She leans back, her face absolutely glowing and eyes shining with happiness. “Hi. Ready to go grab lunch?”
“Mh-mm.”
I peck her lips a few more times before pulling away, grabbing her hand, threading our fingers together, and leading her down the hall. Her opposite hand curls around my tricep, her head resting against my bicep as we walk out of the science building and into the chilly December air.
“How did the final go?” I ask as we walk across campus.
“Good. Everyone passed and left me a good review for Professor Cooper.”
“That’s great,” I state, kissing the top of her head.
“Yeah, I’m just glad everyone passed.” She sighs in relief, knowing it will reflect well on her and prove her teaching capabilities.
I hum in acknowledgment, happy for her. “Of course they would with you as their TA.”
She gives me a grateful smile and plants a delicate kiss on my arm, making my heart melt.
“How are you feeling?” I ask softly, changing the subject, my thumb rubbing circles into the back of her hand.
She looks up at me with confusion, a small knot forming between her brows.
“After last night,” I clarify.
“Oh.” Her eyes light with realization. “Uh, good,” she says, suddenly becoming shy.
I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips, finding her adorable.
She clears her throat, desperate to change topics. “How was your morning?”
I refrain from making a crude joke about missing and only thinking about her while she was gone.
“Good. Really good, actually,” I admit, breathing out an airy chuckle, an uncontrollable, goofy smile making its way onto my lips. After I got up and got ready, good news upon good news just fell into my lap this morning. “A lot happened while you were gone.”
She arches a dark brow, a curious smile teasing her lips. “Oh?”
“Mh-mm. I’ll tell you over lunch.”
She continues walking toward the school’s cafeteria, her body jerking and stumbling backward—her hand still in mine—when I unexpectedly turn right and heading toward the parking lot.
She lets out a little noise of surprise. “Where are you going?”
“To get some real food,” I state.
>> <<
After the waitress leaves our table to go fill our orders, Olivia scoots forward in her seat, crossing her arms over the tabletop. “Well, what’s your good news?” she asks, bouncing with excitement and interest.
The smell of grease hangs in the air and the soft sizzle of the oil in the fryers behind the counter increases in volume when the kitchen staff drop another load of fries in. For lunch I brought Olivia to a popular burger joint off campus to celebrate the end of finals week and reward ourselves for not only making it through finals, but for also making it through all the other unexpected bullshit thrown at us.
I comfortably recline back in the booth, debating where to start, still feeling the ecstasy of the high I’m currently on—have been on since last night—slide through my veins. I swear, it feels like I’ve hit the jackpot and luck is finally on my side.
I list all my good news the way I received it this morning, in chronological order. Normally, I’m never one to enjoy phone calls—hell, half the time I don’t even answer them—but today they just kept rolling in, one after the other, withgoodnews. I didn’t even have a single spam caller.
“School called me this morning,” I start off, watching her expression sober. “Quinton is being expelled,” I say flatly, trying not to show any emotion in order to gauge her honest reaction.
Her expression is almost stoic, neutral as she absorbs the information, but I can tell she’s conflicted. At the end of the day, she, Delilah, and Rat Boy were a pretty tight-knit friend group for the past four years. But that doesn’t excuse his behavior. He purposefully hurt her for revenge.
I go on to explain that the school brought him in this morning for questioning and he squealed like the little rat he is. He confessed that Adrianna approached him and originally came up with the plan to pull the fire alarm and sneak into my room to mess with my alarm clocks, making me miss the lab final. He said she paid him to help her.
