Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
Make The List
Jasmine Chamberlain
“I shouldn’t want to skip class this early in the semester,” I say as I open the fridge to pull out the spinach-and-feta egg bites I made yesterday. “But I don’t even want to see his smug face.”
I explained the whole ordeal to all the girls last night once they got home.
They all agreed that Shepherd is the worst and told me my stress-baked chocolate chip cookies were delicious.
I made egg bites, a caprese pasta salad, and cookies in an attempt to calm down from the day.
If this keeps up, I’m going to have to get another scholarship or a job just to cover my grocery bills.
“I relate on a soul-deep level,” Marigold grumbles over the rim of her bowl-sized mug of coffee.
“Jameson shares half my classes and is on the paper, so the only time I won’t see him is on the weekends.
And even then, I’ll see him if we get assigned to a project together.
” She shudders as if the thought is terrifying.
I put two of the egg bites on a plate and place them in the microwave. “Want some?” I gesture to the container.
“I’ll take two, thanks.” She gives me a small smile.
“Do you think that maybe your situations are just big misunderstandings and the guys aren’t that bad?” Saylor asks from the living room where she’s organizing her flashcards from most- to least-known terms.
Marigold’s smile evaporates. “No.” Her tone leaves no room for discussion.
I open my mouth to agree, but stop. I have wondered that.
At first, my animosity toward Shepherd was based on his reputation as the golden child in the media, which he then embraced by being arrogant in our interactions.
But yesterday, the fight outside of chess club was different.
And I spent half the night staring at my ceiling, wondering if I went too far.
At the same time, he should have been more considerate of not just me, but all the other students.
“Maybe.” I settle on the answer with an unsure tone. “But I still don’t like him.”
Saylor shrugs. “I’ll support you either way, but figured I could pose the question.”
“Trust me, Jameson is a traitor of the worst kind. There is no misunderstanding that,” Marigold grouses.
“Then I will add him to my list of people I despise and make sure to glare at him if we ever cross paths.” Saylor’s sunshine smile sparkles in contrast to her words.
“Please tell me you have an actual list of people you don’t like,” I say, and she looks down at her stack of flashcards.
“I might have a short list of people in my journal that I made on a particularly upsetting day last year. But it’s not something I actually add to and take away from.”
I laugh. “Interesting.”
It’s hard to imagine someone as sweet as Saylor penning a list of enemies in her journal, but then again, we haven’t known each other for very long. There are likely many surprises to come as we grow closer.
“If I had a list, Jameson would be on it more than once,” Marigold says before taking a long drink of her coffee. The dark circles under her eyes let me know some of this venom is likely from lack of sleep. But without knowing what Jameson did, I can’t be sure.
I don’t say anything about Shepherd, instead opting to switch my plate for Marigold’s in silence.
My phone buzzes on the counter. I pick it up to see an email from Professor Kelton.
“What?” I say in disbelief.
“Everything okay?” Saylor asks.
“What did he do this time?” Marigold mumbles.
I read the email again to make sure I didn’t misread it.
“Shepherd must have gone and talked to Professor Kelton about the change, because I just got an email with a survey to choose the days and times that work best for me. Apparently, whatever the majority chooses is the new date.”
Saylor raises her brows. “See? Maybe he’s not so bad after all.”
“Or he did it to save face. He probably wouldn’t have done anything if Jasmine hadn’t called him out,” Marigold points out.
I sigh. Either way, it makes me want to see him even less. Now I have to face him knowing he did something good. I almost wish I felt as strongly about Shepherd as Marigold does about Jameson. Then I wouldn’t second-guess my words so much.
I don’t have to look up from my laptop to know Shepherd is near.
My entire body has been on edge since the moment I left for class.
When I came in and he wasn’t here, relief washed over me like an early autumn breeze, but it was tinged with the anxiety of knowing he’d arrive at some point.
As soon as he walked in the room, I knew.
