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My pencil hovered over the sketchbook, the tip grazing the creamy paper. Instead of the clean lines and geometric patterns we discussed, all I could see were potential threats hiding behind every corner of the lecture hall. A chill ran down my spine, not entirely due to the icy draft seeping through the old windows.
I tried to refocus to let the professor's discussion on the influences of modern design sink in. Snippets of his lecture drifted in and out of my consciousness, the theories, and philosophies intertwining with the fear Brad had voiced earlier.
As the class continued, the weight of my plight seemed to grow heavier, drawing me further away from the world of design and deeper into the world of subterfuge that had become my life.
Emerging from the cocoon of my afternoon math class, the icy wind greeted me again as though it had been patiently waiting all day. The small classroom was already a distant memory, replaced by the reality of the sprawling campus around me, windswept and bathed in the fading light of the afternoon.
"There you are!" The familiar voice was a beacon of hope, and I squinted to see Brad hustling over, his breath pluming with every step.
I offered him a faint smile. "Hey," I greeted, tugging at the ends of my scarf.
"How was class?" he asked, concern flickering in his gaze.
"It was…" I paused, words failing to capture the state of my distracted mind. "Okay. Just okay."
Brad seemed to understand, his expression softening as he threw an arm around my shoulders. "Let's get you warmed up. The dorm isn't too far."
As we neared the main entrance, a misplaced detail caught my eye—a FedEx delivery left carelessly at the doorstep. "Hold on," I broke away from Brad, curiously approaching the package.
"Brought to you by your favorite boyfriend," Brad chimed in, an amused glint in his eyes. The playful admission caught me off-guard as I crouched to inspect the parcel.
My name was scrawled across the package in messy handwriting, triggering a faint recollection that I couldn't place.
“I wonder what this is?” I inquired, lifting the box and standing back up.
Brad met my gaze with a hint of mischief. "That," he said, "is something you'll have to find out for yourself."
Inside the dorm, I deposited my bag and winter layers on a nearby chair, cradling the FedEx box in my hands with growing curiosity. The dormitory was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the icy chill outside, and the welcoming familiarity allowed a momentary reprieve from my anxieties.
"Are you going to open it or just stare at it all day?" Brad's voice jolted me from my thoughts, a playful grin playing on his lips.
"Well, I'm trying to guess what's inside," I retorted, placing the box on the small coffee table and taking a seat on the couch, Brad following suit.
With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, he leaned back, watching me intently. "Go on then. Open it!"
A moment's hesitation gave way to curiosity as I carefully peeled away the packaging tape. Opening the box, I found a familiar object nestled inside – the flip phone Brad had sent from San Diego last week. An amused chuckle escaped my lips, and I glanced over at him, my cheeks heating up in mild embarrassment.
"I can't believe I didn't realize what it was," I muttered, holding up the phone. "I mean, I had to send that crazy Signal message to you because it hadn't come yet. I'm getting so forgetful."
Brad burst out laughing, his deep chuckle filling the room. "So, how does being a secret agent with a flip phone feel? It looks just like mine." Brad pulled his out of his pocket, laughing.
My cheeks burned hotter as I playfully shoved his shoulder. "Oh, shut up," I grumbled, though I couldn't suppress my own laughter. "It's just... with everything going on, I didn't connect the dots."
"I can see that," he teased, his laughter subsiding into a soft chuckle. "But hey, it happens. Stress does strange things to people."
My smile faded slightly as I thought about the truth in his words. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of change, worry, and uncertainty, and it seemed like my mind was struggling to keep up. But as I glanced at Brad, his gaze warm and understanding, I couldn't help but feel a little bit better.
Brad took my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Don't beat yourself up about it," he advised. "You're dealing with a lot, Court. It's okay to get a little flustered."
I nodded, his words offering a comfort I didn't know I needed. Picking up the phone again, a sheepish grin spread across my face. "Well, at least now I'll always have a covert way to reach you."
Brad's answering smile was soft. "That's the idea, Court. Always. Covert or not."
After helping me set up the new phone, we decided to test it. Brad suggested I make a call to City Deli to see if there was any news. I dialed the number, my fingers trembling slightly as they navigated the small buttons. The manager picked up, his deep voice cutting through the silence of the room.
"Hi, this is Courtney Thompson," I said, my voice shaking slightly. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I was just wondering if Nanc had left a message for me?"
I could hear the manager shuffling through some papers before he responded, "Ah, yes, here it is. Nanc will give you a call back later today. Also, there's a message from someone else for you."
