Page 2 of Not In The Contract

“Check your sass at the door, Devon,” she scolded, but there was a gleam in her eye.

The kind of gleam I’d learned to fear.

“Do I even want to know what twisted idea you’ve thought up?” I asked warily.

“There’s no need for that.” She chuckled. “Have I ever led you astray?”

“No?” I giggled, unable to keep a straight face. “Then that time I ended up in the dean’s office afteryousuggested our year lead an on-campus protest was my fault, I guess?”

“Oh, that was fun,” she scoffed, waving a flippant hand. “Besides, it’s not like you got into any real trouble.”

I’d thought I was about to be kicked out of the university, but I kept that part to myself.

“Then what do you propose?” I asked, half in defeat and half in intrigue.

“I happen to have a friend whose life story is just the one you need.”

I waited for her to elaborate. When she realized I wasn’t going to say anything, she continued with a little less fervor.

“She grew up in foster care and has built one of the most sought-after engineering companies in the country,” she explained. “And her head office just so happens to be a few blocks from campus.”

“That’s… incredible,” I said, an impressed frown tugging at my mouth. “Is she open to interviews? It would be so great to talk to her.”

“I have a better idea,” she said, eyes glittering. “If you’re serious about your dissertation, then I think you should shadow her.”

“Shadow her?” I repeated lamely, my expression carefully blank.

“Yeah, why not?” She shrugged. “You have just under three months before your draft is due. I think you can comfortably spend the next two months shadowing my friend and still have ample time to complete your manuscript.”

I shook my head, thoughts tripping over themselves as I tried to mentally reconcile a jumbled timeline.

“I still have classes,” I reminded her. “Even if her office is only a few blocks away, it would take a considerable chunk of time out of my studies. I don’t think this is a viable course right now.”

“It’s now or never, Devon,” she said. “Your dissertation is based on the psychological traits that make foster kids successful. That’s not something you can pluck out of someone’s head; it takes time and careful observation. The timeline isn’t wholly inflexible, and you can take your classes online.”

I gnawed on my bottom lip, the anxiety of a possibly unmanageable schedule bearing down on me.

But Paula was right; I didn’t have much time left. And her idea was admittedly brilliant, especially if her friendwasthe key to finishing my research.

“I guess there’s no harm in it,” I said slowly, my uncertainty stifling. “This friend of yours sounds like a promising subject. Do you think she’d be open to it? I mean, having someone shadow you while you work isn’t exactly an ideal situation. Especially for two months.”

“She owes me one, anyway.” Paula chuckled, going back to her almonds.

Funnily enough, that didn’t make me feel any more enthusiastic about the next two months.

But I could hardly fight it now. With a sigh, I gathered my things and got to my feet.

“What’s her name?” I asked. “I’d like to do some research on the extent of her success. And I’ll need to contact her-”

“You leave that to me,” she cut in, a smile stretching her deep red lips. “I’ll give her a call. Her name is Alex Bell, and I don’t think the extent of her success is going to matter.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’ll see.”

I waited for a few seconds but when it became clear she wasn’t going to be anylesscryptic, I left.

“Alex Bell,” I murmured to myself, typing the name into my Notes app on my phone so I didn’t forget it.