Page 5 of Perfect Storm

Because I’d slept after the alarm, I had to leave without eating first. My stomach is gnawing at me. I’m not exactly svelte but I eat well and exercise. It is the Greek in me. I take after my mama, inheriting her voluptuous figure.

Joe falls into step beside me. My phone buzzes again, but I still ignore it. I let him know I’m headed to the coffee cart.

“I just transferred in this semester,” he says as we get in the line. “Things work a little differently here. I was in community college back home.”

I raise my brows. It isn’t usual to transfer in your Junior year from community college to a bigger university.

“I’m on the swim team. I was doing well, and they scouted me.”

“That’s incredible,” I say. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” his cheeks flush. “I’m just… a little overwhelmed with the workload. I have to keep at least a 3.2 GPA and I’m worried it’s going to drop.”

“It will take some adjusting. Where are you from?”

“Duluth, Minnesota.”

“You’re a long way from home.”

“Yeah.”

This is an amazing opportunity for him. The university may have got him to come out here for their gains, but it is good to see he wants to maintain his studies too. All too often, I see jocks wanting to coast by getting the bare minimum grades, enough to keep them playing.

It isn’t a precedent. There are a lot of athletes here who take their academic career seriously, but now and then, there are some exceptions.

“Have you made many friends?” I ask. If anyone knows what it’s like to be the odd one out, it’s me.

“A few,” he says, shuffling forward as the line moves.

“There are study groups for some of my classes, this one in particular. I can ask my TA to put you in touch with them. That is one way of getting embedded.”

“Really?” his smile is one of relief. “That would be great, thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Drop me an email, I’d like to get you situated. In terms of this grade, it was a well-written paper, there are a few things that were out of context, but the bones of knowledge are there. I’m happy to discuss anything you’re concerned about. Please, go on my calendar on the portal and book yourself a slot.”

“Wow, I mean, thanks,” he blushes again, averting his eyes.

I’ve mastered the art of dealing with teenage hormones. I know how people see me. Usually they think I’m too young to be a professor, a tenured one at that. I dress the part of an academic when I’m in school.

It isn’t easy to hide my figure, or my face, which I’d also inherited from my mother. My green eyes are very distinctive. Those came from my Irish musician father, who my mother spent five days with during her travels, then never saw again.

“Bring your class schedule as well and let me know who your student advisor is. I’m sure between us we can figure out how to get you settled in.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that. Some people I’ve come across here haven’t been this nice.”

“Most people are busy and sometimes forget others struggle too. Don’t take it personally. Not that I’m not busy and irritable at times,” I add with a smile.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” he laughs sheepishly. “I’ll leave you to get your coffee. Thanks again.”

I watch him walk away. I want to help him. I can’t do much with his sporting side, but I can damn well do my best to keep his grade average up. This is an amazing opportunity for him.

After I’ve grabbed my coffee and a Danish, I head back to my small office. I squint and rub my temples, eat and drink, then take out my phone. There are a few texts from Apollo, bemoaning his own hangover.

Baby, he is probably still lying in bed.

Sasha, my other best friend has texted, and there are two missed calls from Nash. I dial him first as I sip more coffee.

“Hey, you out of class?”

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