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With books in hand, I cross the lawn toward the College of Engineering library, my reassigned workplace.
It’s my senior year, and classes are back in session. It’s been a month since I caught Cal with someone else, and it’s time to figure out what I’m going to do with my life.
When I first moved to campus, as a freshman, my parents, the well respected Nora and Thomas Cunning, were reluctant to even let me attend this university. Columbia or New York University were more their expectations, but I didn’t belong at either of those schools. This Midwest university, far away from New York, with a prominent art program was more fitting for a girl like me, so I fought tooth and nail to get here.
My mind has been free to explore and discover. I found my home.
And then, after almost three years of studies, I found Cal.
What a pipe dream he turned out to be.
The beginning of our relationship was all the things a girl could want from an interested sexy boyfriend—flowers, music, and incredible sex. Of course, my mother hated him, which was an added bonus. In retrospect, he and I were falling apart for some time, even before I went back to New York for the summer. He often cancelled plans at the last minute, and we rarely spent time at his place in those latter months.
He was always busy, which I now realize was code for not wanting to hang out with me. I’m calling it a clear case of denial on my part. My absence only solidified the inevitable. While I was filing archives in a prestigious art museum, Cal was filing his dick in other compartments. Technically, they were women, but I like to take a more abstract approach to protect my emotions.
Thankfully, there’s little chance of us seeing one another in the near future. Cal quit school last year to spend more time with the band, so I won’t be seeing him in any of my art classes, which is where we met in the first place.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket, alerting me to a call. It’s Chandra.
“Hey, sexy lady,” I say, winded from being in a hurry to make my shift. “What’s up?”
“Not much,” Chandra replies. “Do you mind if I borrow your blue dress?”
“Which one?”
“With the low-cut back and the—”
“Plunging neckline?” I say, completing her sentence. “What’s the occasion?”
“Jeremy asked me out,” she singsongs. “He’s taking me to that sushi restaurant downtown, the new one by the water.”
“Architecture Jeremy with the dark hair and green eyes? And the kissable lips?”
“Yes, that’s the one. You remembered.”
“I couldn’t forget. You talked about him all weekend.”
“Did not!”
“You were even saying his name in your sleep.”
She pauses. “I was?”
“Nah, but I bet you’ve been dreaming about him. I have been, and I’ve never even seen the guy. You must paint a really good picture. He’s a god in my mind.”
“Okay, that’s enough. Are you going to let me borrow your dress or not?”
“Of course you can borrow it. Be careful though. That dress basically guarantees you some action.”
“That’s kind of what I was hoping for.”
“Then, you will be all set.”
“Thanks, EJ.”
“No problem.”
We end the call as I reach the entrance to the library about five minutes before my night shift.
