Page 4 of Brat Baby (Sugar Life #1, #3)

Emery

Derek doesn’t wait around at the end of the class.

Before I’ve finished writing my last notes, he’s out the door, leaving his TA, Justin, alone to deal with the students who swarm down on him.

Justin’s confused stare as he watches Derek leave confirms that this is not normal behavior for him, which means he isn’t as unaffected as he wants me to believe.

I stretch out the cramp in my hand. Fuck, I haven’t had to write that much in months, and I’m completely out of practice.

As soon as my first SugarLife transfer clears my bank account, I’m purchasing a laptop, even if I have to miss a class to do it.

I’ll find a way to catch up. No way in hell am I going a minute longer than I have to without one.

But even if I’d had a laptop to use, the pace was quick.

No pauses between slides, minimal time for questions.

Which has me nervous about the pace of the rest of my classes.

Sure, high school had been fairly simple, especially when I kept ahead of the reading.

But this feels like it’s on a whole other level.

Not to mention the added pressure of being so close to Derek, who can make my brain switch off with just the tone of his voice.

The last two hours were like some sort of cruel punishment, but I’m unclear on why I’m being punished. And it really didn’t have anything to do with seeing him. It was the fact that he did everything to not see me, to ignore me. After that initial eye contact, he didn’t look at me a single time.

I think I would have preferred if he’d glared at me with the same anger from this morning.

I snatch up my phone and see I have messages from Oakley, but I swipe past those and open the NU student app to find my schedule.

Wednesday. I have to go through all this again on Wednesday.

One thing the last two hours have accomplished is to turn me numb. With every minute he ignored me, the colder I grew. My insides feel empty. Cold and empty. There is a huge nothingness where my lungs belong.

When the room is almost empty, I gather all my things and pass the few students still trying to get a few minutes of Justin’s time.

Before I make it to the door, it opens and the flow of students for the next class begins.

I have to wait for a break and then dart through the door, my legs feeling awkward beneath me.

With an hour to kill before my next class, I head to one of the student dining halls.

I’m not sure how much use I’m going to get out of my meal card, now that I have the money from the weekend.

With the dorm being apartment style and having a fully functioning, if small, kitchen, it’ll be hard to force myself to go to dining halls.

But if I want the money to stretch for as much of my college career as possible, then I should probably take advantage of all the free things that I can.

I need to make the commitment that I’m only going to spend the money on necessary things, like a laptop.

And maybe some new sheets and shit for my bed.

Fuck, just thinking about my macroeconomics course without a laptop makes me irritated. I should have been better prepared.

Every second I spend in the corridor of the math building has my gaze darting around nervously, both hoping and dreading that I’ll spot Derek. But I make it all the way to the front doors without a glimpse.

I know there are probably a bunch of other exits, but until I familiarize myself with this building and campus, I’m going to have to deal with the front door only.

The sun hits my skin with a little more heat than it did earlier, and a full-body shiver runs through me.

I step to the side of the doorway and tip my face up to the sky, soaking in all the warmth that I can.

This is going to be so fucking hard.

So, so, so fucking hard.

But I’ve been through worse and survived.

At least this kind of pain is only internal. It could be worse. They could have literally broken me.

With that super depressing thought, I force myself to start moving.

The moping needs to stop, at least for the next few hours.

I can feel as sorry for myself as I like once I’m back in the dorm.

I just need to get through eating some food, one more lecture, a trip to the library, and then I can break down.

With the help of the map in the student app, Baxter Dining Hall comes into view a few minutes later.

The glass doors slide open as I approach, and I’m hit with a blast of noise.

The hall is absolutely packed full of people.

I take several steps into the space and pause, trying to figure out the chaos.

Tables to the left are filled with people sitting in chairs and actually on the tables.

The table sitters are all in aqua and black NU letterman jackets that have gold writing here and there, with chicks hanging off them.

A football whizzes over the heads of several tables before there is a resounding cheer when it is caught.

Turning away from all of that, I spot the… is that a convenience store? I glance up at the sign hanging above the massive self-serve beverage station situated front and center—Baxter’s Eatery. This is nothing like the cafeteria in high school.

I trail behind two girls as they pass by the drinks and head toward the refrigerators that run lengthwise behind the station. They open the fridge and grab tubs of yogurt and then fruit from some baskets hanging off the corner of the unit.

I mimic their choices, not really caring what I eat at this point, just wanting to figure out how all this works without looking like an idiot. They both grab a packet of Cheetos, so I do the same, and then they go to a counter on the other side of the space.

When I can see through the glass at what food is being offered, my mouth practically falls open. There is so much food, and it actually looks like it’s not mass-produced and frozen upon arrival.

Sandwich bar.

Four different kinds of salad.

Pizzas for one.

Multiple pasta options.

Fries. Burgers. Wraps.

It all looks… fresh. Like it was made here. Looking up, I stare into the hustle and bustle of the kitchen and realize that it is made fresh. There is what I assume is a fully staffed kitchen moving around like a well-oiled machine.

“What can I get you?”

I’m startled away from my staring by a guy in a Baxter’s Eatery green polo and fake smile.

“Oh, uh. Sorry, um, could I grab a pasta?” That’s a safe option, right?

He raises an eyebrow. “Sure, which one?” He uses his blue gloved hand to gesture at the three options.

My cheeks burn. “Lasagna, please.”

He nods. “Would you like fries with that?”

I stare back at him. More food?

He sighs. “Freshman?”

I nod, clutching the snacks I’ve already collected to my chest. “Ah, yeah. I have a meal card.”

The guy nods and offers a tight smile before he starts plating my meal.

“Okay, this is how it works. Your meal card will get you three meals a day, plus a few extras.” He pointedly stares at what I’m already holding.

“So, stock up at each meal to get you through the day. Once I give you this plate, go grab a drink, then head up to the register, scan your card and you’re good to go. Any questions?”

He offers my plate fully loaded with lasagna and fries to me over the top of the glass window, expression bored, like he’s already given that speech a few dozen times today. Since today is the first day of classes, I’m not surprised.

Opting to not incur any more of his irritation, I shake my head and take the plate. “No, thanks.”

I start to walk away, but pivot back as a thought occurs to me. “Um, sorry, actually, where do I get—”

“Against the wall.” He flicks his hand directly to his left toward the end of the counter, where there is a shelf holding tubs full of thin paper bags, which I assume have cutlery and napkins. “When you’re done with your plate, leave it on the table and one of the table staff will clear it away.”

Before I can thank him again, he starts serving the next person. Well, okay, then.

I follow his instructions to the letter, and within minutes, I’m sitting at the end of one of the tables by the wall and people watching as I try to eat the entire serving of pasta.

The rest of the food I collected is going to live in my backpack because there is absolutely zero chance of me eating all this right now.

Now all that’s left to do is eat, macro, library, and home.

Then I can have a pity party for one.