Chapter 16 Mile Sixteen
MILE SIXTEEN
THAT’S NOT ABOUT YOU
“My dear Jensen, it’s Kayla and Catherine. We have come to kidnap you!” Kayla cheers, her heels clicking as she strides into my office.
Grinning, I yank the earbud from my ear and turn my head toward my friends.
Since our ladies’ trip a month ago, we’ve become extra tight.
On top of our weekly brunch outing and daily lattes, we hit up Harkey’s Hideaway each Friday with Anker and Garrett, now that my brother has forgone his couch and returned to the land of functional humans.
Between training and time with my friends, I can’t remember having such a full social schedule.
“I love that your kidnappers announce themselves.” Andrew drawls from his office.
“Oh, hush, Andrew, or we won’t bring you back a Danish,” Catherine teases.
“They have blueberry today. Your favorite. You don’t want to risk that, do you?” Hands on hips, Kayla coos.
“She-devils.” Humor fills his grumble.
Standing, I grab my purse. “Leave Andrew alone. He just found out Elise got into school in Boston and wants to go there.”
“Leave the purse. My treat.” Catherine claps her hands together. “After all, we need to celebrate the salary bump I’m about to get as Pemberley’s newest associate professor!”
“Shut up!” I squeal, rounding my desk.
“Yep!” She envelops me in a dancing hug. Her excitement vibrates her entire body. “Bay-Cheng made the offer on Friday, but I had to wait until HR sent the formal letter, which arrived this morning.”
“And our queen here also finished her book’s first draft last night.” Kayla shimmies her hips.
“Way to go, Catherine!” Andrew hoots.
“This is amazing!” Jutting my butt, I join Kayla in a silly dance which causes Catherine to laugh. “Also, this will be our treat, so we can properly celebrate you.”
“I’ve explained this to her, but you know Catherine…” Kayla says, her warm tone telegraphing the image of red painted lips tugged up into a broad grin.
“Hey, Grandma Flores would disown me for not sharing my good fortune with the people I care about.” Catherine loops her arm in mine, and then Kayla’s.
“Alright, details over lattes, but you have got to allow Kayla and me to properly celebrate you this weekend. Perhaps we can skip brunch and hit that steakhouse you love. We’ll get gussied up for a Saturday night out! I’ll even pull out my sexy push-up bra.” I shimmy just a bit.
“TMI!” Andrew bellows from his office, but we ignore him.
“Yes, please. Little black dresses, steak, and red wine. This sounds very American. Count me in,” Kayla hums.
“That does sound lovely, but I can’t.” Catherine sighs. “I have a date.”
“A date?” Kayla clears her throat. “I thought you weren’t doing the dating thing?”
“No, that’s you two. I’m just not doing the serious dating thing. Just the casual dating thing,” she explains.
While Kayla and I remain on sabbatical, Catherine is mingling.
Though, this is the first mingling she’s done since November.
Much of her energy has been focused on the lengthy interview process with its multiple rounds and observed teaching sessions.
Just watching her go through the process exhausts me, so I can’t imagine having the bandwidth to date on top of that.
“Guess we have lots to celebrate then. New position, possible hookup, and soon-to-be bestselling book—”
“It’s just a first draft,” Catherine guffaws.
“A minor detail.” Kayla flicks her wrist. “We should do dinner in lieu of drinks tonight.”
“I can let Garrett and Anker know we won’t meet them at Harkey’s—”
“Invite them. I kind of enjoy this little fivesome we have going on,” Catherine says.
My mouth twitches into a bigger smile. For so long I’ve wanted this—a group of friends to call my own. People who like me for me, and not what I can do for them.
Catherine bumps my hip with hers. “Plus, knowing those two big lugs, they’ll pay for all of us.”
“Big lugs?” I laugh.
“I said what I said.”
I shake my head. “Also, how is having Garrett and Anker pay for dinner equate to us treating you?”
“Again, Grandma Flores would want me to share my good fortune with my friends,” she says, a wink in her playful timbre.
“Does that good fortune include a blueberry Danish?” Andrew calls as we stroll out of the office.
“We’ll get you two in honor of Elise’s college acceptance and in consolation for your sadness!” Catherine shouts as we head out.
Garrett: Quinoa Protein Bowl
I lean back in my office chair, a pleased smile belts across my face, at Garrett’s now-daily lunchtime text message. Despite my phone’s robotic tone, I almost hear Garrett’s deep timbre telling me what he’s having for lunch.
