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There was no point in resisting his offer, so I gave in and got into his car.
“Thank you.” I took the latte from his hands. “Do you have an eight o’clock class today as well?”
“No.” He smiled and leaned over me, pulling the seatbelt over my shoulder. “I have someone I like, but since I also have the feeling that she’s going to try to make excuses for reasons why she shouldn’t give me a chance, I feel like I need to take a different approach.”
“What’s your typical approach?”
"I'm not sure," he said, steering his car onto the street. "I've never wanted a girlfriend before.”
I blushed and looked out the window. I had no words to say to that.
He dropped me off at Posvar Hall four minutes later, and as I stepped out, he gave me a smile that made butterflies flutter against my stomach.
“Do you need a ride anywhere else before our tutoring session today?” he asked.
"No." I crossed my arms, hiding a smile. "But you know, I don't think you need a peer tutor. Something tells me you would make A's without my help."
“Are you quitting?”
“No,” I said. “I just don’t think we need to call them ‘tutoring sessions’ anymore, especially since we only talk about your work for five minutes.”
“So, does that mean I don’t need to bring my work anymore?”
“I didn’t say that.” I shut his car door and laughed. “See you later.”
CHARLOTTE: THEN
Seven years ago
Pittsburgh
SOMETHING WAS WRONG with me. Something severe.
That was the only plausible explanation as to why I was staring at my cell phone like a love-sick teenager, waiting for Grayson to call me tonight. I was now accustomed to hearing his voice at the end of every day, talking to him about anything and everything until sunrise.
In addition to our never-ending phone calls, Grayson continued to pick me up every morning and take me to class—hot latte, sweet kiss, and bagel included. Our Tuesdays were still our best days—a set place and time to discuss his dreams about the NFL and my conflicting dreams for art and law. His game days, a perfect mix of football and dirty post-game kisses, were the highlight of my week (Even though I refused to admit it). I was finding it quite ironic that he was far more of a gentleman than all the guys I dated before, but even though he made it a point to kiss me like no other guy could at the end of every meet-up, I was still hesitant to label whatever we were doing as “dating.”
My phone vibrated at exactly ten thirty, but before I could pick it up, Nadira swiped it off my desk.
“Hello?” she answered, giving me an ‘I’m so tired of this shit’ look. “I’m aware that I’ not Charlotte, Grayson. I’m taking this call as her annoyed roommate.”
I tried to take the phone away from her, but she overpowered me and moved across the room.
“Here’s the thing,” she said to him. “I have two practical exams and a paper that I have to defend in the morning. I need my sleep, but whenever you call her, I end up staying up until sunrise because the two of you can’t seem to shut up.”
I heard his deep laughter and a “My apologies” through the speakers.
“Apology not accepted.” She walked over to my closet and pulled out a jacket. Then she tossed it to me. "Charlotte's phone is going to stay with me tonight, and it's going to remain off. If you want to talk to her, you can meet her in our lobby."
He laughed again. “Tell her I’ll be there in ten minutes. Have a good night, Nadira.”
“I definitely will now.” She ended the call and tossed my phone into her lockbox. “You’re welcome.”
“What exactly am I thanking you for?”
“I don’t know.” She pulled her sheets back and crawled into bed. “It sounded like the right thing to say at the time.”
“I didn’t realize we were keeping you up.”
“You still are.” She pointed to the door. “And to make matters worse, you always have the audacity to talk to me for an additional few hours and question his motives. I think it’s pretty clear that he likes you at this point.”
“You don’t think Grayson just wants to fuck me?”
"Of course he wants to fuck you, Charlotte." She looked at me like I was crazy. "Hell, if I were into women, I would want to fuck you—you're stunning. But I don't think that's all he wants, and I don't know any guy who would do as much as he's done if he only wanted sex. If that were the case, he would've given up when you made him work for your phone number."
“So, you think he’ll eventually want us to be more than—”
"No, no, no." She interrupted me and pointed to the door. "Hold that thought for discussion tomorrow. Your mouth is still moving, which means I'm still not sleeping."
