I didn’t want to imagine something bad happening to him.
I gripped him harder. He didn’t seem to notice—the bastard was too busy accelerating, splitting a lane between two cars and edging onto the exit ramp. I pinched my eyes shut and clung to him as the bike roared over the road.
He didn’t just get off picking up pretty girls from bars. He was a pure adrenaline junkie. No wonder he wanted in the SEALs. He acted like a total idiot as a civilian.
We cruised to the campus and parked outside the administration offices. I hobbled off and handed him my helmet.
“Want me to come in with you?” He asked.
Escort me through this hostile territory? Not without a polo shirt as camouflage, his gun exchanged for a laptop bag, and his radio swapped for Beats headphones. I shook my head.
“I’ll handle it.”
He didn’t remove the sunglasses. That only attracted glances from passing girls. He grinned as I spied a cluster emerging from the nearby dorms.
“They’re freshman,” I warned. “Look, but don’t touch.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “They don’t got a thing on you, baby.”
Christ, I believed him. Again. That would have to stop.
Or did it?
Ugh. Not what I needed to worry about while facing the crumbling foundation of my future.
I marched into the administrative offices with all the confidence I could fake. The secretary greeted me with oversized glasses and undersized patience. I tried to smile, but I didn’t know what expression said Hi, I’m dropping out of college and disappointing generations of my family. Where do I sign?
I opted for something simpler.
“Hi. I…uh, I was withdrawing from my classes. I have my form…”
“Student ID number.”
I rattled it off. She waved for the papers in my hand—the few letters I gathered from my professors who waived the F in favor of an Incomplete.
“A member of the student relations board will call you once this is processed. Please be aware we cannot grant refunds on this semester’s tuition.”
“Oh, I…I know.”
“Have a nice day.”
That was it? I swallowed. The secretary dismissed me with a slurp of her diet Coke.
Was it really that easy? All of Professor Sweeten’s threats, the humiliation at the academy, the sleepless nights—and all I had to do was hand in a letter?
I could have emailed my failure to the school.
What the hell was I doing standing before a complete stranger pretending not to fall to pieces? These people wouldn’t help. They’d sweep me into the same garbage bin as the other shattered students who fell apart before making it into the real world.
Thank God Momma wasn’t here to see this. Or Dad. He was the one who paid for it.
I returned to Zach. He tossed me the helmet.
“It was quick,” I said.
He shuddered. “Words a guy never wants to hear.”
I forced a smile. “I’m not very hungry.”
“But I know the best burger joint.”
“Zach—”
“Hop on. They make a chocolate milkshake that’s more tempting than you.”
Ice-cream did sound good. For a girl without a future and a severe allergy to cats, about the only thing I could collect in the future would be pints of gourmet ice-creams.
Hell, if I really wanted to become an eccentric hermit, I’d invest in some prime ice-cream makers with all my untouched money…
The idea struck me with the same severity as an ice-cream headache. I hopped on the bike and patted for Zach to ride.
“Damn. Someone likes her desserts. You should have told me. I can do wicked things with whipped cream—”
“Drive, Zach.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
True to his word, Zach delivered us to a gluttonous heart-attack waiting to happen—a Mom and Pop diner with food served in a puddle of grease. The milkshake crowned with a heaping layer of whipped cream bigger than my head. It was a good choice.
I nibbled on my fries, scrunching my nose as Zach dipped his into my chocolate shake. He didn’t let me argue.
“Just try it.”
I rolled my eyes and buried the fry into the mess. Sweet, salty, and perfect.
“You gotta stop fighting me,” Zach winked. “No, you can’t live here. No, I don’t want to talk to you. No, don’t put it in there, that’ll hurt.”
“Very funny.”
“You okay?” He asked.
I shrugged, happy for the milkshake to distract me. “I think so.”
“No shame in ordering a second of those.”
Oddly enough, I didn’t need chocolate to survive this crisis. I teased the cherry through the whipped cream and shrugged.
“What if…” I didn’t know how to phrase it or if it was even a viable idea. “You know how everyone tells me to forget college? That I should just buy my own school and screw those who held me back?”