Page 24 of DILF

Linc: I didn’t want to text or call while you were driving. Did you make it there okay?

I sigh in relief. He’s worried about me. I need to get used to this different breed of man.

Me: I just got here. Running into class.

Linc: I guess I need to apologize for this morning. I’m sorry for being possessive. It’s the only way I know how to be.

Me: I don’t understand. I thought it was over. I thought it would end when I went back to school. I thought that’s what you wanted.

Linc: Is that what you want?

Now we were at an impasse. If I answer yes, and he doesn’t want a relationship, then I’m back to being childish and clingy. If I say no, I’m destined to be miserable. So, I don’t answer. I know. Immature and stupid, but I don’t have time to break down this conversation further, I’m late for class.

I listen to Professor Gregory talk for an hour until my mind is a jumbled mess of numbers and theories I don’t understand.

A voice sounds to my right. “Hey. Lily, right?” It’s Josh, a senior in the Phi Delta Frat. I’ve seen him around a dozen times. He’s wearing a school baseball team t-shirt and his longish hair falls into his blue eyes. He’s really cute, in that young college guy sorta way. The kind I should be into, given my age demographic.

“Yeah, Lily. It’s Josh, right?”

“Yeah,” he says with a smile. “So did you understand anything?”

I laugh, “No. Not really. Math’s not really my strong suit.”

“Mine either. There’s a tutoring group on Wednesdays on the fifth floor of the library in one of the study rooms.”

“Really?” I’m happy to hear this.

“It’s pretty good, I’ve heard. The TA heads it.”

“Thanks for the heads up, Josh,” I say as I start walking, and he falls in line next to me.

“You going to be at the party on Saturday?”

“Live there. Kinda don’t have a choice.”

“See you there, then? Or on Wednesday at the tutoring session?”

“Yes, to both.” I smile, and he waves goodbye as we part ways. I have two hours between classes and want to get back to my room to unpack and grab something to eat.

As I’m rounding the corner of the hall, I see there’s a delivery guy holding some flowers and knocking on my door.

“This is me,” I tell him, pointing to the door.

“Are you Lilian Baird?”

“Yeah, that’s me. Give me a minute,” I say as I fumble for my keys and unlock the door and set down the box in my hand. Then I turn around, and the delivery man gives me the massive bouquet of red roses, which I set down before signing for them.

I can feel the smile on my face. I’ve never gotten flowers before.

All the card says is: I don’t want it to end.

11

LINC

I sent Lily flowers. Is that still a thing? I have just walked out of the longest and dullest meeting in the history of meetings when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out and see that it’s Lily.

“‘Lo,” I greet.

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