Page 134 of Twisted Needs

“How much money?”

Plaid reaches for a packet sitting beside his keyboard. “Well,” he says carefully, dragging the word out in a way that instantly spikes my anxiety, “Dr. Markut needed a graduate teaching assistant.”

I stare at him.

“And,” Plaid continues, shuffling through the papers, “he specifically requested you.”

My brain short-circuits a little at that. “Dr. Markut?”

“The very same.”

“But he hates me.”

Plaid barks out a laugh. “No, he doesn’t. It’s called tough love, Anderson.” I stare at him blankly. Plaid grins and finally slides the packet across the desk toward me. “Full tuition,” he says casually. “Housing stipend. Regular stipend on top of that.”

The room goes quiet. Like, genuinely quiet. I think he keeps talking after that, but suddenly all I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears.

I look down at the packet without touching it. Full tuition. Housing stipend. GTA position. Requested by Dr. Markut.

I swallow hard. “Really?” The word comes out embarrassingly quiet.

Plaid’s expression softens immediately. “Yes, really.”

I stare at the papers another second before finally picking them up. The packet shakes a little in my hands. I don’t even remember applying for this. I remember talking vaguely about graduate school to Markut back in August. I remember joking about surviving another two years in D.C. But this? This feels so fucking unreal.

“You have two months to officially decide,” Plaid says. “But selfishly, I’d appreciate an answer sooner.”

“Why?”

“So I don’t have to hunt you down through the Pits of Hell after graduation.”

I laugh suddenly. “That’s fair,” I manage, still riding the wave of shock.

Plaid watches me carefully over the rim of his mug. “You worked hard for this, Anders,” he says quietly. “Don’t act surprised.”

By the time I leave the advising building, my entire body feels electric.

The cold air outside hits my face hard enough to sting, but I barely notice it. Students flood the sidewalks around me laughing and talking and dragging backpacks behind them while the late afternoon sun throws gold across the brick pathways. I stop halfway down the steps and look at the packet again just to make sure the words are still there. I actually fucking did it. I keep looking down at it like it might disappear if I stop checking.

But it’s real.

The front door barely has time to slam shut behind me before Parker’s voice carries down the hallway. “You home?”

Warmth blooms instantly in my chest. I kick my shoes off messily by the door, grinning so hard my face already hurts. “Yeah,” I call back, shrugging out of my jacket. “Where are you?”

“In here.”

I follow the sound of his voice toward the office, pulse buzzing beneath my skin. I don’t even think I’ve fully processed what happened yet. Everything still feels unreal. My advisor’s smile. The number attached to the offer.

Parker glances up the second I appear in the doorway. The look on his face changes immediately. Softening like it always does when he sees me. Looking more like a sexy professor than a professional athlete, his reading glasses are still perched low on his nose, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He pushes back from the desk slowly, eyes scanning my face once.

“You’re home late,” he murmurs. “What’s going on?”

I can’t hold it in another second. “I got offered a full tuition scholarship and a paid GTA position.”

For half a second, Parker just stares at me. Then his entire face lights up. “For Georgetown?”

“Yeah,” I laugh breathlessly. “Yeah.”