my place.
I run from the stop to the building and then into the classroom just as Professor Edwards enters the circle of desks. Every eye is on me as I burst through the door, and everyone goes dead silent. I want to turn and run the other way.
“Hello, Vivian!” Professor Edwards welcomes me warmly, and I am shocked and mortified that he remembers my name.
I swallow. “S-sorry I’m late,” I say, wanting to die on the spot as every eye is still glued on me. I do not like attention, and I go out of my way to avoid it any way I can.
“Not at all, come in, pull up a seat!” he says, pointing to an open spot in the circle.
Right next to the creepy-stare guy.
Not wanting to cause any more fuss, I quickly make my way over to the open spot and pull a desk over. I ditch my coat as quietly as I can and focus my attention on Professor Edwards as he starts the discussion for today’s class. Once I am settled and get my notebook out, I notice that this seating arrangement is absolutely perfect. There is no way that I can be stared at by the creeper hottie. I am sitting beside him in the circle, and without him turning all the way around, he can’t see me at all
I feel an instant joy at the turn of events. I relax and throw myself into the discussion, completely forgetting about my awkward entrance. I’m pleased to notice that even when I speak, he doesn’t turn to look in my direction.
This night has turned out perfect.
“Okay, we have about fifteen minutes left in class,” Professor Edwards announces. “I’d like to go over the group project for the semester. There are eight common ethical dilemmas we see in business today. I will divide the class into groups of three, and you can get started talking about the dilemma and how you want to approach the project.”
I inwardly groan but sit stone-faced. Life is all about doing things we don’t want, isn’t it? Professor Edwards starts just on one side of me, grouping the class together by threes and giving them each a topic. I’m distracted as he assigns the groups, too busy giving myself an internal pep talk about the things I hate making me stronger, instead of watching the strategy the professor is using for groups. It isn’t until he stops in front of the only two people left that I catch on, and it’s too late. I have been paired with the creepy starer.
“And it looks like my math is off, so it’s just going to be you two for the topic of nepotism,” Professor Edwards says brightly to us and turns away.
And there is my bone-dry glass.
“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, get into your groups for a brief discussion of the project outlines and your topic. My suggestion is to try to divide up the workload so that you can devote some research time before our next class.”
Around me I hear the sound of the chairs being scraped on the floor and moved, but I am trapped in place. I am completely horrified at the way this whole night has suddenly turned against me. I stay that way until my new project partner slides his desk in front of mine, breaking me from my stupor.
“Hello,” the man before me says, his voice deep and gravelly. The sound of it sends shivers through me, but it isn’t out of fear. It is something else. And it pisses me off to realize that I find his voice attractive, and my body is responding to it.