Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Eve
F+.
My grade for last week’s pop quiz, written in red sharpie, and circled to emphasize just how much of a loser I am, stares up at me accusingly.
My stomach flips. My palms sweat.
Everything else sweats.
Panic rises in my throat, threatening to tumble out along with the coffee I’d had this morning. As if the day hadn’t started terribly already, what with my disastrous meeting with Carter, but now I am forced to face the fact that my father will once again threaten to cut off funding for my education, as soon as this big fat F is reported back to him.
Tears fill my eyes. I feel so hopeless. I studied so hard and thought I’d done much better than I had.
“Oh, shit,” Vi says, looking over my shoulder. “I didn’t do much better than you, for what’s it worth.” She shows me the big red D on her test and I nod.
“Hey, are you crying?” She asks.
“No,” I lie, quickly wiping my tears away with the back of my hand.
“Eve, come on, I know it’s rough. But it’ll get easier. Give yourself a little grace.”
“Tell that to my father,” I say, wryly.
“Is he really that bad?”
“Yes,” I reply, emphatically.
“Well, you’d be able to breathe a little and not be so freaked out about a simple pop quiz grade, if you didn’t have to worry about him.” I told her about my meeting with the associate dean. Vi has been enthusiastically encouraging me to apply for financial aid ever since. She nudges me gently with her elbow. “What are you waiting for?”
“You’re right,” I say. “I’ll go this afternoon to the financial aid office.”
“Good, because you’re running out of time,” she says. “And you don’t want to miss the window. The sooner you’re free, the better.”
“Okay, you’re right. Today,” I nod, firmly. She pats me on the back and flashes me a reassuring smile.
“I don’t think you’ll regret it,” she says.
“Thanks, Vi,” I say, putting the paper in my folder. This class is even harder than Carter’s class, and I’m glad I didn’t get this grade from him.
It’s bad enough I still have to be in his class after this morning.
Failing his class would make it so much more painful and humiliating.
“Ready for Mr. Hottie’s class?”
I moan and shake my head. “No.”
“What is with you? You refuse to acknowledge how hot he is.”
Her words sting. I want to tell her the truth, but I can’t.
“He’s fine,” I say, with a dismissive wave.
“That’s one word for it,” she winks. I hate that she’s lusting after Carter. He may not be mine, but I don’t want anyone else talking to me about him like that. Plus, all it makes me do is remember what I lost, if I ever really had it in the first place.
Because I don’t laugh at her joke, she elbows me.
“God, let’s get you some coffee, eh? And then, maybe pour a little whiskey in it?”
“No, thank you to the whiskey,” I reply. “But I’m down for coffee.”
“Anything to liven you up a little,” she says.
“Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind,” I confess, as we head to the on-campus coffee shop.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Yes, of course I do, but I can’t. I can’t tell her about my feelings for Carter. I can’t tell her that every single time I think about him, or hear his name, or look at him, my entire nervous system goes all willy-nilly and turns me into a quivering mess of emotions.
“It’s just school,” I lie, hating that I can’t be honest.
“Are you sure that’s it?” She’s very perceptive but I brush her off.
“Yeah, it’s just a lot, you know? The classes are harder than I expected they’d be. What about you? Are you having a hard time, too? I saw your grade.”
She shrugs. “I mean, yeah, but I don’t have the added pressure of a helicopter Daddy hanging over my head. That’s gotta be rough for you and make it hard to focus. What is he thinking?”
“He’s thinking that I’m his possession, just as he’s always thought.”
“Was he always this bad?” She asks.
“Not so much. But once my mother died, it’s like he overcompensated or something. He expects perfection out of me and I don’t know if I can deliver.”
“Well, of course you can’t. Perfection doesn’t exist,” she reminds me.
“You’re right, Vi, thank you,” I say. “I wish my father could get that through his thick head.”
“It’s hard for parents to let go. Maybe you getting all your funding covered on your own will force your dad to rethink some things. Sometimes our parents need a little nudge.”
“I hope that’s the case,” I say. “I can’t live under his thumb much longer. It’s suffocating.”
“I know, babe,” she says, patting me on the back as we wait in line for coffee.
After we order, we find a little table in the back of the shop and settle in to study together before we have to head to cell biology. I’m dreading seeing Carter again, but I have no choice.
An hour later, Vi and I are sitting in the back row of Carter’s classroom, and I’m doing everything I can to avoid looking at him. Mostly, I keep my eyes firmly planted on the open textbook in front of me.
But then, Vi nudges me. I look over at her and she winks and smiles and points to Carter’s back. He’s down below at the board, writing down assignments and due dates.
“Look at his ass!” She whispers.
I groan and shake my head, refusing to look.
“What is wrong with you!” Vi hisses. “It’s so tight, you could bounce a quarter off it!”
She giggles. I shake my head again, trying to muster a smile, but I’m mortified. Am I doomed to live this rare kind of torture forever?
I contemplate feigning sickness, a headache, period cramps, anything, to give me a reason to walk out in the middle of class. But I know if I stand up and walk down the aisle, everyone’s heads will turn and all eyes will be on me.
Including Carter’s. I can’t risk that kind of attention, so I keep my ass firmly planted in my seat and try to avoid Vi’s curious glances for the next hour. It’s painful, to say the least.
When Carter announces class is dismissed, ten minutes early, thankfully, I pack up quickly and say goodbye to Vi.
“Why are you leaving so quickly?” she asks.
“Heading to the financial aid office, remember?” I reply, grateful for a valid excuse at my excessive speed fleeing the room.
“Oh, right. Good luck!” She calls to my back. I’m already half-way down the aisle, my eyes firmly planted on my shoes and avoiding Carter’s face completely.
Still, I feel the heat of his gaze on my back as I head for the door. It stays with me, warming my back, all the way to the admin building.
As I pull open the door, I can’t help but wonder if he’s still thinking about me, too.