21. The Three Cs
Chapter 21
The Three C's
Cece
We’re only a few days away from my favorite holiday of the year. Not everyone considers Halloween to be a holiday, but you’ll bring me over to the dark side. Cosplay is life for me, so I think it follows that the one day a year that even the masses wear costumes is a cause for celebration. Usually, it’s just the cosplay crowd.
The details of what I’m going to wear are running through my head as I idly chew on the end of my pen.
“Miss Whitaker.”
Startled out of my reverie, I look up to spot my TA staring down at me. She’s only a few years older than me as a grad student, but she’s got her shiny blonde hair pulled back in a tidy bun, and she’s wearing a button up blue blouse. It’s probably an attempt to deter her students from asking her out because she would be considered a hottie. And some of the college guys are pretty gross. Being last named by someone so close to my age is weird, though.
“Yes.” There’s a nervous lump forming in my throat. The look in her eyes tells me she feels bad for me, which means this isn’t a pleasure visit.
“We need to talk about your grade on the last assignment.”
Right, I was so busy with Dev, and all the drama I didn’t have as much time to spend on it as I should have. It wasn’t my best work, but I didn’t think it was an F or anything. The look on her face tells me otherwise.
“What about it?”
Her eyes shift away from mine. “It would be better for you to come to my office. I’ve got office hours from one to three today. Can you stop by then?”
Great. Now I’m going to be stressed about this all through lunch.
“Sure. Can I ask...”
She nods. “We’ll talk later.”
Awesome. If I fail this class, I might not be able to graduate at the end of the year. That’s unacceptable. I can’t be the one member of the Whitaker family that doesn’t finish college. What a nightmare.
The front door slams behind me as I rush in, carrying a heap of books in my arms.
“You got time to work on our little project tonight? ”
I stumble, and the stack slips out of my arms, tumbling to the floor. “Fuck!” I screech, hopping on one foot. The corner of one particularly thick monster smashed my toes, and now there’s intense pain radiating down my foot.
I grab the injured foot, trying to rub the pain away while continuing my little hopping dance around our hallway.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. What are all these books for?”
“I can’t work on our project. I have to do an extra assignment for management to make up for bombing the last one.”
“Oh, that sucks. I’ve been messing around with some of the ideas for outfit designs, and I was hoping you could make them shine for me.”
Anna’s shouldering more of the writing side, while I’m carrying the heavier load on the drawing aspect of our book, so it’s turning out to be a fantastic partnership.
“I really can’t.” I hate talking about this stuff. Getting a B is considered failing in my family. Actually failing my last assignment with an overall grade hovering in the low Ds would be a complete disgrace. But Anna is not my dad or mom. She’s not my perfect brother. Because as much as he wouldn’t judge me for the grade, he’s never failed a class in his life.
“I’m going to fail this course if I don’t ace this assignment. I can’t even pull it up with the end-of-year exam.” Some of the tension I’ve been carrying in my back eases up as I make my confession.
There’s sympathy and understanding on my friend’s face. Something I’m not so used to seeing. “That sucks. I flunked math in grade ten and had to go to summer school. It was the worst. I would totally help you if I could, but I’ve got zero knowledge of businessy things. Maybe you should get a tutor? I could help you find one.”
The offer leaves a warm glow in my chest. “Thanks. I appreciate it, but I can do this. I just have to dig in deep and ace this thing. I can do it, but I’m probably going to be a nonparticipating member of the house for the next week or so. Other than Halloween. Of course I’m in for that.”
“Okay. I’ll leave you alone, but let me know if you need anything. The three Cs. Caffeine, cookies, or chips.”
“I’m probably going to consume way too many of those this week, but I’m good for the moment. Thanks again.”
She smiles, heading off to the kitchen. There is a delicious warm curry smell emanating from that direction, so I imagine Blake is working on some masterpiece or other. He keeps us well fed. Zero regrets on my part about sneaking him past my dad’s radar.
The leather chair dips under the weight of my flop after I drop the books and my bag on my desk. I pull out my phone to check if there’s any sign of Dev. After he left me all hot and needy and then turned over and started snoring like a middle-aged man in a bad marriage, I haven’t been able to pin him down for a repeat hang. I miss his body, and his dick, but even more I miss his face and the way he looks at me. Like I’m not on a one-way trip on board the fuckup express.
I scroll through his texts instead of starting work on my assignment. There’s a lot of dopamine in his sweet messages. But the excitement bubbling inside when a new one pops up can’t be healthy.
Will Loki wear a costume?
Maybe for five secs
How about this?
The pic that shows up has me melting. Glittery red horns protrude from the hood attached to a long black shirt with bat-like wings. It’s got a devilish tail to match the horns.
ALL OF THE YES
All caps are essential to get my point across. That might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
Good I bought it. We match.
And no, I was wrong. This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. A selfie appears of Dev’s growly face with a halo of red, sequined devil horns. And I’m now officially dead. Goodbye cruel world.
I send him a skull emoji.
You still coming to the party?
Now I’m breathing a sigh of relief. I was worried after that night. Maybe he’s not into me anymore. Maybe he realized that I’m a mess he doesn’t need in his life. None of the daily texts were enough to reassure me that things were still good. But this .
The fact that he went out of his way to buy a costume for my furry friend, who he’s still afraid of. And he bought himself something to match? That’s love. Maybe not love. Too soon for the L word, no matter how much my heart is screaming to jump all in. Jumping all in and regretting it later is one of my special skills, after all.
But no. I’ve been letting my insecurities get to me. He wants me at his party, even though we can’t showcase our relationship.
I send him back a hundred percent emoji, along with a pumpkin and a vampire for good measure.
Good
There’s a heart emoji next to the last word he texted me for the evening, and it fills me up. Almost enough to get me through the night of reading the same paragraphs three times, while I try to focus on the supremely uninteresting textbook.