Page 50 of Academically Yours

“Like you’re lying to yourself about Daniel?” I muttered under my breath.

She looked confused and then narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked it as a question, but it fell flat like a statement, a challenge, a dare.

“Never mind. Look. No, nothing’s going on with Matthew.” Another lie, but I was on a roll with them at this point. “I’m just swamped with hall director stuff and assignments for class. Once I get through this next week it should be better.” Again, not technically true, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say.” Char grinned.

I glared at her, but chose to change the subject. “How’s the dress business going?”

Charlotte was an amazing seamstress. She had designed and created some of the most spectacular gowns I’d ever seen. She was trying to make a living off of it, but due to the amount of time it took to make each one and relying on custom orders, she had kept her part-time job at the dance studio as an instructor. For a few months, she’d also worked as a barista at the coffee shop down the street from her apartment.

If I was crazy busy, I didn’t even know what to call Charlotte. Her life seemed a little too insane, even to me, juggling all of these things and still managing to keep up with all her best friends. But little miss social butterfly over here never went a week without talking to me.

“It’s… well, I wish I had more time to just work on orders. Sometimes it’s like I can’t keep up, you know. But I got this wedding dress order in today, and oh my gosh, Noelle, it’s going to be beautiful.”

“I’m so happy for you,” I smiled. “That’s amazing, Charlotte.”

Charlotte beamed. “Thanks, N. One day, hopefully, I can take it full time, but until then…”

I nodded. “I get it.” My phone buzzed, and I realized what time it was. “Oh, shoot, I gotta go, Char. Class calls. See you next week, yeah?”

“We’ll make plans,” she smiled. “The girls want to make up for you missing Saturday. Plus, we still need a do-over of bar night.”

I groaned. “Don’t ever let me drink that much again. I barely remember anything from that night.” Probably for the best though.

“Of course not.” Charlotte frowned at me. “Honestly, I didn’t even realize how drunk you were until we went to the bathroom and came back to all of that… mess. Luckily that hot-as-fuck professor was there to save you, huh?”

“Oh my god,” I said, burying my flushed cheeks in my thick blanket scarf. “Can you please not call him that?”

“Nope.” Charlotte laughed and I scowled at her. “Come on, Noelle, this may be the most exciting thing to happen to you. Like, ever.”

“You can’t be serious right now.” Groaning, I ran my hand over my forehead. “Seriously, Char. I swear, nothing’s happening there.” But even with my protestations, it felt less and less true. And when was I going to admit to her, and myself, that there was something there?

“Okay, okay. But for real, get outta here. I’ll text you.”

“See you soon, C.” I picked up my bag, gave her a wave, and walked out of the cafeteria towards my classroom.

~ ~ ~

Part of me acknowledged that the more I talked to him, the worse my little infatuation I was harboring for him was getting, but I couldn’t stop. Or maybe I just didn’t want to stop. Hazel was so going to chide me for this. Ugh, why did she always have to be right? And why did I have to like him so much?

I had surprised myself when I got back from hall director duties and class that day by sitting down in front of my blank document—the one that would eventually hold the words that would make up my very own book, and I began.

I didn’t know how it would end up, or where I was going with it, but I had written almost a thousand words without even really thinking about it, and even if it was terrible (quite possibly), it felt good that I had begun.

Like maybe all of the ideas sitting in that binder collecting dust might finally see the light. It felt like I’d found something to dream about again. Potentially even somethings to dream about, if the man I couldn’t get off of my mind was any indication.

Even with everything that had happened, I couldn’t help my thoughts—I was a hopeless romantic at heart, and this was always where they drifted. But suddenly, for the first time in a long time, I felt hopeful again. Like maybe I could make my mom proud and make myself happy at the same time. And somehow… I could dream without limits again.

And maybe it was because I had been thinking about him all night, of all the wonderful things he had done for me, that as I slid into bed and settled under the covers, I finally crossed that one line I hadn’t yet.

I texted him.

Me: Hi. I can’t sleep.

His response came through a moment later. Did you try counting sheep?

Me: Haha. Very funny.