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“And you think I’ve seen it? I don’t watch shit like that. It’s a chick show.”
“How do I know what you watch? We have to fix this.” I raised my hand, waiting for Professor Garcia to turn and catch my frenzied hand waving.
“Yes? Do you need something, London?” Both hands were on her hips.
“Thanks for coming back over.” I swallowed hard, thinking my voice sounded small and quiet. “My partner and I were wondering if we could maybe trade in our show. Neither one of us has ever seen it.” I smiled sweetly and kept my eyes wide, pleading with the professor to dole out some sympathy on our situation.
“That’s perfect! You have the best scenario in the class. You can start fresh and unbiased. Open your minds to the possibilities ahead of you.”
Beau handed the card back to the instructor. “What I think London is trying to say is that we want another show.”
I shrank back in my seat when I saw her eyebrows repositioned to the top of her forehead. “Is it Beau?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“This isn’t kindergarten where you get to swap out things because you don’t like them. You drew the card. You take it or you fail the class.”
The card hung between them. Neither was backing down. I snatched it from Beau’s hand and tucked it in my notebook.
“Thank you, Professor Garcia. We can handle it.”
Her gaze softened. “Good. I look forward to your presentation at the end of the semester. And, London, I’ve heard such rave reviews about you from my colleagues, so I’m expecting something extraordinary from you.” Grinding her heels into the floor, she walked toward a gawking pair of our classmates.
“Are you trying to get on her bad side or something?” I hissed at Beau.
“I don’t really care what side I’m on with her. This show is stupid. We should be able to trade out for another one. And what are you? Some kind of college teacher’s pet?”
“Well, we can’t trade. So stop making it worse.” I took a deep breath. “This is the last class I need to graduate; it means something to me. I can’t fail. And, no, I’m not a teacher’s pet—just a really good student.”
I shoved my notebook in the zipper pocket, heaved my backpack on my shoulder, and bolted through the swinging door at the top of the auditorium. I didn’t know how much more of Beau Anderson’s nonchalant attitude I could take. It was obvious he didn’t care about the class or our partnership. He probably didn’t even need the course for his major. I would just have to ace this one on my own.
“London. Hey, wait up. Where are you going?” Beau half-jogged toward me through the empty hallway. The classroom doors were closed on either side of us, and I could see furious note taking through the glass windows.
My thumbs were tucked through my shoulder straps. Quick, think of something cool to say. I probably looked like I just freaked out in class in a less than rational freak-out kind of way. “I thought I would get a head start on watching some of the Love Match episodes.”
“Uh. Ok. That’s cool, but don’t you think we should watch some together? You seem kind of pissed at me.” He was fidgeting with the bill of his hat.
I started feeling guilty. “Sorry. It’s just that I need this class. And if you hate the show, I figure I’m going to have to do it on my own. I’m going to get an A on this project.” Jeez, I sound like a super nerd.
Beau retrieved his phone from his back pocket. “Ok, what’s your number?”
“My number?”
“Yeah, so we can talk about the show?” His right eyebrow was arched higher than the other.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s 967-1101.” I watched as he tapped the digits into his contact list.
Two seconds later, my phone buzzed in my bag. “That’s me. Just save my number.”
Standing in the cold hallway of Manning, I felt my resistance to my unwanted partner warm a few degrees. Maybe he was genuinely interested in trying to share the responsibility for this God-awful project.
“After you watch a few episodes, let me know what it’s about.”
Ok, maybe not.
“Are you serious? If you think I’m going to do this project for you, you’re wrong, Beau Anderson.”
“Whoa. I was kidding.” He backed up and threw his hands in the air. “You’re not much for jokes are you?”
