There was some coffee involved in our sessions, and they definitely leaned toward the realm of study dates, but Noah was very firm about not calling them dates. Even platonic ones.
Which is probably for the best, because he kept accepting calls and taking them in the hallway so I wouldn’t overhear. That’d be rude on dates, but as it was, I just kept wondering who the heck was calling him.
Turns out spending hours studying with an expert every day can quickly catch one up on years’ worth of fundamentals, because we just wrapped up studying for today, and Noah thinks I’m ready for tomorrow’s test.
I tried not to preen.
Shoot, I’m late for my night class.
Wish me luck tomorrow!
Emma
* * *
Selecting History of Opera as a night class during registration wasn’t one of my brightest moments. Maybe they should’ve named it History of Lullabies, because by the end of the first hour, I was digging both elbows into the top of my desk in an effort to keep my chin propped up on both palms.
And we were only halfway through the class period.
I couldn’t even distract myself by looking at Noah since he’d sat a few rows behind me.
“In contrast, the 17th century opened new doors for Italian opera,” Professor Whidden droned on as she flipped through slides on the projector. She wore a blue dress that reminded me of a plump peacock, and her grey hair was pulled taut in a low bun. “This occurred when Christoph Willibald Gluck introduced reform operas in the 1760s. This semester, we’ll be taking a closer look at how he broke the stranglehold Metastasian opera held for the bulk of that century.”
As Whidden continued down a monotone path that I didn’t much care to follow, my phone vibrated from its snug home in the waistband of my shorts and startled me enough I jumped an inch off the chair.
I cleared my throat and tried to tamp down the blush that rose as a few bored students glanced over. After waiting a few seconds for them to look away, I covertly slipped the phone out of my shorts without flashing my panties at the jock on my left. My hands darted underneath the worn desk, and I made quick work of opening the text as I slouched further.
Cupcake Thief: Why do they call the little candy bars “fun size”? Wouldn’t it be more fun to eat a big one?
I pursed my lips to contain a snicker. Where had this boy come from?
My thumbs flew across the screen.
Emma: Depends. What kind of candy are you eating, and how much are you going to share with me?
Cupcake Thief: Oops. Is it bad to say I already ate it all? And it was a Milky Way.
Emma: Milky Ways are fun in all sizes. Unlike opera. Opera is never fun.
Cupcake Thief: At the opera now? Andtexting? You wicked girl. ;)
Emma: History of Opera class, and I never claimed to be good.
Cupcake Thief: Stealing cupcakes from a catering van and snoozing on the job. You always were a wild one.
Emma: My boss said I could have that cupcake! And I still haven’t had a chance to taste one because of you.
Cupcake Thief: I’ll make it up to you.
Emma: By rubbing it in and telling me how yummy it was again?
Finn didn’t respond right away, and I bit my lip as my eyes remained riveted to the screen. I wasn’t sure why I enjoyed his bantering so much; I just knew I did.
Not a minute later, a picture came through. My eyebrows rose, but I opened it with only a hint of hesitation. I almost snorted when I saw a fun-size Milky Way sitting innocently on his sun-kissed palm.
Cupcake Thief: I lied. There’s one left. I’ll save it for you.
I slouched further against the seat, unable to stop a smile from forming. Opera was completely forgotten, and I tapped the toes of my white Keds together as I typed back.
