Professor Stirling turns away to start writing something on the blackboard, and Sam makes kissy faces at me, prompting me to mime stabbing him with my pen.
I start scribbling in my notebook, trying my best to ignore my friend. It doesn’t matter how hot the professor is for this class. I need to keep my GPA up this year so I can get into the best clinic for my practicum. I want my pick of clinics, and that won’t happen unless I have a perfect GPA. I can’t get distracted… no matter how tempting being distracted by the good-looking professor may be. I need to secure a place in the best clinic available for my clinical experience so I can hopefully get a job straight out of the program, possibly with the clinic that takes me on. The last thing I want is to return home with my tail between my legs.
I need this. To stay in Washington without relying on my mother to help me out, I need to ace my Master’s program, and some hot professor isn’t going to get in the way of that.
The rest of class went smoothly,though the professor assigned us homework on the first day, which felt fucked up to me.
“You could not stop staring at him,” Sam squeals as we make our way down the hall.
“He’s our professor and was literally giving a lecture. Where else was I supposed to look?”
“Did you see when he rolled up his shirt sleeves?” Sam barrels on as if I hadn’t said anything. “I’m sorry, was that not straight out of those romance novels I read?”
“You mean your erotica?” I snort. “I’m sure those dudes do that all the time. Just like I’m sure he knows how attractive he is and gets a kick out of half the class salivating over him.”
“Oh, please, it was way more than half the class.”
I roll my eyes and decide not to dignify that with a response. We make it outside, basking in the still warm September sun. I unlock my tan Toyota Prius as Sam bounds over to his red Subaru. “The Pour House?” I call after him.
He shakes his head. “Can’t tonight, got a hot date.” He winks.
“Of course,” I laugh. “Well, I’ll catch you tomorrow then.”
He smiles and waves before zooming out of the parking lot.
Sam had gotten both of us coveted parking passes due to hisfriendshipwith a guy who worked in the main office on campus. Since the passes were normally a hundred dollars a semesterand had a waiting list longer than the mock treatment and intervention plan I had to create last spring, I had no qualms about how Sam got us the passes.
I slowly pull out of the parking lot, in no hurry to go back to my studio apartment. Sam had asked me to be his roommate, but I declined, knowing I needed my own space to focus on school. The distractions of friends and the inevitable parties Sam throws would throw me off my game.
Luckily for me, financial aid covered most of the apartment’s cost, and my savings covered the rest. Is it glamorous? Absolutely not. I have to park three blocks away because there’s no parking nearby, and the elevator is almost always broken, so I have to walk up nine flights of stairs daily, but I make do.
It’s something I can afford on my own, with the help of financial aid, without relying on my mother’s kindness. She cares… in her own way. But anytime she helped out, it left me in a spot where we both felt I owed her.
I bought you that car so you could visit more often, Summer.
I thought that if I helped with your loans so you didn’t need a job during school, you’d at least be willing to try going on a few dates.
So what if it’s a blind date with my gynecologist’s son? He’s getting his PhD! You’re not getting any younger, you know.
My mother didn’t take no for an answer most days. So any way that I can avoid taking charity from her is considered a win in my book.
My phone starts buzzing as I parallel park, and I quickly answer it, holding it between my cheek and shoulder as I narrowly avoid scraping a Tesla in front of me.
“Hello?” My mother’s voice comes from the other line.
Speak of the devil.
“Hey, Mom,” I say as I throw the car into park. “What’s up?”
“Are you coming home to visit this weekend?”
I lug my bag out of the passenger seat, lock my car, and start to make the long trek to my apartment. “I was just there this past weekend, Mom,” I respond. “You know I don’t like leaving until I’m all settled in my courses.”
“Yes, well, I just thought maybe you could make an exception since Laurie’s son is in town.”
“The dentist?” I ask, scrunching my nose.
“You know they make quite a lot of money, Summer,” she deadpans.
