Whirling around, I hustled into the classroom to find only a handful of open seats left. My plan to abort the mission was quickly foiled when I noticed that each empty seat had another empty one next to it. There was no way Noah wouldn’t make assumptions if I was sitting with two cups of coffee and an empty seat next to me. That somehow seemed worse than waiting by the door.
I hustled down the rows before slipping into a particularly squeaky desk in the middle of the room to play it safe. Neutral territory.
Professor Slade gave me a pointed look when the chair squeaked as I settled down, before returning to his papers up front. I sneaked a peek at the door to make sure Noah wasn’t moseying into the room as I contemplated hiding the evidence.
After a beat of hesitation, I smoothly slid the regular coffee onto the desk beside me and nudged the cup around until its logo faced the front of the room. Maybe it would just look like the cup of coffee meandered its way into the classroom all on its own. Like a Brave Little Toaster type deal. It wasn’t like my name was written on it anywhere.
No one would ever know.
Another beat passed, the toes of my white Keds tapping impatiently against the desk’s legs, until I frowned at the coffee cup. Was it still obvious? The other students probably saw me put it there… they might snitch to Noah.
I snatched the coffee back and nibbled on my lower lip while testing its weight in my hand.
This was a stupid idea.
Eyes straying to the classroom clock, I stifled a groan when it showed exactly one minute left before class began. The cup felt impossibly heavier in my hand, and I finally accepted that Noah would find me beyond desperate if he found me bringing him coffee.
I was pathetic.
Glaring at the to-go cup in my hand, I almost missed the guy in question slip into the room. My breath caught, my heartbeat working itself into a frenzy as I waited to see if he’d choose the seat next to mine—but he settled into an open desk in the front without even a glance in my direction.
The butterflies in my stomach weren’t sure if they should be relieved or disappointed, but my shoulders deflated a touch.
“Miss Fox, a word before class begins?” Professor Slade called from the front, and I jolted in my seat.
Feeling called out, I may have dragged my feet a little while walking up the center aisle to his desk. “Yes, sir?”
“I graded your retake from Friday,” he said, holding up a packet of papers. His voice lowered, and I leaned in to catch it. “I’m afraid I don’t have good news.”
A bright redFglared at me from the top of the page, and my heart lurched into my throat.
“It’s a small improvement percentagewise, but you’re still not grasping the material,” Slade said as he flipped through the packet before pointing out slashes of red covering half of the third page. He met my gaze through horn-rimmed glasses, and the pity swimming in his eyes froze my feet in place. “This isn’t a coveted position to be in. I’ve already given you my recommendation, but the best I can offer is if you can somehow reach and maintain a C average by midterms, you’ll have improved enough to get through the semester. If you don’t feel that’s attainable, it would be best to seek out a different program now rather than later.”
I blinked hard to hold back unexpected tears, nodding on autopilot as Slade skimmed through the rest of the quiz. He shared comments that went straight over my head.
I’d failed.
Again.
I was a failure.
My mother’s laughter rang through my head as I imagined telling her I’d lost my scholarship. My father’s knowing smirk wasn’t far behind. They would enjoy this far too much, reveling in my return home. Mother would make some excuse about me getting homesick to her socialite friends, and father would book me for recitals every week. I’d be stuck again.
Slade handed over my quiz when he finished obliterating what little confidence I had left, and I trudged back to my desk with carefully measured breaths. It wouldn’t do to burst into tears in front of all my classmates. Pretty sure I’d had nightmares about that before.
I took a sip of my sugar-loaded coffee and slumped back in the chair. My eyes sought out Noah of their own accord, and I officially regretted buying the second cup of coffee when I saw him talking to the beautiful redhead sitting next to him. I did a double take, recognizing Blaise Rousseau, his partner for the duet.
Blaise scooted her seat closer to Noah’s desk and reached over to pick up one of his fancy pens. I braced for the impending blowout, but he simply gestured a hand at the pen and said something as she inspected it with a look of admiration. Then she laughed, brushing a bouncy red curl out of her face, and my throat closed up.
What the hell?
Hadn’t Noah learned his lesson about lending out expensive writing utensils? I would’ve thought chew marks the size of Texas would be reason enough to keep his precious pens under lock and key for the rest of eternity.
Blaise laughed again, which only proved that Noah was being purposefully nice, since he wasn’tthatfunny. She said something with a smile and twirled the pen around her finger like some sort of incredibly talented pen-wielding circus performer before handing it back to him. My eyes narrowed when their fingers brushed.
I caught myself before a scoff slipped out and snapped my gaze forward to watch Slade take attendance. What did I care if Noah flirted with a girl?
Didn’t matter one bit to me.
