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Professor Dempsey makes a face like he doesn’t agree. “Are you putting in a formal complaint about your grade?”
“No, no,” I say right away. The last thing I need to do is make this guy think I’m challenging him. I’ve seen professors ruin an athlete’s life. “I just want to know what you want from me to get a better grade.”
“Well, technically, I did give you a better grade. It was a C– paper.”
“No way.”
He shrugs.
I pull my shoulders back, peering down at the essay I wrote. A part of me can’t wait until I don’t have to pander to these professors on power trips. Doesn’t this guy realize there’s no way I’ll be using English literature in real life? “Tell me what you want to see in these essays for a solid B and I’ll do it.”
“I want you to fully comprehend the material, Mr. Farmer. The beauty of literature is the weaving of stories that teach us how to see the world. Do a deep dive into the material. I don’t want a Spark-Notes level of understanding, I want bone deep.” He places a fist over his heart.
I bet this guy gets hard over Shakespeare.That’s all I can think about as I nod and walk away, stuffing my C– paper into my bag.
Exiting out the door, I pull up short when a body scurries in front of me.What is up with me the last couple of days? I keep colliding with people—or nearly.
I check the time on my phone and breathe a sigh of relief. The dining hall is still open. These early morning classes are hell, but at least the cafeteria isn’t as crazy afterward.
“Who?! Farmer!”
A smile peels across my lips. Davey and I drop into our touchdown dance in the middle of the hallway. Shuffle right, shuffle left, jump, and spike. A smattering of applause from onlookers rises up, and I give Davey knuckles before turning away and running right into a petite body. “Are you kiddingme?” I mutter. This is like the equivalent of premature ejaculation. I can’t even walk anymore.
She stills, black hair fanning in front of her face until she shakes it away. “Are you kiddingme? You? Again?”
I reach out and steady her with my hand on her shoulder. “Charley-not-Charlotte, hi. Are you okay?”
She makes a weird sort of groan in her throat that doesn’t sound at all like she’s happy to see me.
“What are the odds?” I’ve never seen her on campus before, and now she’s everywhere. “It’s like fate is trying to tell us something.”
“Fate is trying to tell you to pull your head out of your ass! Aren’t you supposed to be agile and quick?”
“I never see you coming,” I tell her, nearly in awe.
“Maybe it’s because you were taking up the whole hallway with that stupid dance.”
“Stupid dance? That’s my?—”
“I don’t care.”
I break into a smile. This girl tries too hard to be miserable. “You’re fun.”
Her mouth drops. She stands there, blinking, not saying a word.
“You know what I think, Charley-not-Charlotte? You secretly find me gorgeous. Are you throwing yourself in my way all the time? That’s the only explanation. You love me. I knew it.”
“Are you…mentally challenged?”
“On occasion, but I’m right about this. You can’t get enough of me.”
She steps backward, and I follow. The halls are emptying out, so she doesn’t stumble into anyone until her back hits the wall. I lean over her, my arm above her head. “Let me take you out sometime.”
She laughs. In my face. “Do those lines really work on girls?I’min love with you? So, of course,Ihave to let you take me out?”
Her expression is guarded, and I have to admit, this is turning into a bit of a chore. “Come on, I’m trying really hard here.”
She stands straight up, moving me away. “No one is asking you to.”