Page 9 of One Day

The repeated buzzing of my phone pulls me out of my slumber with a loud groan. Burying my face in my pillow, I hug it a little tighter to my chest and wish the noise away in the hopes it will give me just a few more minutes in bed.

When it doesn’t stop, I reach over and grab it off the nightstand before fumbling with the cord to unplug it. I expect to find my alarm set for this morning displayed on the screen, but instead, I find my name staring back at me.

Brows pulling together, I answer and bring it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Sunny!” I hear Dylan’s frantic voice on the other side. “Fuck, I’m sorry. There was a mix-up with our schedules, and I was supposed to be at the rink instead of dryland practice this morning. In my scramble to leave, I pocketed your phone instead of mine. I didn’t realize till I got off the ice and saw all the missed alarms on your phone.”

Missed?

It’s an instant shock to my system when I realize what he’s saying and pull his phone back to see it’s already 8:22 a.m. My class starts in eight minutes. One second, I’m half asleep, begging for more time, and the next, I’m up and stumbling out of bed, unbelievably late. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I swear, falling over my own two legs and onto the floor, trying to untangle myself from the comforter.

“Sunny? You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry! Just late. I have to go,” I say, pulling his phone away from my ear just as he calls out an apology, and I end the call. I toss it onto the unmade bed and kick at the comforter that’s still holding my legs hostage.

Finally freeing them, I stumble over to my closet and grab a pair of my best worn jeans, swapping the oversized Mustangs shirt I slept in with them and a navy blue sweater. I settle for clipping my hair up, not having time to tame it before heading for the bathroom.

“Bekah? Reid?” I call out when I step into the hall, the early morning sun bleeding across the floor and lighting the dust particles dancing in the air. “Either of you still home?”

Between the lack of an answer and the way both their doors hang slightly open, I already know my answer. My frustration in not having my own car grows by the second when I realize how royally screwed I am. Growing up in Ryley, Michigan with Reid, not having a car had never been an issue because we were glued at the hip. I went where he went, and vice versa.

It wasn’t an issue until this very moment. Last year, I lived on campus and could slip out of bed ten minutes before class with no problem, and until today, I was always up with enough time to catch a ride with one of my roommates. For a split second, I think about calling Walker but knowing him, he’s already on campus. I can’t bring myself to disrupt him because I know he’d drop everything to help me. Even if it was at the cost of making himself late.

I brush my teeth quickly before grabbing Dylan’s phone and my backpack from my room, sprinting for the stairs. I’m halfway down when I see Everett in the kitchen, his buzzed head lifting when he hears me.

“Everett!” I hop off the last step, relief flooding my chest. “You’re here.”

“I kind of live here, Sunny. Why is this shocking?”

“That’s…it’s not important. How much do you love me?” I ask, deciding to ignore the sarcasm laced in his voice.

Instead, I focus on the frown already pressing into his lips. Everett is a known grump, and I’m not sure I know how to deal with him any other way. Scowls and grunts are his favorite form of communication, so I’m not surprised when his face hardens.

“What do you want?” he asks, pulling at the small gold hoop hanging from his ear. It almost comes out in a growl, and if I didn’t know Everett, I might be intimidated by how he’s staring me down, but I just grin. The question is basically a guaranteed yes.

“Dylan took my phone this morning by mistake, so I missed my alarm, and I’m late for class. Can you please drive me to campus?” I ask, clutching my hands together under my chin. “I am not above begging.”

“As much as I’d love to see that, it’s not necessary. I was just about to leave.”

A squeal falls from my lips as I rush around the counter toward him, throwing my arms around his waist. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Okay, get off me before I change my mind,” he says, patting my forearm once before stepping away from me. “I need to grab my portfolio, but I’ll meet you at the car.”

“I love you,” I say, heading for the front door as he heads for the stairs to the basement where his room is. A floor between him and everyone else exactly how he wants it.

All I get in response is a grunt, but I can see the corner of his lip twitching and that’s enough for me to head for the front door.

Class has already started when I stumble into the back, gritting my teeth when a few heads turn my way. I mouth a silent apology and sink into the first empty seat I find, trying my best to quietly pull everything out of my bag. Thankfully, my professor doesn’t call me out for being late, but I know it’s only a matter of time.

I was thrilled when I found out that Reneé Andrews, a trailblazer in the tech industry, was joining the computer science department last year. She has inspired me in the way she stands—steady and firm—in an industry designed to hold women back. It’s a man’s game, and we’re expected to take it, but not Professor Andrews. She made a voice for herself, refused to sit back and let misogyny win out, and in doing so, encouraged so many other women to do the same.

After her guest seminar last year, I knew I needed to do whatever I could to get into this class. Showing up late is not exactly putting my best foot forward, but as I sit in complete awe of her as she goes over expectations for the semester, I make a promise to myself to make a statement. To be bold and prove I’m not this person. I want to succeed here and everywhere else. I am so much more than a wallflower in this industry. I want to shine.

“Before I let you go for the day, I want to give you a quick rundown of your project this semester,” she says at the end of class, grabbing a stack of papers from the desk at the front of the lecture hall and handing it off to the last person in the front row. “Take one and pass it along.”

I shuffle in my seat, sitting up a little straighter as the worksheets get passed along one by one. “As I am sure you know, Millboro University is very proud of its athletics department. There have been discussions about building an app that allows students, alumni, and fans to keep track of the team’s progress throughout the season, including players and their stats. This will be your semester project,” she shares, and the room instantly fills with murmurs of excitement. That’s not just a project. It’s an opportunity.

“The sheet being passed around will go into greater detail about expectations, as well as the timeline and your checkpoints throughout the semester. A few other classes will focus on different features, but this class will focus on player profiles. The head hockey coach, Martin Shay, has graciously offered his team up for us to work with.” If I weren’t already buzzing with excitement, the mention of the hockey team would tip me over the edge. “Each of you will be assigned two players, who you will interview to create the player profiles for your prototype. At the end of the semester, you will present to me, a few other department members, and Coach Shay. We will then select the winning design to move forward with.”

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