What if something else is at play?
I wonder, not for the first time, if I’m missing something. However, I don’t get the opportunity to process what this means before Dr. Monroe begins class.
“Open your books to page two hundred and thirty-seven. Today, we’ll be focusing on the interactionist theory,” she orders.
I open my text and try to follow along, but I’m distracted. My thoughts flit from interaction to interaction with the guys, hoping to glimpse anything I’ve missed. I’m so lost in my memories that I hear nothing about the tenets of the micro-sociology theory and don’t recognize that class has ended until I feel a tap on my shoulder.
“Time to go, Daydreamer,” Elias teases with a knowing grin.
Glancing around the room, I confirm the lecture has ended, and we’re one of the last to leave. I also don’t miss that August and Sebastian are whispering in the front of the room, and with each stolen glance, it’s safe to assume the conversation pertains to me.
I’m tempted to stay and see what I can glean from their body language, but my phone vibrates. A calendar notification displays on the screen, reminding me I have a crucial meeting I can’t miss.
“Thank you for your time. I look forward to the next time we meet,” I offer, standing and shaking each hand seated at the table.
“The pleasure is all ours, Miss Bradford. Should the situation in Calloway not be handled, you’ll hear from us,” the woman explains.
Nodding, I bid one last farewell and turn to exit the room. Thomas opens the door to a waiting Reign and Elias stationed outside.
“How did it go?” Reign inquires.
“Not here,” Thomas commands. “We need to get Emma safely back home first.”
I smile. “I missed your bossy ass, T.”
He shakes his head. “And I missed your stubborn one.”
Once we’re safely in the SUV, the ride home is short. My grandfather and dad were able to help coordinate this meeting near Lincolnville, about thirty minutes outside the city in North Brentwood. Far enough to be off the Fraternitas radar.
I’m barely through the door when my phone rings.
“Hey, Dad. We just got back.”
“Good. I was just checking on you. Your grandfather and I will be by tomorrow. Have the chef set the table for ten,” he instructs.
I bite the inside of my cheek, swallowing the protest building in my chest. I desperately want to discuss the outcome of the meeting, but we can’t risk anyone tapping the line and overhearing.
Inhaling, I finally respond. “Okay. I’ll see you all tomorrow, then.”
When a few seconds pass without a response, I pull the phone from my ear and check to see if the call is still connected.
My lips part, preparing to ask if everything’s okay when he finally speaks. “I’m proud of you, Ry. We’re closer to the end.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I reply, appreciating his encouragement. We say our goodbyes and then disconnect the call.
Kicking off my shoes, I contemplate if I want to go to the kitchen and grab a snack or fall into bed. I decide to head upstairs and shower before I find Shay. But locating her isn’t a problem. By the time I’m dressed in my matching black sleep shorts and tank, she’s already on my bed waiting.
“I know you can’t say much, but blink twice if everything worked out,” she requests.
“What are we in? A spy novel?” I joke.
She rolls her eyes. “You couldn’t humor me, even just a little bit?”
Snorting, I blink twice, and her eyes bulge before she schools her features.
“You’d be a terrible spy. Don’t quit your day job,” I quip.
Shay launches a pillow from my bed at my face. “You wound me.”
“Yet somehow your flare for the dramatic is always spot on,” I giggle, tossing the pillow back at her.
“Did you hear about the party the guys are throwing next weekend?” She asks.
Sighing, I dip my chin. “Yes, that’s all anyone can talk about.”
“I know we’re not going to that, for obvious reasons,” she flicks her head to my stomach, which grows more prominent by the week. “But we can go to the football game in two weeks. It’s for homecoming week.”
Focusing my gaze, I stare her in the eyes, ready to protest, but she continues.
“Come on, Ry. You can’t let them rob you of every college experience. Plus, all the alumni will be here, and it’s tradition to watch the game.”
At the reminder that alums will be here, I remember my dad discussing attending a few events this month at LWU.
“Fine,” I groan. I’m excited about football, just not some of the players. Specifically, four of them and the one who will undoubtedly be in the audience with the hag cheering them on. “This is going to be a disaster.”
“Nope, not even Samantha will act up. With all the alumni here, she’ll be forced to be a person for once.”
I cross my arms. “Because adults have ever been a deterrent for her,” I mutter.
Shay concedes the point, and our conversation shifts to our week at school. I confess the moment of idiocy I had during sociology.
“You’re not an idiot,” she exclaims. “Did you have a moment of weakness? Absolutely. But that’s to be expected. Feelings don’t shut off overnight. They’re the only dumbasses I see.”
I allow her words to sink in. I’m not allowing myself any grace. I had. . . have genuine feelings for them.
Shay’s right.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.