Whit: Since I do time travel back to the Decade of Excess on the regular, and I travel by airplane while I’m there, I’m just the guy to answer this question. Yes. Yes, you do.
Whit: And it’s a good look.
She gave a little heart emoji to both of my responses, but I haven’t heard anything since. I’m not gonna sit here like a fool hoping she’ll text. Well, I am, actually, but I’m also going to message her.
Whit: Hope it’s a good day. :) I’ve got Modern Comm and Video Production later, but I’ll be around tonight if you want to chat. Or if you need me to serenade you.
There’s no immediate answer, and I’m guessing if the foundation makes her wear pantyhose because bare legs are a temptation from the devil, they probably have a pretty strict cell phone policy, too.
I wave to the hockey crew as Booker packs his stuff up. “I’m off to class in the Dixon building. Where are you headed?”
Booker frowns and hands me his schedule. Scanning the printed page, I laugh. “Psychology of Human Sexuality?” I ask.
Booker blushes at the mere mention of the course. “That’s what I get for letting the Athletic Academic Adviser make my schedule.All the athletes take it, apparently.”
“Wait, I know this class. It’s hella hard to get into, probably because the jocks are hogging all the seats. Hold up,” I glance at the print-out again. “Is Ian your TA?”
“That’s what it says,” Booker shrugs. “Dr. Bergman’s the professor, though, so I might not even see Ian much.”
He leaves Drip and starts walking up the hill, while my class takes me in the opposite direction.I sit in the back of the lecture hall, having had this professor before and knowing I’ll likely nod off a few times this semester.
Lucy would be proud, though, because I grab a notebook and pen from my bag, fully intent on taking notes. I don’t, though. My hand is busy scrawling on the page, but I’m not writing down any facts or important due dates. Nope. There on the page I’ve mocked up a menu. It’s just a series of doodles, really, and I’m no artist. But there’s a list of appetizers and entrees and desserts and even a wine list. I’ve always shrugged off the idea of starting my own restaurant for about a million reasons, not the least of which is that most restaurants fold within the first three years. There’s also the fact that I’m not in culinary school. And then there’s the little detail that cooking is something I do for the people I love. It’s how I show affection. And I don’t consider the general population of the Eastern Shore to be my family.
But ever since Lucy made that crack about my lack of focus, I’ve been sort of envisioning what a restaurant might look like. I’ll never do it, of course. It’s too lofty and requires more commitment than I have, but it’s fun to daydream.
Chapter 19
Lucy
Today was a really good day,and I can’t wait to tell Caleb about it. That should be a giant, flaming red flag that I am, in fact, crushing hard on my stepbrother, but I’m choosing to ignore it. We’re friends. Good friends. With a past. So, it’s only natural that when things go well, he’s the person I want to share the good news with. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.
We’ve been texting back and forth daily for the past two weeks. And we video chat. And he sings to me.
It’s fine. Friends do that kind of thing.
I’m finished up for the night, so I slip on Caleb’s Henley and crawl into bed before pulling up his number and pressing the button for a video chat. He answers right away, and I can tell from the faint glow of the overhead lights and the walnut headboard that he’s in bed too.
“Hey, Lucy, did you have a good one?”
“No,” I smile. “I had a great one.”
“No shit? What’s got you in such a good mood? Are they letting you wear pants next week?”
“Let’s not be ridiculous, Caleb. And it’s even better than pants.”
“Is it the press conference you lead today? Cause I saw that video, and you killed it.”
“How did you—?”
“When you got the internship, I started following LifeReach. I gotta say, Lucy Magnolia, they are not my people. And now I get a shocking number of ads asking me to donate to their cause. Yeah…no. But you were awesome today.”
“It was amazing. I was the lead intern. Derek was stuck crunching numbers with the accounting team while I was schmoozing and shaking hands and everything.”
“Way to go, tiger,” he praises, and his words mean more than any other compliment I could hear.“That’s awesome, Lucy. I’m so damn proud of you. I have some good news, too, but it's also pretty spectacular, and I’d hate to steal your thunder.”
“Did you also kick corporate ass today? Or wait, did you find a new stencil for your Cricut?”
“Don’t test me, woman,” he growls, and I love the deep sound of his voice. “I got a new roommate.”
