Page 12 of Forging Legacy

I flush. She notices. “And what was he wearing this time? Maybe those mesh shirts they put on when they break into teams? With nothing underneath?”

“Thora Jansson, stop it right now!” The damage is done, of course. I’m thinking about Wyatt in athletic shorts and a mesh tank top, staring at me like he does in class.

She stands up and gestures for me to follow her. “You’re the one who said you need to figure out how to let loose this semester. You haven’t even gone to a party yet, have you?”

I shake my head, following her out of the cafeteria. “I think I already had my fun. And like I said, this art class is pretty cool.”

“Jesus, Fern. One night of nooky and a class that’s not impossible is not a formula for a fun final semester.”

“Oh, like you’re out there doing keg stands and snorting coke.”

She laughs at me. “Is that how you think of fun? Drugs and being upside down?”

I shrug. “What do I know about relaxing?”

She links her arm with mine. “Come on. I don’t have class ‘til three. Let’s go into the hotel across the street and steal desserts from the conference room.”

I swat at her. “We can’t do that. People paid for those.”

“Yeah, and we’re usually the ones being paid to serve them and clean them up. You know how many are usually leftover.” Thora tugs my hand across Fifth Avenue into the fancy university building where—I don’t even know what sorts of business people gather at these events. She’s right that we’re usually working with the catering staff. Hesitantly, I follow her into one of the ballrooms. She smiles and waves at the men and women in suits, making a beeline for the dessert buffet. Before I can blink, we’re back outside, each holding a tiny plastic cup of mousse with a tiny wooden spoon.

Thora dots chocolate on my nose with her spoon. “See? Wasn’t that fun? And nobody was eating them anyway.”

Eventually, I relax enough to swallow the dessert. We sit side by side on a black metal bench, watching students rush past en route to class, eating decadent sweets. And I really do feel more relaxed.

Thora wanders off for her afternoon class, and I head home, wishing I’d saved some of the mousse to share with my mom. Inspired, I look up a recipe for mousse on my phone and stop at the store to grab the ingredients.

Another movie night with Mom and fancy dessert sounds like just the thing to kick off … well, a weekend full of coursework and not entirely relaxing. I’m fidgety because I’m used to working at the bar, but when I couldn’t take weeknight shifts anymore, they filled my position with another bartender. It’ll be okay. Soon enough.

Chapter11

Wyatt

My cousin Wesuses the term “competency boner” when discussing his girlfriend. Cara is one of the best soccer players in the world, and Wes was a goner for her the second he saw her in action. Well, not only is Fern Montgomery a fantastic bartender … she’s also a really fucking good teacher. Sitting in class listening to her explain how to solve equations like nothing has me more than half-hard.

It’s been at least three weeks, and I try not to make eye contact with her, recite the quadratic equation, and think about my steps for taking penalty kicks, but it’s hopeless. I’m hot for this teacher.

I stare at my lap until she says, “Okay, that’s it for this week. Let me know if you have any questions about the exam.”

Shit. The exam. I’ve been so busy fretting about what damage my father might cause that I’ve really been struggling when it comes to my studies. I’m not a terrible student, but math has never been my best subject. My family is always saying sports use a lot of math skills, and I guess they’re right, but I don’t see how that translates to absolute value or whatever it’s called.

I hustle out of the classroom, wondering what social activity my cousins are going to rope me into this weekend. I’ve been a lot less grumpy about driving their asses to bars since I got the vague hope that Fern might be working as a bartender, but I think she stopped doing that now that she’s got this teaching gig.

I emerge from the elevator to find Odin and Stellan sprawled on the wooden benches in the lobby of the classroom tower. “Wyatt!” Odin looks up from his phone as Stellan yells my name. “We’re doing a Costco run. You’re driving.”

I roll my eyes at them. “Why do I always have to drive? This isn’t even a drinking event.”

Odin shrugs. “Your car has the most cargo space. We need like 35 gallons of cereal, plus toilet paper.”

I sink onto the bench next to him. “We are four guys living in an apartment. How much toilet paper do we possibly need?”

Stellen starts counting on his fingers. “It’s been months since we restocked, man.”

“Yeah, and I’ll be graduating in a few months. The last thing I want to do is pack toilet paper when I go to Mexico.”

Odin shakes his head and stands, offering me a hand to tug me to my feet. “You act like my brothers aren’t lined up to take over the lease when you graduate this spring, dude. There will be Stags in that spot for years.”

I walk beside them in the cold for the few blocks back to our apartment, where we dump our backpacks and fight over who will drive to the store. A series of texts comes through from my mom, asking if I’ll have dinner with her tonight instead of Sunday. I show the phone to my roommates. “I will drive, but only because you fuckers are going to unload on the curb, and I’ll go on from there to hang out with my mom.”

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