How are you feeling?
Fine.
Are you sure? You look sleepy.
That’s the polite way to tell someone they look like shit.
That’s not what I meant, and you know it.
I know. Yes, I could take a nap, but I can’t skip any more classes.
It’s only January and the start of a new semester, but I have a goal to not miss class as much as I did last fall. Some parts of life are out of my control, so I need to start putting my focus on the things I can control. Things such as my current living situation, my bank account, my education, and the big one: my health.
I have a good idea about how I want them to all work out—it’s putting the plan into motion that gets me all hung up. Currently, living on my best friend’s couch isn’t ideal, but I can’t move into the apartment where I signed a contract for another six weeks. The current tenants gave a sixty-day notice, and I was lucky as hell that I happened to be in Love’s A Brewing getting an iced green tea when the current landlord was meeting with someone to open an ad for the two-bedroom space.
As far as my bank account goes, well, June letting me crash rent free for six weeks does let me save up a little. The tips I make at The Stackhouse are decent, and if I start working a couple more nights a week, I’ll be okay for a bit. Eventually, I’ll need another job, but I’ll worry about that when the time is here.
“See you next Tuesday!” Professor Russell’s voice startles me. No one notices. No one except June.
“When is your next class?” she asks as soon as we gather our things and walk out of the room.
“Thirty minutes.”
“Ouch. Why do you have them so close together this semester? And why are you taking so many classes?”
Because at the beginning of the last semester, I thought I was going to end up with a man who would buy me anything I wanted, and I slacked off. Then I slept with his best friend, and everything went to shit.
“I can’t afford to take less classes this semester. Who knows if I’ll have time for school in the fall, you know?” is how I answer instead.
“Well, if you ask me—”
“Hey, Sydney. Do you have a minute?”
June and I both twist around to see Mark Young walking up behind us.
I knew this moment would come. Us, talking in person. If it wasn’t him showing up now, it was going to be me this weekend when I had a day off.
“I’ll see you later, Sydney. Call me if you need anything, okay?”
“Sure will,” I say as June hugs me goodbye.
“I’m sorry if I interrupted something, but I wanted to catch you before your next class.”
“It’s fine,” I say, and an awkward silence falls between us.
It wasn’t always like this, and I miss what it was like before.
He clears his throat. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” I look at the ground.
“I texted you.”
“I know.” I adjust the backpack on my shoulder.
“You didn’t text me back this morning.”
“You didn’t exactly start a conversation.”
