Page 30 of Take Care, Taylor

I flipped through the program and heard a round of deep whispers behind me.

“Who the hell is that?”

“Why wasn’t she at the bar with us last night?”

“Damn…”

I looked up to see who the guys were talking about and spotted Audrey walking down the aisle.

No longer wearing the sexy oversized T-shirt I was trying not to think about, she was in a light blue dress that clung to her curves in all the right ways. Her curls were swept into a side ponytail that fell past her shoulders.

My chest tightened before I could stop it. I told myself it was annoyance, not attraction—but the lie burned all the same.

Forcing myself to look away, I pulled out my phone.

Stacey

Hey babe! Good luck on your first day of class! (It’s “class,” right?)

Nick (Agent)

Don’t forget—meeting with Young Pros tonight via Zoom at 8 p.m., and Nike wants your feedback on a few mockups when you can. [img] [img] [img]

Coach

Nerds don’t get pussy. Remember that while you’re writing.

I made a mental note to keep my phone turned off during the morning from here on out.

“Well, hello there, Postscript scholars!” A man in all black tapped the mic onstage. “Good morning!”

“Good morning,” all hundred of us answered in unison.

“Me and the professors are happy you all could join us for one of the most intensive writing programs in the country.”

“As you know, just completing this program is a golden ticket to any graduate program you choose, and it’ll open literary doors all over the world. Alas, the top spot and the top ten scholars will receive quite the benefits package.”

I flipped to the back page, reading through the list.

“We look forward to challenging you to turn in your best writing yet, and to face your younger years with the type of inner reflection that comes with what you now have: time.”

There hasn’t been enough time…

“Remember, there’s no shame in dropping out of this program if it becomes too much for you,” he said. “Being accepted here is one hell of an accomplishment, and you’llalways be a Postscript Scholar no matter what. Now, onto who you’ll be learning from…”

One by one, he introduced each of the professors, made a few suggestions about handling “the heaviest course load on the planet,” and then clapped his hands.

“Alright, that’s it!” He smiled. “You’re now dismissed to whatever’s on your schedule.”

For me, that meantCritical Essay Critique, followed by teaching a small class for gifted boarding school students who stayed on the other side of campus.

There were a few book assignments after that, but I’d already read all of them years ago.

With Audrey…

Pushing away the thought, I took the long route to the conference center that housed my first class.

Five guys and three women came next, then Audrey, and then the professor.