For Christmas, I got him a subscription to a meal delivery service. Now, he has no excuse not to eat. It’s delivered each Sunday to his house, and I set up a daily reminder for him to grab his meal and an additional nudge to eat said meal.
Me: Glad you’re keeping up your strength. I, for one, am withering to nothing with this grilled chicken salad.
Garrett: I’m sure the red velvet cupcake latte you got earlier with Kayla and Catherine, plus the bag of chips you’re probably eating with your salad, will hold you over.
Me: You’re so creepy, Stalker Darcy.
I place my phone down and grab another chip to stifle my giggles and distract me from the little flutter in my chest at this playful exchange.
Crushing on men whom I won’t ever have isn’t new for me, but my self-control about this is.
I’m not waiting for Garrett. I like him, but we’re never going to happen.
This isn’t like Miles or Chase. It’s better as I’m not twisted in knots, hoping he’ll magically wake up one day ready to deal with his unresolved feelings about Val.
Past Jensen would have done just that. She’d be on bated breath and all the cliches.
As I told Dr. Nor, I can recognize my feelings for Garrett without losing myself to them.
I can be his friend without holding onto misguided hope that what we have will lead to more.
Because I like being Garrett Marlowe’s friend.
New Jensen—or at least the one I’m becoming—is focused on our mission.
We’re three months into our training. My ability to loosen the rope is improving.
Next week, we’ll have our first test with Cupid Course, a Valentine’s themed 10K benefiting the American Heart Association.
Each leg of our training program comes with a race component to get us comfortable with a crowded race environment.
Both Anker and Garrett talk about the race being so different than training. The noise. The energy. The other runners. That gets ramped up for visually impaired runners. At least, that’s what Sonora and others say in the online runners’ group.
Tossing my empty food container into the trash, I use wet wipes to clean my hands before logging back into my computer.
This week, the grant application to fund the access technology center is due.
I want to do one last review of it before clicking the submit button.
Just like the lengthy interview process Catherine just went through, I won’t hear about the grant until spring.
At least it doesn’t involve several rounds of interviews.
“Jensen.”
I look up from my work, happiness flutters in my chest. “Garrett.”
“Good day?” He leans against the door jamb, a smirk evident in his question.
“Great day.”
Once I submitted the grant application, I spent the rest of the day with students.
It’s one of my favorite parts of the job.
Not just helping them figure out their path forward, but being a sounding board.
Like me, a lot of them were the only disabled kid from their high school, or in their family.
I hope they get as much out of working with me as I do with them.
With the application submitted, I now have a little additional time in my schedule to take on other projects. One of which I’ve been mulling over for a while.
“I think I’m going to start a disabled students’ social club.” I log out of my computer.
My department’s focus is on disabled students’ academic success, but education isn’t just the classes we take.
It’s also the experiences we have. It’s all the things that make us well-rounded individuals.
This campus has clubs for just about everything.
Many that aren’t accessible—not really. If the last few months with my blossoming friendships have taught me anything, it’s the importance of relationships.
I stand up and grab my purse. “I want to give students the community I am just now finding.”
“That’s great.” He almost glows from the pride radiating off him. “You’re amazing.”
“Thanks…” My nerves sing with his praise. “Here I am babbling about my day. How was yours? I hope you had a good day.”
“It is now.”
Nope, we do not get stomach swoops at that. I flick that ineffective—but I nonetheless still wear it—rubber band. “What are you doing here?”
Brocato’s, Catherine’s favorite steakhouse, is only a block away from my building, so I planned to walk. In the group chat I set up to coordinate tonight’s impromptu dinner celebration, I said I’d meet everyone there at six.
“I’m here to take you home.”
“I said I’d meet everyone at Brocato’s.”
“Well, you didn’t answer my text asking if that meant you didn’t want a ride home, so I erred on the side of keeping your butt warm,” he says, striding into the office.
“Sorry.” I frown at my phone that remains quiet on my desk. With my afternoon meetings with students, I must have forgotten to turn the ringer back on.
“It’s alright. This will give you more time to get dolled up like you all were prattling on about in the group chat.”
“I tapped out before my afternoon meetings. Did Catherine and Anker decide on what tie he’s going to wear?”
“They’ve moved on to shoes.”
“I’m sure you found the dialogue riveting.” I make jazz hands for some unknown reason, but go with it.
“Like paint drying,” he deadpans. “What’s SPUB, by the way?”