Page 30 of Daddy's Treat

Eat three meals a day. Candy corn isnota food group.

Always answer Kade’s calls and texts.

No studying past nine.

No lies. Ever.

Other than the studying and no longer treating candy corn like a meal, everything else is a breeze. I never skip class, I always answer when Kade calls or texts, and I’m a terrible liar. Beyond awful.

“Let’s get you to class,” Kade says as he grabs my bag from the backseat. We walk hand in hand toward the building my first class is in. Several people give us funny looks, but Kade assured me when I expressed concern about the school’s code of conduct concerning students and faculty that there are no rules against fraternization as long as the student doesn’t get preferential treatment. Since I don’t play football, we are fine.

“Don’t forget, I have a late practice today. I should be done around the same time as your last class.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you at your car.”

“No, you’ll wait in the safety of the building, and I’ll come get you.”

I smile at his overprotectiveness. I could totally get used to this. “Okay, sir.”

Kade pinches my butt cheek through my jeans. “Don’t get cheeky, young lady.”

I give him an innocent look. “Moi? Cheeky? Impossible!”

We are almost ten minutes early for my first class, so Kade decides it’s the perfect time to give me an assignment. Who knew there would be homework in a relationship? He wants me to write down my biggest fantasy and give it to him.

My thoughts instantly go to the moment I came and called Kade ‘daddy.’ He didn’t say anything about it, but I’m sure he heard me. Now he wants me to tell him my biggest fantasy. At least it’s on paper. I sincerely doubt I would be able to actually speak the words. Kade and I share a lingering kiss, then he orders me to get to class.

Once I’m in the building, I turn and see him still watching. I give him a smile and a little wave and then nearly run over Dean Michaels because I’m not paying attention to where I’m going.

“Oh, sorry, Dean Michaels! I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s okay, dear. You were a little distracted.” She flips her black hair over her shoulder, looking at the space Kade just vacated. “But who wouldn’t be considering the distraction.”

I don’t know how to respond to that. Thank goodness Dean Michaels doesn’t seem to notice my awkward silence. The dean visible shakes herself, then turns her gaze to me. “I was actually looking for you, dear.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, there seems to have been a terrible mix-up with next semester’s scheduling, and I’m afraid you won’t be able to take molecular biology with Professor Rochester. The class is simply too full, and you know how Professor Rochester is, she refuses to have more than twenty students in her advanced classes.”

I blink up at her stupidly for a second. “But Dean Michaels, I requested that class with my advisor at the beginning ofthissemester. I’m at the top of the waiting list. Ineedthis class to graduate.”

“Yes, dear, but so do all the other students who registered.”

“There has to be something that can be done. I—I don’t understand. I’ve been in the accelerated program since the beginning. That’s supposed to ensure I get all of my prerequisite classes.”

Dean Michaels loses the ‘I’m sorry’ look, and replaces it with a hard one. “There is simply nothing that can be done, Miss Cooper. I have a meeting I must get to, and you mustn’t be late to Professor Schmidt’s class. He’s getting testy in his old age.”

I walk to class in a haze. My plans for starting medical school next fall are unraveling at the seams. What will I do if I can’t graduate in the spring? I sit through organic chemistry, not hearing a single thing Professor Schmidt says, and for the first time ever, when he calls on me for an answer, I don’t know it.

When class is over, I’m not shocked when Professor Schmidt calls for me to stay. “Miss Cooper, I have to say I’m disappointed with your performance in class this morning.”

I’m not a crier, but hearing one of my professors who has been impressed with my scores and performance tell me he’s disappointed in me hurts. My eyes burn with unshed tears, I’m able to hold them back, but it’s a close thing. “I’m sorry, Professor Schmidt. I guess I’m just having an off day. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t, Miss Cooper. I’d hate to see someone who has such a promising career ahead of her buckle under the pressure.”

“I won’t disappoint you again.” He waves his hand toward the door, dismissing me in his typical no-frills way. People complain about how mean he is, but I’ve always liked him. He’s fair and brilliant. We’ve had a lot of interesting conversations, and usually, I can feel the admiration in our interactions. It doesn’t feel good to be on the other side of admiration. Disappointment is a hard pill to swallow.

I have a two-hour break before my next class, so I head to the library to prepare for my anatomy lab. I don’t want to have a repeat of my morning class. The first thing I do when I get settled at my new favorite spot in the encyclopedia section, I type up an email to my advisor asking for advice on what to do about molecular biology next semester. All I can do now is cross my fingers that there’s been some kind of mistake.

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