Chapter 17
COLTON
FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
Quinn keeps her back straight as she stares down the administrative assistant at the desk across from her. She has on a professional outfit, a pencil skirt and blouse that’s bringing up sexy librarian fantasies I didn’t realize I had until now.
I’m less confident, but no less professional looking in my slacks and button down.
“I still don’t see why I had to wear my damn church clothes,” I murmur.
“Because we want him to take us seriously,” Quinn hisses. “We don’t want him thinking we’re some ignorant freshmen he can push around.”
“We are ignorant freshmen he can push around,” I grumble.
The door of the department chair’s office opens, and a stern-looking man steps out.
“Mr. Miller and Miss Riley?”
Quinn stands and smooths down her skirt. She marches over with her hand outstretched, like we’re meeting him for a multi-million dollar merger. He smiles at us like the kids we are as he shakes it.
How the hell did she talk me into this?
I have no idea what we’re doing. I didn’t even know what a damn department chair was until she explained it.
But this is her world. She said her mom’s the chair of her psychology department.
Her dad’s the only name bigger than Dr. Cassia’s in their field.
Her two oldest brothers already finished their PhDs, and her youngest brother is well on his way to his, too.
If she says this is the right call, then that’s what we’ll do.
“Thank you, Dr. Murphy, for agreeing to hear our concerns,” she says.
He laughs, like we’re an amusing distraction from his important duties, and I shrink further into myself. Maybe I can disappear now and save Chadoin the work of kicking me out. Dr. Murphy gestures toward his office and we follow him inside.
Once we’re seated, Dr. Murphy turns to me.
“Mr. Miller, can you explain to me why we’re meeting today?”
I wipe my hands on my slacks, sweat breaking out on my brow. Quinn gives my foot a reassuring nudge.
“Well, you see, sir, I’ve been havin’ a bit of trouble with my classes this semester. My advisor and I met last week, and the meeting didn’t go too well. Quinn thought it would be…” She puts pressure on my toes with her foot. “We thought it would be a good idea to discuss the situation with you.”
“How did the meeting not go too well?”
“He told me I was going to flunk out and that perhaps I’m not cut out for Chadoin, or college in general.”
Dr. Murphy nods thoughtfully. “I can imagine that would be difficult to hear. But it’s the responsibility of our professors to give students feedback on their performance.”
“With all due respect, Dr. Murphy, you’re wrong. That’s not what this professor was doing, and I think you know it.” Quinn cuts in.
He rears back.
“Now, excuse me, young lady.” He puffs himself up, ready to light into her, but she isn't having it. She jumps to her feet, standing at the edge of his desk.
“No, sir, I don’t excuse you. I’ve spent my whole life on campuses.
I’ve seen deans and department chairs and professors with all different approaches to how they work with students.
But there is one trait that’s always consistent with the good ones, the ones worthy of the title of professor.
They don’t give up on students who are willing to put in the work to improve, especially not a few months into college.
“This young man is extraordinary. He came here with no family or friends to guide him. He’s done everything himself.
Chadoin gave him a full-ride scholarship because they saw that work ethic.
They saw his potential. There are resources here on campus that Colton didn’t even know about because his advisor, if we can call him that, couldn’t be bothered to tell him. ”
Quinn clenches her jaw and holds her chin high. I can’t pull my eyes away from her. She’s ferocious and confident and eloquent. And all to support me.
I’ve never had someone willing to fight on my behalf.
And I’ve never loved anyone like I love Quinn.
She turns to me. “Did your advisor ask why you’re struggling?
” I shake my head. “Did he tell you about tutoring services?” Another shake.
“The Writing Center? Office hours where you could talk to your professors?” Another shake.
She turns her attention back to Dr. Murphy.
“What’s the point of having these resources if you don’t tell students about them? ”
Dr. Murphy waves his hand. “I’m sure Dr. Christensen is planning to send those resources.”
She leans over his desk, hands planted, eyes boring down on him. “He told him the university wouldn’t waste any more money on him. Does that sound like the words of someone who plans to provide resources?”
Dr. Murphy has the sense to look ashamed. “You’re right. That’s an inappropriate comment for a faculty member, and I’ll speak with him.”
