Page 2 of Nothing Like the Movies

I’d completely underestimated the amount of time it took to get from Acosta to Boetler Hall, so my decision to grab a protein smoothie with AJ after lifting had been a total mistake.

But I’d been so stoked after being the top baseball lifter of the day—hell yes—that it’d seemed like a brilliant idea (at the time). Why not hang out for a few extra minutes, doing nothing but reveling in the fact that so far, on Day One, I’d yet to screw up?

I quickly took an empty seat in the front, unzipping my backpack and pulling out a notebook (I wasnota laptop guy when it came to note-taking). It was an intro course, the introductory course for civil and environmental engineering majors, so the last thing I needed was to miss any important information.

“Instead of going over the syllabus with you, such a cliché thing to do on the first day, I’m going to trust that you are capable of reading it. You look like a smart bunch.” Professor Tchodre, a tall man with a serious mustache, stood at the table in the front of the hall and said, “So let’s get started, shall we?”

I pressed on the eraser of my mechanical pencil, opened the notebook, and got ready to take notes.

“In this class, we will be looking at the role of civil engineers in infrastructure development and preservation.”

I started writing as he launched into the material, still blown away by the fact that I was taking an engineering course on the first day of my first quarter. I’d assumed gen eds would fill my freshman year, bogging me down with pointless classes like world music and anthropology, so it felt amazing that I was enrolled in this, as well as chem and calc.

I’dmissedmath and science in the two years I’d been out of school, as crazy as it sounded.

I blamed Mrs. Okun, my tenth-grade physics teacher.

She talked me into attending an engineering camp in Missouri the summer after my sophomore year (during the two weeks between summer and fall ball), and I really hadn’t known what to expect. I’d really only gone because it was a two-week getaway from boring Nebraska, right?

I never would’ve imagined how much I’d love being around other people who liked math and science in the same way that I did. Before camp, I’d been a good student with no clue what I wanted to do with my life, aside from being a major league pitcher, of course.

But the minute I had arrived, it felt like I’d found my spot. I understood the way everything worked in that place, with those people; it all made sense. That camp lit something inside me and made me feel like I was meant to follow the engineering path, even though baseball was my higher priority.

So the fact that I was finally here, in a lecture hall, on my way to making it happen?

It felt huge.

I basically wrote down Tchodre’s every word until class ended, knowing I wouldn’t need the majority of the info but not really caring. I took college for granted the first time, the idea thatof courseI could go if I wanted to, but after seeing those options disappear, I had an entirely different outlook now.

I was cherishing every fucking piece of it.

Bring on the notes, the study sessions, and the term papers—I wanted it all.

After that I went to chem, followed by lunch and a quick nap. Ineeded rest before practice, a little quiet time to get my head right, because as great as it was that I’d killed it at lifting, that didn’t mean dick if I couldn’t throw.

“You sure you don’t wanna hoop?” AJ yelled from the living room as he and some of the guys got ready to go shoot for an hour at the Hitch courts.

I loved pickup games, but I needed to save every bit of my energy for the first practice of my collegiate career.

“Nah, I’m good,” I yelled back, setting a timer on my phone and closing my eyes.

But sleep was elusive.

Because now that I’d made it here and hadofficiallybegun my educational and athletic career at UCLA, the time had finally come.

It was time to get Liz Buxbaum back.

CHAPTER TWO

“Before you came into my life I was capable of making all kinds of decisions. Now I can’t. I’m addicted. I have to know what you think. What do you think?”

—Two Weeks Notice

Liz

Oh my God—is that…?

It was seven o’clock and the sun was barely up, so most of Westwood was still asleep.

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