Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
EMMA
My long coat sways as I sip on a matcha latte, heading to the newsroom.
My last class of the day just let out, and although I thought I was done with the paper this week, it turns out Oliver wants me to double-check one more fact I may have gotten wrong.
Oliver might not really like me, but I refuse to let him ruin my good mood.
Next week will be my last in Grayson’s lectures and labs.
I’ve already finished my first draft of the profile piece and just need a few details from my next soup kitchen visit.
I’ve never been prouder of an article in my life.
It still needs work, but it’s been nearly two months of everything coming together.
Memories of the first time I saw Grayson at Driscoll come flooding back, and so much has happened since then—in less than two months. I can’t believe this is my life.
I’m sleeping with a professor I was only making out with two days ago, like we were teens meeting under the bleachers over lunch.
I’m planning to run for editor in chief at the Driscoll Wolf Weekly, my friends and I are spending more time together, and I’m doing well in all my classes, even though I usually get only five hours of sleep most days.
I’m happy…I think. No, I am. I’m so happy that I’m carrying a box of three dozen donut holes to cheer people up at the office.
The heater blasts air at the entrance of the building, making my hair a mess, but it’s so cold outside that I don’t pay it any mind. In two minutes, I’m in the hectic newsroom, putting down the box and removing my gloves before opening it.
“I brought some donut holes for anyone who—”
I’m cut short when reporters and photographers rush to the center table to get one.
I quickly step out of the way to avoid being stomped on.
I really need to remember to go to my desk before making the announcement.
The colder it gets, the grumpier everyone is.
I’m sure it’s because we’re not too far from the holidays and everyone is eager to go home, including me.
As much as I love spending time with my friends and seeing Grayson, I miss my parents.
“Emma!” Oliver yells as I set my purse on my desk. I quickly grab the papers I printed earlier and head his way. “Did you fact-check what I sent you?”
I hand him the papers from four reliable sources that I sought out to verify the accuracy of what I wrote about the politician who came to speak on campus.
He looks through them and raises an eyebrow. His lips quirk up very slightly before he says, “Good job, Haywood. I’ll send the article to print.” My eyes widen at the first real compliment he’s ever given me. He shoos a hand in my direction. “That’ll be all.”
I don’t say a word as I walk away.
I’ll be damned. He does like me after all.
I’m about to reach my desk when I spot Ben talking to Eric…or should I say, flirting with Eric.
He says something that makes Eric look at him as if he wants to jump his bones right here and now. Ben must feel my gaze on him because he turns and meets my huge smile. He winks at me and goes back to talking to his guy.
Whether they’re hooking up, dating, or just talking, I’m glad Ben took the initiative, and it seems like I’m officially out of his head.
“But, Amelia, I couldn’t get a quote from her. She refused to speak to me, and she was being rude!” I hear Samantha whine, with everyone turning toward where she and my boss are standing.
Amelia slams the papers she’s holding on to her desk.
“This is the second time she’s called the office complaining that you followed her for ten blocks, yelling questions like a lunatic instead of waiting for her assistant to get back to you for a formal interview like she said she would.
” I have no idea who or what they’re talking about, only that Samantha has shrunk to what seems to be half her size.
“You lost the opportunity to interview somebody else for your piece, again. We are not the paparazzi or a sleazy tabloid. This is a respectable collegiate newspaper that’s been running for almost one hundred and fifty years.
I’ll be damned if my work as editor in chief goes down the drain because an immature, irresponsible, and impatient reporter can’t seem to get a quote the rational and logical way. ”
“But—”
“No buts!” Amelia says sternly. “One more call from anyone about you, and you’re done, Samantha.”
Samantha scans the room as all of us stare at her, and we quickly look away, acting as if we didn’t overhear the entire conversation.
I know Samantha hasn’t been doing well at the paper lately.
In fact, she’s been desperately looking for unique pieces and constantly pitching ideas to Amelia that she dismisses because they aren’t good enough.
Still, I never expected her to go as far as chasing someone for ten blocks.
As a reporter, asking tough questions is part of the job, and being persistent is also a must, but physically chasing someone is a whole different matter.
“Haywood!” Amelia yells. She startles me so much that I knock my computer mouse to the floor.
