Page 6 of Hesi-Dating
"Perhaps you're right." She moistened her lips.
I wanted the kiss, but I also wanted her to make the first move. This moment was her decision.
She rested a finger on my lower lip and ducked her head. "I won't be able to resist pushing you for everything if we start this. If I kiss you…" Her eyes met mine. "I won't stop. I don’t want to be your regret when you realize you jumped into something too soon. Usually, I wouldn't care. I'd grab this kind of thing, soak it up for a day or two, and walk away." She took one of my hands between both of hers. "I don't think you can handle something with this much chemistry that might turn insignificant fast. I'd hurt you, and you've already been hurt enough."
I stepped away when she let go of my hand, feeling like I'd lost a hell of a lot more than a kiss. "I’m real sorry I wasn't the greatest date tonight."
She gave me her cute, small smile again. "Me saying no right now has nothing to do with that." She opened her car door but turned my way before getting in. After a quick once-over she released a rough exhale. "This decision might turn out to be my biggest regret."
ChapterTwo
JOLEY
Two weeks later…
"Joley, you're on the cusp of a second academic probation."
I couldn't meet the disapproving stare of the dean of the dental hygienist program at Central College.
I fiddled with my watch band while shifting in the stiff chair in front of Marnie Parker's desk. "The practical stuff comes easy to me, but book things like pharmacology…"
I shrugged. I'd always sucked as a student. Other kids called me stupid until I got boobs in seventh grade. Then the guys didn't want to make fun of me anymore. Girls were jealous but also befriended me to benefit from the boy attention. A school counselor in fifth grade thought I had a form of dyslexia based off the fact I had a terrible time distinguishing left and right—still did—but I never had a guardian who gave enough shits to help me figure it out. I barely passed grade school. Reading still took me a long time. I had trouble figuring out the words and understanding how they fit together.
If I used an app to read the book to me, I understood. However, I panicked on tests, especially if they were multiple choice—like every flipping test in hygienist school. Each question required so much reading.
"We have a three-strikes rule here. Your instructor let me know it's unlikely even if you get an A on the final that you'll pass pharmacology. This is your second attempt at the class. I can let you retake it next fall when it's offered. Remember, the class is a pre-req for Hygiene III. So, you'll be adding an extra two semesters to your degree. If you fail it again, you'll need to exit the program." She returned a pen to its holder on her desk, a mug which displayed an assortment of little kid pictures. "I thought you decided to take advantage of the tutoring program this semester." Mrs. Parker looked at me over the top of her reading glasses.
"The tutor you suggested could only meet on Tuesdays or Fridays after lunch. I work on weekdays."
The dean tented her hands on her desk. "I want you to finish. It's a lot of money and time to invest and not have anything at the end."
"I'm trying. I swear."
"Have you considered this might not be the right career path for you? Maybe there's something else better suited to your interests?"
In other words, I wasn't smart enough for the program.
It should upset me to have my dean trying to push me to quit, but it didn't. I hated everything about this potential career. I despised school even more. I'd enrolled to make my sister happy. Amber had been thrilled at the idea of me with a solid career plan, one with a guaranteed job at the end. I didn't want to let her down. She had dragged me out of near homelessness during her first year of veterinary school. For five years she'd paid for my housing and food and so much else to support me and my two foster brothers. She always claimed she was trying to "get us on our feet," but we were losers compared to her. Amber had always been a self-motivated smarty pants. I respected and loved her for it, but school wasn't for me.
"I'll take it again next fall." The words tumbled out of my mouth even though deep in the pit of my stomach I didn't believe I could do better in the class a third time.
* * *
A text dinged on my phone as I sat at the front desk at Stein Corp. Every day after 1 p.m. came the quiet hour. Few came in. Few left.
UNKNOWN
WTF never calling me back.
And…blocked him. The problem was me, not him.
Nothing new. I was a tornado that left people broken in my path.
I dated a lot. I'd go out with a guy, sleep with him once, and end it. This scenario seemed to be on rapid repeat for me over the past few years. My siblings ribbed me about my bad choices. They were concerned I'd get hurt or in trouble worse than the few times I already landed in hot water.
I didn't have the funds or insurance coverage to spend money on a therapist to talk the shit out of my childhood in order to "fix" my date-’em, fuck-’em, and dump-’em habit. I had a problem. Yet, I hated hurting people like the guy who just texted. If I tried to apologize, it would make things worse. An open channel of communication would make him think I wanted to see him again, which I didn't. Then he'd start texting me all the time. Then he'd show up at work or my house.
I popped a cheese puff into my mouth. The icky orange fingers were a nightmare at work on keyboards, but the puffs tasted so good. I needed the pick-me-up after almost getting kicked out of school.
