Chapter Eleven #2
“You’re right. I haven’t been around, but I am now, and maybe I’m overly protective of her to make up for it. I know you wouldn’t steal from her, but the thing is, she didn’t know that when she first met you, and I wanted to stress the need to be more careful in general.”
My pulse slows down marginally. “I get that.”
He scratches at his stubbled jaw. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”
“I’m over it.” I said I would forgive him if he provided a valid reason and apologized, and he’s done both.
His eyes soften. “I’m glad.”
“Me too.”
“Because I like you, Sabrina. And you smell—”
“I smell?”
His face turns red. “Good. You smell good.”
My eyes widen. His are unblinking. He’s so close, I wouldn’t even need to move to kiss him. I could just lean forward slightly and…
Someone bangs on the door. “Hurry the fuck up in there!”
We both jump.
Adam locks his jaw. “I forgot we were in a bar bathroom with a line outside.”
My breathing slows. “Same. I guess we should…” I step around him in the limited space to open the door. My hand is on the knob when he gently pulls on my arm.
I turn around to face him.
“We good?” he asks.
I smile softly. “We’re good.”
When we step out of the bathroom together, there’s a mix of wolf whistles and suggestions to get a room. Mortified, I keep my head down and rush back to my friends under the assumption Adam will find the girl he came with. Will he leave with her? My ribs squeeze tight at the thought.
“I still say we go to Brooklyn this year. Manhattan is tired,” Peter is saying.
Carley shakes her head. “But Manhattan doesn’t require being on the subway on St. Patrick’s Day. Last year someone puked an inch from my sneakers. My green, sparkly Allbirds were nearly green, chunky Allbirds.”
“We’re making plans for St. Patrick’s Day? Already?”
My friends gape at me.
“What do you mean already ?” Gabe asks. “It’s next weekend.”
I hitch a breath. “What? No! What’s today’s date?”
“March ninth.”
“March ninth, March ninth, March ninth.” I repeat the date because it feels important.
Then I remember why. My blood turns cold the way it does when I momentarily misplace my phone and freak out that I’ve lost it.
Tonight, my phone is safe in my purse, but I have a different, worse problem.
I pull it out and check the calendar. March eighth was yesterday.
March eighth was the deadline to apply for a fellowship through my school that would have saved me thousands in tuition.
I started filling out the application but never finished.
When I dismissed my last reminder, I must have turned it off completely.
“You okay?” Carley asks me, concern apparent on her face.
“You look whiter than usual.” Gabe’s thick dark eyebrows furrow, belying the mocking tone of his voice.
“I’m fine. I just… I need to go. I’ll call you later…
tomorrow!” My realization rendered me completely sober, and I weave my way through the crowd of people like I’m playing—and winning—Frogger.
I rush through the door, although I’m not sure what the hurry is since the deadline passed and it’s not like I can do anything about it at two in the morning anyway. I just know I can’t be here anymore.
I inhale air I wish I could say was fresh, but it’s stale, post-rain, lingering smoke air. But the cold feels good… for a second… until my arms break out in goose bumps. I left my jacket inside. Fuck.
“You forget something?” My black quilted coat appears as if I summoned it. Only it’s attached to Adam’s hand.
I focus on slipping my hands through the sleeves to hide my surprise and pleasure that he followed me outside. “Thank you.”
“Carley gave it to me. You left in a rush without it. It’s March. Who will manage my grandma’s online payments if you catch pneumonia?”
“She pays them herself. I just…” Then I notice the cheeky grin on his face. Oh. “Too soon, Adam. Too soon.”
He laughs.
I step toward the curb. There are no cabs. I might have to walk to Fourteenth Street to catch one. It’s only a few blocks, but I consider trying Lyft again. It might not be as expensive at this hour. There’s no way I’m taking the bus home. It will take forever.
“So why the rush out of the bar?”
“I’d rather not talk about it.” I can’t believe I missed the deadline. “Why did you follow me outside?”
“You looked upset.” His ears turn red. “And I was leaving anyway. Figured we could share a cab. Here’s one.” He raises his arm to hail it like he’s lived in Manhattan his entire life. We get in and he tells the driver our address.
We’re silent as the cab heads west on Fourteenth Street. “You’re not still mad at me, are you?”
“No.” I almost wish I still was because then we could just make up again and the problem would be solved.
“My mom’s identity was stolen when I was a kid.”
I swing my head to face him. “What? For real?”
He nods. “My parents spent months trying to straighten it out. It was hell.”
“I’m so sorry.” I’ve heard nightmares about this, which is one of the reasons I set Marcia up for so much protection in the first place.
“My grandma knew all about it and so it made no sense to me that she would be so careless.” He clears his throat. “Nothing personal again. I just mean in general.”
“I understand.” I pat his thigh and quickly bring my hand back to my lap. Something occurs to me. “Is that why you pay your bills with a check like a boomer?”
He shrugs sheepishly. “A lot of Gen Xers do that too.”
“Yeah, and they’re still twice your age.” I chuckle. “Thanks for telling me, but that’s not why I ran out of the bar.”
“Why then?”
I gulp. “I missed the deadline to apply for a fellowship that would have saved me $7,500 in tuition.” The deal for a fellowship is that the school sets you up to work somewhere, a museum or library probably, once a week for nine months.
The payment comes in the form of a scholarship.
I’m already busy with school and work, but I could handle a second job for one day a week.
“It would have made a huge difference since I’m not eligible for other scholarships because I’m part-time.
” Getting the fellowship wouldn’t be life-changing since it only comprises a small portion of the total cost of tuition. But it would have been something .
Adam’s eyes widen. “Will you have to drop out of school?”
My mind wanders to Gabe. “Don’t pack up my things just yet.”
His expression is soft. “Never even crossed my mind.”
I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear as my throat thickens.
“I’ll manage… like I have been… but it would have been nice to catch some sort of financial break.
Things are very tight right now. I go to school year-round to make up for my part-time status, but I might not be able to this year if I need to pick up more hours at the library or take another job this summer.
It will delay my degree. At this rate, I’ll be thirty by the time I get a job as a real librarian. ”
My mom paid for my undergraduate degree but said grad school was on me.
She got her business degree while working a full-time job and as a divorced mother of two with minimum child support that she had to pay a lawyer to chase down every month until she gave up trying.
She did it all on her own. I understand why she’d want to instill the same work ethic in her daughters, but the challenge is real.
“That sucks.” Adam’s blue eyes are gentle and sympathetic.
I appreciate that he’s not trying to make me feel better by minimizing it or offering up solutions. He’s simply listening. “I’m going to talk to my advisor on Monday and see if they’ll let me submit a late application.” This idea came to me just now.
Adam nods. “Decent plan. Sometimes deadlines aren’t as fixed as they say. They’re just motivators to get people to move.”
I chew on a chipped nail. “Yeah, well, I hope this is one of those times.”
The cab stops at our building, and we ride the elevator and enter our apartment in silence. I’m exhausted. A second after my head touches the pillow and the second before I fall asleep is when it first occurs to me that Adam left the bar without his date.