Page 29 of Told You So
I can smell her perfume before I hear her footsteps and apologies coming down my row. She slides into the empty seat beside me and pulls out her things.
“Partners?” she whispers. “For what?”
I look at her, already exhausted from this day. “I have no idea.”
Bethany glances at her phone, adjusting it to silent, when I see a text message pop up on her screen. I don’t mean to pry, but I read the message without thought.
Mom:Your father and I have late meetings tonight. I need you to pick up Jesse after class.
Heaving a sigh, she shoves her phone into her purse.
“If you’ve learned anything in this class this past semester,” Professor Murray begins, “it’s that design is mostly about planning. It’s about the bigger picture and, even more than that, it’s about making your client happy. Luckily for you, there is no real client, however, I expect a full mock-up of a room design, as if there were. I want a written proposal, an estimate, and a budget of no less than ten thousand, complete with an image board, list of possible vendors—the whole gamut. I want to know what your project is, what purpose it’s serving, and what it’s going to look like and cost in the end.”
“Professor Murray?” one of the students asks a few seats down.
“Yes, Mr. Mallory?”
“When’s this project due?”
“I want everything on my desk by May first.”
The class groans and his eyes narrow. “I’m happy to move the deadline up a little, if you’d like.”
“No, May first is great,” Chuck says regretfully. “Just checking.”
“Good. Three weeks should be plenty of time for this, especially given you all have partners.” Professor Murray’s eyes land on Bethany and then on me, and I glare back at him. This is an elective for me, and I don’t have the patience for this today.
“This is going to act as one of two final grades for this class,” he continues. “So, prioritize it accordingly. I’m going to give you the rest of class to meet with your partner to outline and plan. If it looks like you aren’t using your time wisely, we’ll dive into the next chapter in your Integrative Theories coursework and focus on historical architecture trends in modern societies.”
Everyone groans.
“Riveting, I know.” His gaze shifts around the room. “Well, then, get to it.”
This isn’t happening.My tolerance has reached its limit this morning after only two hours of sleep, spilled coffee on my jeans, my non-breakfast with my dad, and because of him, being late to class. I don’t have the bandwidth to deal with Bethany right now, too.
She turns to face me fully. “Well,” she says, her voice as prickly as I feel, “this is going to be interesting.”
“Yep.” I lean back in my seat and cross my arms over my chest. Then, we stare at one another. Her eyes are duller than I remember, with dark shadows, like she’s exhausted. “Late night?” I ask, though I’m not sure why I care.
“Something like that,” she says, brushing off my comment. She picks up her pencil, poised for note-taking. “We’re going to need time outside of class to work on this. Maybe we should start by figuring out a meeting schedule.” She pulls her teal-cased phone from her bag and scans her calendar. “Thursdays are out, those are my nights with Jesse. I could do Saturdays, though—mornings are best.”
I nod. “Fine. I’m assuming we should meet at the Falls Library?”
“That works. We should meet this weekend so we can get started, if you’re available. We can divvy up the tasks and just check in through email or texts after that.”
I only half-hear her as I make a note to meet up with her this Saturday, then a text pops up from my dad.
Dad: Crap. I can’t do tonight.
Of course he can’t. I shove my phone into my pocket.
“Study date on. . .Saturday,” Bethany mutters and her fingers flutter over the screen. “I’ll bring the coffee.” She clicks off her phone.
A study date, really? The absurdity of our situation is too much, and I can’t help but laugh, which only makes Bethany’s frown deepen.
“What?” Her eyes turn to slits, and she heaves out a breath. “What’s the problem?”
“This is hilarious. Me and you—partners—planningstudy dates. It just proves my theory.”
