Ty shrugs. “Sounds about right. Ok, look, here’s what we’ll do. Show me your syllabus. Most of the essay prompts should be on there, right?”
I dig it out of my folder and slide it across the desk.
“Great. So, look atEmma. The syllabus says you’re going to analyze for social commentary on male and female norms and relationships, right?”
“That’s what it says.”
He shoots me a glare, but keeps going. “Alright, so as you annotate, I want you to look for those things.”
“Wait, as I what?”
He looks at me like I’m so dumb I just asked for instructions on how to breathe. “When you annotate. You know, like, take notes?”
I slump back in my chair. “I have no doubt the next words out of my mouth will fill you with rage, but I don’t take notes.” I swear he’s counting to ten in his head just so he doesn’t cream in frustration.
“You don’t take notes. Like, at all?”
“Not usually. I have a pretty good memory, and school has never been this hard. I’ve never gotten anything lower than a B, but now…”
“But now you need to annotate. Tell me you have highlighters somewhere in one of those bags.”
I shake my head. “No, but I have pastels...Somehow, I don’t think those will help.”
He mutters something that sounds like, “Jesus, help me,” but he reaches into his own bag and produces a fresh pack of highlighters. “Take these and grab your notebook.”
I do as I’m told as he rolls up his sleeves. Well, then. I guess we’re getting down to business. He starts to tell me what to write down, but I’m distracted. “Wait, what’s with the tattoos? I saw them when we met, but I just thought they were designs. Are they words?” I peer at the ink on his forearms, trying to make sense of the lines and swirls.
“Yea, they’re uh, they’re literary quotes.”
“Like, from books?”
“Uh, yea. That is what literary means.” Sarcasm seems to be his main form of communication, at least when I’m around.
I ignore his snark and reach for his left arm, turning it so I can get a better look. “What’s this one say? ‘That one may smile and smile and be the villain’ - Hamlet.”
His eyes are trained on the desk. It’s obvious he wants to get back to business, but I’m curious. “Yea, it’s a great line, and sadly, it’s true more often than not, at least in my experience.”
“But you have more, right?”
“I do, but I’m not stripping in the middle of the writing lab just to show you my ink.” The look in his eyes belies his statement. There’s almost a challenge in his gaze.
I smile. He may drive me crazy, but I wouldn’t complain if he wanted to tutor me shirtless. “Fine. Spoilsport. What about your right arm? What’s on there?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing yet. Still waiting for inspiration.”
“That’s actually pretty cool. I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo, but I’ve never been brave enough.”
Ty shrugs. “The pain’s not as bad as everyone makes it out to be. At least, it never is for me. The worst part is the noise--drives me nuts. So I wear earbuds and blast the shit out of my eardrums.”
“Thanks for the tip.” I laugh.
And just when I think I’ve broken through, when I’m sure we’re in the middle of a normal conversation, Ty pulls back. His walls go up and he snaps, “We’re running out of time. If you want to get this done, grab those highlighters and let’s get started.”
One step forward and two steps back. That seems to be a theme with college and with Ty.
***
Ty