“I also expect your support when he approaches his professors about his grades.” Goddamn, she’s ballsy. She lays a sheet on the desk in front of him. “Here’s the plan we’ve written out.”
Dr. Murphy’s eyes scan the page, his eyebrows raising. “This is impressive, Ms. Riley. More thorough than most of our advisors.”
“That says more about your advisors than it says about me, sir,” she says, but the small flush that covers her cheeks betrays how pleased she is. She worked hard on it and deserves all the praise she can get.
Dr. Murphy passes the sheet back to Quinn. “I’ll tell his professors he’s coming, but he has to do the work himself.”
“We’re not asking you to hand him better grades. We’re asking for a chance for him to improve without being treated like dirt. Chadoin University is an exceptional institution. Much better than it’s shown itself to be toward Colton.”
With that mic drop, she pulls me toward the door before Dr. Murphy can come to his senses and realize we had no right to demand anything of him.
Before we can escape, he calls out, “What are you studying, Miss Riley?”
She turns back to look at him. “Classical civilizations. Why?”
“A shame. You’d be a shark in the boardroom. We could use that in our program.”
“I’m only a shark when someone I care about isn’t being treated right. I’m sorry to say your sales metrics could never rile me up like that. But thank you for your support.”
“You’re welcome. And Mr. Miller?”
I stiffen, waiting for whatever new insult will be hurled my way.
“Sometimes a student’s grades are low because the transition to college is hard, but sometimes it’s because they’re in the wrong field. Your grade is nearly perfect in your history class. Ask yourself why you’re studying business. That might be the first step to getting where you need to be.”
Quinn and I walk in silence through the outer offices, through the hallways and courtyards as we make our way across campus.
Dr. Murphy’s question plays on repeat in my mind.
Why am I studying business? Because it feels safe?
Because it’s what Momma and I talked about all those years, me getting a business degree and making something of myself for both our sakes?
Quinn vibrates with energy beside me. She’s waiting for me to say something, but I can’t think past the arguments swirling around in my head. Plus, I’m worried if I open my mouth, I’ll declare my undying love like a total ass.
Quinn eventually breaks. “Okay, are you mad at me? I should have let you take the lead, and I came in and bulldozed everything. Please tell me how you’re feeling because I’m losing my mind.”
I pull her in for a hug, pressing a hard kiss to her forehead. It’s too far, but I can’t stop myself. It isn’t even a romantic kiss. The kiss is because of everything she is. Kind, supportive, tough. And mine. Maybe not my girlfriend, but she’s still mine.
“I’m not mad. You’re a fucking superhero.”
She blinks away tears. “Really?”
“Yes, Quinn. No one’s ever had my back like that. It was incredible. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She tucks herself under my arm as we walk over to the dining hall for lunch.
“I was thinking about Dr. Murphy’s comment,” I say.
“Oh, yeah? What about it?”
“I majored in business because it seemed like a smart move, but I hate my classes. And it can’t be a smart move if I’m gonna flunk out because I’m miserable.”
“So what do you like, then?”
“I love our Rome class. But what the hell would I do with a degree in that?”
She raises a brow. “You realize you’re talking to someone getting a degree in that, right?”
“Yeah, but you’re gonna be a fancy professor, and that’s amazing, but so few people get to do that. My mom’s counting on me to get a good job after graduation. I can’t just study what’s fun.”
“Why not? You can get a good job studying anything if you put in the work to figure it out. Would you rather take the easy route now and be miserable for the next fifty years, or research your options and be happier in the long run?”
It’s a fair—if fucking terrifying—point. “Can I really throw away all my plans?”
Quinn shrugs. “What we want out of life can change with new experiences, and I think the best thing we can do is follow that instinct wherever it leads.”
I run a hand through my hair. “And what if I’m not good enough to make it?”
“You’ll never know unless you try.” Quinn’s smile is soft.
“Maybe you won’t become a professor, but you’re smart and passionate.
And you have a very, very pushy best friend who wants to see you succeed.
You’ll be fine. And if you do decide to go the professor route, I happen to know a pretty well-respected member in that field. ”
She wiggles her eyebrows at me and I laugh.
“Dr. Colton Miller has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” she asks.
Who knows? Crazier things have happened.