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After texting Jason where the spare key to my apartment is so he can pick up the meals I’d prepared, I’d scrambled out of my place and just barely made it to work on time.
Of course, out of all the days to be tired, this one has to be my busiest at the library. If I’m not helping students, I’m working on projects that I promised some of the faculty I’d help them with. Between those two things and the fight I have to break up on the first floor, I feel like I’m running around like a chicken with my head cut off.
I only pause to eat lunch. Even then, I don’t stop working. I’m answering as many emails as I can on my phone while I inhale my carrots and hummus. Just as I finish up, a text in the group chat pops up:
Jason: Grabbed the meals from your place. Thanks!
Trip: Meals?
Jason: Dollie played chef and made me, mom, and dad lunch and dinner for what looks like the next three days.
Trip: WHAT?
Trip: Where’s my meal, dollface?
Grant: What did she make?
Jason: She made a few different things.
Jason sends a picture of the pile of Tupperware containers I’d prepared the meals in. I could’ve stuck to one meal, but since I’d committed, I figured preparing a few meals to have in their freezer wouldn’t hurt. Immediately, there’s a response from the others.
Grant: Save one of those for us. I have practice tonight and there’s no food in the fridge.
Jason: Nope, these go to my parents.
Jason: Trip, it’s your turn to go to the grocery store.
Trip: Wait a damn minute. Why do your parents get meals made and not my dad?
Jason: Should’ve threatened her.
Trip: Noted.
I roll my eyes and reply:
Me: I’m not your chef. If you force me to make you something, just know I can’t promise I won’t add laxatives to the ingredient list.
There’s a short pause before my phone vibrates again.
Grant: I don’t think my professor appreciated my laughter in the middle of his lecture, dollface. Don’t you dare cause me to lose participation points.
I snort in amusement and pocket my phone.
The rest of the day goes by in a blur. By the time I get home, I barely make it to bed before I’m out like a light.
* * *
The followingday is just as busy as yesterday. Feeling a bit overwhelmed, I ignore the constant buzzing of my phone in my pocket.
“Hey, Dora just texted me asking if I’ll cover her shift tonight,” Jonathan says as I make it back to our shared desk after running downstairs. “I have the kids while Brenda goes to visit her sister so I can’t, so just expect a text from her any minute. I’m sure you’re next on her list to ask.”
My phone vibrates, as if the universe was waiting for its cue. Holding back a heavy sigh, I pull it out and hide it behind the taller section of the counter so students won’t see me distracted. There are thirty-one missed texts in the group chat with my blackmailers, fifty-seven from Pianna, and two texts from Dora.
Dora: I’m super sick and Barbara is out of town at her mini conference. Any chance you can take my shift tonight?
Dora: Megan already took off, so you’d be by yourself, but it’s our slowest day of the week. You should be alright.
“You called it,” I muttered.
