18. I Might Have a Problem
18
I Might Have a Problem
Carson
On Wednesday morning, I drag myself into calculus. Even though it’s only November and not that early, I still feel weary, like a ton of bricks hit me in the face, and I’m waking up from a coma.
The one thing that’s making today more bearable is seeing Diana in the front two seats. Only today, she’s alone. Usually, Lucia sits right next to her but today, she’s not there.
I approach Diana’s desk, tapping once to get her attention. She glances up, hazel-green eyes no longer shooting daggers at me. When that stopped, I’m not exactly sure.
“Well, you’re chipper,” I muse.
She shakes her head wildly. “Nope, it’s all nerves.”
“Why? It’s just Wednesday.”
“He’s passing out the scores for the re-do midterm today,” she corrects, fiddling with the strap on her splint. “That’s why.”
“You nervous?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I feel just great, doc. Thanks.” I can hear the sarcasm lacing her voice.
“Okay, class. Get your textbooks out,” Professor Scott announces as he waltzes into the class. Really, he hobbles. His posture and stance are so bad that I’m pretty sure my great-uncle Carl can walk better than my sixty-something calculus professor.
I bet he can teach better than Scott.
But if that were the case, I wouldn’t have had to tutor Diana these past few weeks and break through that icy persona that she only showcased when I was around—partially due to the pie I accidentally threw at her face—and unveil a lot more.
And I’m grateful for my professor’s shitty teaching methods.
Nodding to the empty chair next to Diana, I ask. “Is this seat taken?”
She gestures for me to sit down, and I do so, grabbing my textbook and placing one headphone in. I wasn’t lying to Diana when I told her that I didn’t listen to his lectures. At least, not in their entirety. I jot notes down from time to time but for the most part, I spend the time I have in class answering the practice questions on the back of the textbook that I don’t think the rest of our class knows about.
Hozier playing in one ear, Professor Scott droning on and on in the other. I, Carson Ryder, the multi-tasker the world never knew it needed.
About halfway through the lecture, he pauses and allows us five minutes of reprieve so he can pass out the scores for the re-do midterm. I quickly finish the question I’m working on and close my notebook before turning to Diana, who bounces her jean-clad knee in anticipation.
And at such a rapid pace that she repeatedly hits the desk lightly from underneath. I thought the knocking was coming from the music—I guess I was wrong.
I lift my hand from my desk and place it on her knee, causing her to turn to me with wide, confused eyes. “You’ll be fine,” I whisper, bringing my eyes back to my notebook.
After giving her knee one light squeeze, her shoulders loosen slightly, and I can feel that her knee has stopped bouncing. I don’t blame her for being nervous. There’s so much on the line for her with that midterm score.
Diana’s name gets called. She stands up and pushes her chair before shaking her left wrist and heading over to his desk in the front of the classroom. When she finally reaches it, I tear my head away from the sight and try my utter fucking best to focus on just about anything else .
I’m already nervous for her.
She passed the re-do. I don’t doubt that. So why do I feel nervous?
After what feels like forever, Diana finally approaches our desk and sits down quietly. This time, her eyes are wide and her face is as red as her lips, which are pressed together as if she’s trying to contain herself.
“How did you do?”
Before she can answer, Scott resumes the lecture. Dammit, why couldn’t he wait a little longer?
She leans closer to me. “After class,” she whispers before focusing her attention back to the front of the class.
I don’t think the clock ticked slower than in this lecture.
By the time class comes to an end, I stand right outside the classroom, waiting for Diana to follow. I add my second earphone in, music in full blast, any surrounding sounds muted by the guitar strings.
I’m not sure how much time has passed, but in the next instant, I am nearly tackled to the wall by a pair of thin arms and a body. Removing both headphones and re-adjusting to my surroundings, I then see Diana in an attempt to hug me.
That catches me by surprise. I never thought of her as a hugger—or one whose love language is physical touch—but I’m not complaining.
“Thank you, thank you,” she repeats, squeezing me tighter. “Thank you.”
My arms wrap around her frame and pull her closer, soaking in this very moment. I don’t think a hug like this will be a daily occurrence for me, especially a hug from her.
“So, it’s good news?”
She pulls back with eyes brighter than the lights in the building. “Carson, I got a ninety.”
My eyes widen. “Wow, that’s crazy.”
Diana giggles. Wow, that girl just about never giggles, so it’s a surprise to hear it. This girl is just full of delightful surprises, isn’t she?
“I know, right? Granted, it’s not as high as what you got the first time, but this will save my grade, Carson. Thank you. I owe you big time.”
I shake my head in response. “No, you don’t owe me anything.”
“Like hell, I don’t,” she protests. “I will pay you back for this in some way.”
“D, you don’t need to—” I begin to say before she stops me.
“It’s one thing to pay for butterbeer but that’s all I’ve done.” She places one hand on her hip. “You really don’t know how to be selfish, do you?”
My brain comes to a screeching halt at the question. I’m not sure Diana was serious about it but that question hit me like a ton of bricks.
I know how to be selfish, right? I’ve been selfish multiple times in my life. Like how I’m always the designated driver, regardless. But then again, it puts the stress off anyone else who—
My fingers clench. Holy fuck, she might be right.
She then mutters something about running late for work, grabs her book bag from the floor, and meekly smiles at me before turning away, and briskly walking off, leaving me standing by the door without a word.
“What just happened over here?” Bailey asks as she appears right next to me.
I blink and turn to my cousin. “Geez, give a guy notice, why don’t you?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Whatever, man. Since when were you seeing someone? I didn’t think that was possible.”
“I’m not seeing anyone,” I correct her. Though, as I stare off in the direction of the library, I wish that was a lie.
Bailey doesn't need to say anything but that gleam in her eyes speaks many words. Five of them being: I'm in real fucking deep.