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“Why write it down when I have the syllabus, the online portal, and my phone calendar?” That was how I handled my assignments due before, with a million reminders.
High school wasn’t so bad, I was able to coast through. I wasn’t at the top of my class, but I wasn’t flunking either. For some reason, freshman year of college really threw me off. It’s how I ended up in academic jeopardy, to the point my advisor had to send me the letter shoved into the back of my desk drawer.
“This is a psychological trick. You’re more likely to remember a task when you physically write it down.”
I nod along, absently twirling a spare pen between my fingers. She talks about her goals so regularly that I’m used to her slipping psychological tid bits into conversation. Part of me wishes I could find that same thing that makes me give a damn about my academics the same as it has for her.
The only thing I can safely say comes anywhere close to her level of passion and dedication is my love of surfing. But I’m not good enough to compete. Three Olympic surfers have come out of our regional area. They’re still in the prime of their careers. If I’d started thinking about it sooner, maybe I could’ve trained more, but the thought of traveling around from competition to competition isn’t as appealing as the waves I catch here.
She shoots me a sly smirk. “How about I give you some homework this time?”
I match her expression, adjusting my backwards cap. “What do you have in mind?”
“This week, use the system. You can track your shifts at work and the tide for the best surfing.” She leans into me and sinks her teeth into her plump lower lip. The freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose stand out from the sun she got today. “If you make it through the whole week, then you get to teach me how to suck you off.”
I choke on the shocked laugh I bark out. “What?”
“You heard me,” she sasses.
I definitely did. And so did my cock. A hot throb in my groin begs me to pull her onto my lap.
I glide the tip of my tongue across my bottom lip. “Why does it sound like it’s a reward for you instead of a gold star for me?”
“You seemed to enjoy it when you did it to me.” She shrugs, playing it off. I see through the nonchalant act to the curiosity beneath her words. “I want to know what all the fuss is about. And if you’re thinking about the potential positive reinforcement for completing the work, your brain will be primed to commit to a new habit.”
I lean back in my chair, reaching behind my head to squeeze the brim of my hat between my hands. “Okay, T. I’ll do the journal tracker.”
She grins, then drops her voice to the one she uses to imitate guys. “Bet.”
Another laugh leaves me. “How do you make that sound so wrong and yet so hot coming from you at the same time?”
“It’s all in the confidence.” She winks. “It sells it.”
My lips twitch. She’s feeding my own words of wisdom back to me.
Tatum rearranges the notebooks, college textbooks, and old assignments to clear my desk. A thoughtful look settles on her face. She peeks at me through her lashes.
“So intro to humanities, statistics, and physics.” She taps her pen on the spine of the top book in the stack. “And bio this semester.”
I nod. “Most of them are basic core requirements for most degrees. Seemed like a good place to start.”
“Do you know what you want to do?”
I hitch a shoulder, working my jaw. This isn’t a conversation I enjoy having. My parents haven’t pressured me about it, but they do expect me to put effort in. I can’t coast through college without some kind of trajectory in mind.
Tatum tilts her head and hums as she studies me. “What do you like doing?” At the quirk of my brows, she adds, “I mean like what sort of things interest you when you think of what you want to do with your life.”
Shit. I can’t tell her I have no idea. But I also realize I can at least answer.
Raking my teeth over my lip, I blow out a breath. “Sports and moving around. Athletic type stuff. Surfing.”
Surfing is the big one, the thing I dedicate most of my time to. I swallow against the feeling of self-consciousness while telling this to the overachieving has-goals-and-makes-them-happen Tatum Danvers. The girl who has known what she’s wanted to do with her life since she was a kid.
Even my parents followed their passion into their health and wellness business with the yoga studio.
I’m afraid I’ve screwed up my life by not knowing yet. All the aptitude and career testing the school system put me through makes it seem like you need to pick something, but by the time I graduated from high school I hadn’t. I know at some point I have to choose.
Tatum keeps watching me. There’s no judgment or a hint that she thinks I should be more realistic with my career path like everyone else. It makes something unravel in my chest, the tension bleeding out of me.