And when he walked up to take his seat beside me, the brush of his backpack and his fresh-out-the-shower scent confirmed my instinct.
He doesn’t say a word as he takes the seat next to mine. The silence is disconcerting. I’m used to hearing some kind of ridiculous quip from him. His comment from yesterday about teasing comes to mind. I stifle a sigh.
While I was angry before he even spoke, Shepherd’s mention of my family pushed me to another level.
It meant nothing to him since he likely doesn’t understand how I fit into the Carter/Holt family tree.
His words implied that he met my whole family, when in reality the only person I share DNA with in the entire group of people he met is my sister.
So his question only made me think of my parents during a time when I was already feeling emotionally overwhelmed.
I glance at him. He opens up his laptop, the wallpaper lighting up.
It’s a photo of him and his brother, wearing suits.
They’re both grinning, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think they could be twins.
It looks like they’re in some kind of barn, with twinkle lights and people in formal attire behind them.
A wedding, maybe? I look away before he can catch me staring.
Guilt creeps into my mind like a burglar and steals away my anger.
I shouldn’t have brought up his brother, even if he brought up my family.
Dahlia would remind me that fighting fire with fire only results in getting burned.
The thought makes me want to call her, but I don’t want to disappoint her with the truth.
I glance at him again, this time catching him looking at me. We lock eyes. His blue irises are bright today, brought out by his navy Thrashers hoodie. There’s something raw and vulnerable shining in the indigo color that makes me squirm in my seat.
“Do you own any clothes other than university gear?” I blurt out, because staring into his too-blue eyes must have sapped my brain cells.
He lets out a surprised chuckle. “Do you?”
I glance down at my gray Thrashers sweatshirt, my face flaming. I forgot I threw it on while waiting for class to start, since it’s freezing in here today.
“That’s not what I wanted to say. It just kind of came out,” I admit. “I need to talk to you about something.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Do we need to leave class? I’d rather not get yelled at in front of everyone.”
I roll my eyes. “I did not yell at you.”
“No, but based on how our interactions keep getting increasingly more heated, I feel like we’re headed in that direction.”
“I’m trying to apologize,” I say in an exasperated tone.
“Is that so?”
“Yes, so if you could stop distracting me by being obnoxious, that would be great.”
He swipes a hand over his grin. “My apologies, go ahead. I’m excited to hear this.”
I glare at Shepherd. He leans back in his chair and mimes zipping his smirking lips shut. I take a deep breath and let it out in a huff. Though his attitude makes me want to give up, I know I should still say something.
“I’m sorry for blowing up on you yesterday,” I say, looking down at the biker shorts I’m wearing instead of meeting his gaze. “I was upset, but you didn’t change the dates of the meetings to hurt me, so I shouldn’t have gotten so up in arms about it.”
I tug the sleeves of my sweatshirt down over my palms, feeling self-conscious.
“I was a little out of line too. You were right to say I didn’t think about how it would affect everyone else. I tried to make it right by going back to the professor, if that helps.”
I look up, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. I half expected him to tease me some more. He’s watching me with an intensity that steals my breath.
“I got the survey this morning. Thanks for doing that.”
He shrugs. “It may still be the wrong day or time for you in the end, so I don’t know how much help it will end up being.”
“Still, it’s nice of you to try to fix it. What will you do if it ends up being during one of your practice times?” I ask.
Shepherd rakes a hand through his hair. He’s not wearing a hat today, so the mussed blond locks are on full display. “Not go to the meetings, I guess,” he says with a sad smile. “But I hope it doesn’t come to that. I love chess, and I’d miss playing against you.”
I blink in surprise. “You would?”
He chuckles like my disbelief is amusing to him.
“All right, class!” Dr. Poulter calls from the front of the room. “Enough chitchat. We’ve got a lot to cover today, and we need to hit the ground running.”
I reluctantly turn away from Shepherd to face the front. For the rest of class, I try not to think about my chess rival or how I might miss him too if he has to quit.