Page 25 of Bitter Sweet Heart

I debate sending her a reply to tell her I’ve just seen this now, but I’m not sure if that’s going to make the situation worse or better. So I leave it.

* * *

Two nights later,I arrive to class early. Today we’re talking about story structure, which is something I admittedly know very little about. My older brother, Robbie, always had a book in his hand, where I generally had a hockey stick.

At the end of class, I take my time packing up my stuff, and as expected, Sandy-Suzy asks if I’m going to the bar.

When I say no, her right foot rotates back and forth, and she does that ponytail twist thing, exactly like my cousins do. “Maybe you want to get coffee instead?”

The awkwardness of being asked out by one of my peers is magnified by the fact that it’s happening in front of someone I’ve slept with, and made that much worse since she’s my professor—whose good side I’m trying to get back on.

“It’s cool of you to offer, but I’ve got a lot of stuff going on, and I need to keep my focus on school and hockey this year.”

“Right. Yeah. Of course. That makes sense.” Her expression screams dejection, and I hate that I’ve made her feel like that. “I’ll see you next week.” She rushes for the door and ducks out of class.

I shoulder my bag and push out of my chair. Professor Sweet glances around the room, maybe realizing we’re the last two people here.

She crosses her arms. “What exactly were you trying to accomplish at Eddie’s?”

I take a step back. “It was me trying to apologize for my thoughtlessness, but I didn’t see how it could have been taken differently until after I left the restaurant. And I didn’t see the revised grade until I got home, which is when I realized how shady that probably looked to you.”

She stares at me for a few long seconds, saying nothing. Her throat bobs with a swallow, and she tips her chin up, looking down her nose at me. “You’re no longer failing the course, but there’s still one more independent assignment and the exam, so I wouldn’t suggest using your athletics involvement as an excuse to shirk your educational responsibilities again.”

“I won’t.” I tuck a hand in my pocket. “I’m not trying to be a pain in your ass, but, uh . . . Are you planning to report me to anyone else?”

She mutters under her breath before her gaze shifts my way—nottome, exactly, but in my direction. “Can you just be grateful I didn’t name you and leave it alone?”

Well, that answers that question. “I am grateful. I just . . . Thank you.”

She lifts her ancient bag. “Do not make me regret this decision. I didn’t do this because you’re on a sports team, or because of your family or their influence. Or because of what happened before. I did it because I see potential that’s being wasted, and I did not want to be the person to derail your future. I’m hopeful the lesson has been learned and the behavior won’t be repeated. Ever again.”

“It won’t. I swear.”

She nods. “I’ll see you next week.” She turns and stalks out of the classroom.

I should be glad this semester is almost over, but for some reason, the closer I get to the end, the less I want it to get here.

Nine

Turn a Corner

Maverick

When I get home, the living room is empty. I grab a beer and head upstairs, running into my younger brother, River, in the hall. He looks surprised to see me.

“Hey.” His brows pull together in his customary furrow.

“’Sup? You heading out or grabbing something from the kitchen?”

“Uh . . .” His gaze darts around. “Going to a friend’s house.”

River has always been the emo-kid in our family. He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders—wants to fit in, but hates everyone except for Lavender, sometimes me and Robbie, and our parents. Also, he desperately wants our dad’s approval, but chose football over hockey when he hit high school.

I nod once. I know better than to dig with River.

“You by yourself?” He looks over my shoulder, as if he’s expecting someone to magically appear behind me.

“Yeah. I came from my night class. Is Lavender home?”

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