“I got the fellowship?” A credit for one course no less?
“Congratulations.” Dr. Barney bears his yellow fangs, and I’m more than glad to see them. “As a part of your doctoral studies, we’d appreciate it if you would continue teaching the class in the fall as well. It will be a pleasure to watch you grow as you, yourself, become an esteemed colleague right here at Garrison.”
“Thank you.” My heart lets off a few irregular beats like it’s misfiring. It all feels surreal. Kenny and now the fellowship? I’ve got a gut feeling someone upstairs is making more than their fair share of errors, but I’ll be the last one to point it out. “It’s an honor to be considered. I accept.”
The three of them stand, and I shake their hands in turn. I pull Professor Bradshaw into a half-hug and accidentally brush up against the bony protrusions of his spine.
“I won’t let you down,” I whisper. “I promise.”
His bushy brows lift, revealing a network of green and blue veins beneath his onion-thin flesh. “You’d better not. There were far more qualified candidates, but I knew you had the fire in your belly. You’ll carry out the program much better than any of those dry wells. Just remember”—he clasps both his hands over mine—“believe what you teach. What was the topic today?”
“Love.”
“Do you believe in it?”
Kenny blinks through my mind.
“More than ever.”
I bolt out of the administration building feeling like I’ve just won the scholastic lottery because, holy fucking shit, I have.
That stupid grin takes over as I head into the stream of bodies rushing to their next classes. The ground is dusted with a layer of snow, and the first thing that comes to mind is Kenny and her serious lack of winter clothes. I’ll take her shopping to celebrate. I’ve got an entire semester’s worth of loans I don’t need to worry about, and even though I’m sitting under a mountain of financial duress, I’ll gladly treat Kenny to something that can keep her pneumonia-free for the next several months. Hell, I might even take her to dinner. Although the fellowship still doesn’t change the fact I’m a little low on spending cash at the moment.
I sweep my eyes over the vicinity, hoping to see her and with my newfound luck, I just might.
I scan every dark-haired girl as far as the eye can see and none of them even come close to the beauty that Kenny holds. Kenny is an exotic flower in a sea of common houseplants.
All last semester, I sat at the University Bar and Grill and listened to Cal rate girls in ratio to how many beers it would take for him to sleep with them. I never once found them exceptional, but that night at Sigma Phi when Kenny walked in, I couldn’t take my eyes off that face—that mind-blowing body, her heart-stopping beauty was alarming in every good way. She openly defied my thesis on the heresy of love at first sight. I knew then I had to have her, if only for a night. A lifetime seemed like an impossibility in the least, and now, it didn’t seem like enough time at all.
I stop just shy of the bookstore and glance at the corkboard filled with requests and opportunities. A bright yellow sign catches my eye.
Need $200? Not shy? We want your body! Contact Professor Webber. Art department.
I tear a fringe off the sheet, with a number on it, and tuck it in my pocket. I think I just found Kenny’s new winter coat and boots.
A familiar head of blond hair catches my attention from inside the bookstore and I peer in to confirm my worst nightmare. Blair. She rocks steady on her heels while browsing the literature section. She peers out from over her book as though she’s been eyeing me all along.
I turn and head in the opposite direction.
Shit.
She can’t be here. She transferred to Dartmouth to follow the idiot whose dick she impaled herself onto before she officially dumped me.
I take a deep breath, giving one final scan of the campus for Kenny before taking off.
Blair can’t be back.
Garrison isn’t big enough.
9
Kendall
Run into Your Arms
The Fine Arts building is situated on the outskirts of campus. Its large circular architecture is reminiscent of an igloo if, in fact, an igloo was designed to stand seven-stories tall.
I stumble into the giant studio in which the “study of the human body” is conducted, and after experiencing countless miniature desks that progressively seemed to get smaller throughout the day, a cavernous open space is a welcome change of pace. Benches are laid out in lieu of a miniaturized workspace with easels situated in front of each one. A charcoal pencil lies at the lip of the unit, along with an eraser that looks as though it’s made from a giant wad of grey gum.