“Coming, boss!”
I run to her desk and wait patiently to see what she’s going to ask of me.
“I want the first draft of your article on my desk by the end of next week.”
“It’s already done.”
Amelia looks up at me from her computer. “But you haven’t finished your last two visits to the soup kitchen?”
I nod. “Those are mostly for pictures rather than information, but the first draft is finished. Unless something extremely exciting happens the next two weekends, there won’t be anything else to add.”
She leans back and watches me. “Print it out before you leave. I’ll take a look at it this weekend.”
Nerves churn in my stomach as I swallow past the dryness in my throat. “I’ll do that now.”
I turn to leave. “Elections are next month, Emma,” she says quietly. “Although I should warn you, Oliver is running as well.”
My body freezes. Of course he is, it only makes sense. He’s Amelia’s right-hand man and has been here since the beginning of the spring semester. Honestly, I’d feel bad about taking the spot from him.
“Are there any other positions that are open?” I ask her.
She smiles at me, respect shining in her eyes. “Yes, four more. We have to change positions every year, so many people are staying, but some are graduating this semester. You can run for any of them in December.”
Nodding, I go to print out the article. I’ll do my best to get the editor-in-chief position, but I hope to get one of the other roles if it doesn’t work out. The one thing I’m sure of is that the last position I want is copy editor.
Kamila and I high-five everyone in our group as we win the last round of flip cup.
“Ha! Beat that, fuckers!” Kamila yells at Jake and Luna, officially tipsy.
“You’re such a terrible winner, Kami.” Luna shakes her head.
I giggle for no real reason and realize that the alcohol is starting to hit me. Yeah, I’m on the verge of being drunk.
I’ve been bracing myself for the past two hours of Stevie’s twenty-second birthday.
The girl can’t drink, and I really didn’t want to get drunk on her day, but then the Kappa boys invited us to play flip cup.
Either way, Levi is with her, along with Cameron, Cameron’s friend Zoey, her boyfriend Will, and finally Luna’s boyfriend Brad, who have all decided to stay sober for the night, save for a beer or two.
“Who wants to do some line dancing?” Jake’s friend, Brian, who’s one of the heads of Kappa, yells to everyone in the back room.
The back room at the Kappa house is restricted to certain people.
Mostly rich kids with connections—like Jake—or the higher-ups in the frat.
The room next to it usually hosts the public parties.
The house itself is huge, with an endless number of doors.
We’ve only been coming to parties here for the past year, but each one is epic and holds some sort of backstory.
Although today is Stevie’s day, she asked Jake not to tell the frat because they had a western-themed party planned, and she wanted something casual…and to wear cowboy boots.
Kami and I embraced the theme, and she wore a black dress with short white boots and a red hat. She’s always wearing something red.
Meanwhile, I decided on a white dress, long brown boots, and a brown hat.
“Which song are you guys doing?” I ask, waiting to see if I’ll recognize the dance.
Levi and Stevie move closer to me and whip their heads over.
“Since when do you know how to line dance?” Levi asks.
“Shush.” I wave a hand in their direction, drinking more beer.
“‘Fake ID’, beautiful.” Brian smirks and motions his head to the spot next to him. “You want me to teach you?”
I may be a terrible dancer in the club, but one thing Kami’s classes have taught me is coordination, and I just happened to learn some line dances online for this particular party. “Fake ID” was the most popular song, besides “Footloose,” so I focused on those two.
Brian, Jake’s friend from Kappa, and I have only spoken three times, but every single time, he’s flirted with me. He’s flirted with everyone in the group, actually, except for Jake. Levi was fair game last year when they almost hooked up.
I chug the rest of my beer, feeling just drunk enough to give this a try.
“Let’s do this.” Moving to face my friends who are looking at me like I just sprouted another head, I say, “I may not be a good dancer, and I might even make myself trip at some point, but I know the steps. So, if anyone else knows the dance and wants to join me, now’s your chance.
” I stare at them, as my best friend’s wife slowly steps forward.
Smiling, I grab the hand of the second-worst dancer in our group—other than me—dragging her along.
“Come on, birthday girl. Let’s have some fun. ”