And then the wait begins.
That afternoon, I shoot the puck around in the driveway with Kody when we need a break from studying, and I play video games with River, BJ, and Quinn when my brain can’t handle more information. But time feels like it’s moving backwards.
I have two more exams, and I’m aware that final grades aren’t due until after the exam period has finished. I know better than to reach out before the grades have been submitted.
Thankfully my lastexam happens to fall on final exam day, which means I have a reason to stick around campus right to the end. On Friday afternoon, when exams are done, I fight the urge to stop by Clover’s place. Instead, I end up at the barwith a few of the guys from the team. Even Quinn shows up for a bit, but he’s scarce this semester, only around for hockey, and otherwise locked in his room studying. He had a breakup awhile back and I don’t think he’s getting over it. His one mistake in the form of Bethany early in the semester seemed to be the beginning and the end of things on the dating front from what BJ tells me.
I order a beer and nurse it, watching the clock. Since I passed over my final creative writing paper at the beginning of the week, the grade should be in by now, even though the deadline isn’t until tomorrow.
I glance around at my teammates to make sure none of them are paying attention to me as I pull Clover’s contact up on my phone. I don’t know what protocol is here. Do I wait for her to reach out? Is she waiting on me?
I open the thread and see humping dots, indicating that she’s composing a message. I wait for something to come through, but the dots continue to hump along the screen until it goes blank again.
I send a message of my own:
Maverick: ?
I don’t know if this is a standoff or what, but I’m tired of waiting. And really, I can’t see her being the one to step over the line. It has to be me. I throw a twenty on the table and leave the bar.
19
NO MORE WALLS
Clover
Two hours ago, my TA emailed the final story grades for my creative writing class. Ninety minutes ago, I submitted them. I’ve been sitting in my living room ever since with my phone in my hand, text message composed, my finger hovering over the send button. The screen goes blank every five minutes.
Fifteen minutes ago, Maverick sent a question mark.
I know I should decide one way or the other. But now that I’m here, at the end of the semester, I don’t know what the right choice is anymore.
The knock on the door startles me, and for a moment I worry that Gabriel is showing up unexpectedly again. It’s late, though, and the knock is coming from the back door, not the front.
Maverick’s last exam finished hours ago. And I haven’t seen him since he left my office last week.
I push out of my chair and cross the living room on unsteady legs, phone still in my hand. He stands on my back deck, wearing dress shoes, black pants, a gray button-down, and a black wool jacket—the kind someone would wear for a nice dinner out. He looks older. Refined. Not like a student.
He tucks one hand in his pocket and quirks a brow.
I hit send on the message:
Clover: Submitted
He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and the right side of his mouth tips up in a questioning half grin that makes my stomach flutter. He taps the door handle, and I drop my phone on the dining room table and open it for him.
Snow swirls in the air, melting in his hair as he steps in out of the cold. “When did you submit them?”
“Ninety-seven minutes ago.” I try to smile, but my nerves make it feel strained. “And I had my TA grade your final, just like everything else.”
I won’t jeopardize his chances at a future, or my own. This tells me everything I need to know about where I am with him, even if I’ve been trying to weave a different narrative until now.
“So I’m not your student anymore.” He shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it over the back of a chair.
“You’re not my student anymore, but you’re stillastudent.” It’s a weak argument, but I’m struggling with what it means if I do this.
He tips his head fractionally. “You need to do this dance with me one more time?”
I bring my fingers to my lips and drop my head.
