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“I love that sentence,” he added, stuffing his face into the curve of my shoulder, breathing in my hair.
While he coughed on the dark strands, I let myself sink into contented sleep.
The loud shrill of Owen’s alarm pulled me out of my sleep. Everything was cotton and fog between my ears, and throbbing soreness between my legs.
“Ugh!” I groaned, flopping over in bed and pulling the blanket higher up my naked body.
Owen’s arm moved from around me and I knew he was on his back, rubbing his eyes like he did most morning to try and wake up.
“How do you feel?” he asked me with his gravelly morning voice.
“Sore,” I admitted.
“Now that you’ve experienced the aftermath, you think you want to do it again?”
I barked out a laugh, then cracked one eye open to look at him, sprawled on his back just like I’d imagined.
“Yes. Just not every day, or I’ll develop a permanent limp.”
Owen laughed heartily, then climbed out of bed.
“C’mon beautiful, let’s get showered and off to school.”
I complained, but followed him.
There was no funny business in the shower, just cleaning and basking in the hot water until we had approximately fifteen minutes to get to school, which was ten minutes away according to Owen’s watch.
We carried our bags down the elevator, then returned the room key. After that, we were home free.
We climbed out of his car just as his phone rang.
“It’s the Dean, I gotta take this,” he said before waving goodbye as he put the phone to his ear.
Not three minutes later, my phone rang too, with an unknown number showing on my screen.
My gut reaction was to take the call, despite the likelihood that it was a sales call. Luckily, they’d already called roll, so I could slip out of class to take it.
“Hello?” I answered quietly in the hall.
“Ms. Miller, this is Angela from the Dean’s office. He would like you to come meet with him at nine. Our records show that you do not have a class at that time, correct?”
“Correct,” I agreed, though my stomach instantly roiled with nerves.
“Sure, I’ll go,” I agreed, my voice trembling. “C-can you tell me what it’s about?”
“Sorry,” she said with a chuckle, “I don’t know all the details, I just arrange his appointments.”
Her blasé attitude reassured me that it wasn’t what I dreaded it would be. But, then again, the Dean had called Owen on the way into school.
After hanging up, I snuck back into my class, but my knee was bouncing like crazy and I couldn’t pay attention to anything the professor was saying about economics.
My phone vibrated in my hand and I quickly looked at it.
Owen: Did you get a call from the Dean’s office?
Me: Yes, a few minutes ago. They want to meet at nine.
Owen: Shit
