Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
J
ake Cho showed up to the CS class the next day with a cat.
Or it could have been a raccoon. It was hard to see from my seat. It was in a pet carrier, and a little black-masked face with stark blue eyes pressed against the metal grate while Jake pulled the professor aside and explained rather loudly that he had an emergency and couldn’t stay. He would be available for office hours later that afternoon after he got back from the vet.
I’d had my doubts before, but this confirmed everything I knew about Jake. Of
course
he would be a dog person
and
a cat person. Most people fall neatly into feline or canine or possibly neither. I’d actually pegged him as neither, being so noncommittal.
Jake was not like most people. Back in college, he was sometimes like an alien to me: the kind of person who preferred non-edge pieces of brownies. Someone who not only loved, but
preferred
, black jelly beans. And the type of traveler who ran to the departure gate at the airport just as the
plane doors were closing, cutting it so close that passengers groaned when he boarded.
Were we incompatible or complementary? After all these years, I still didn’t know.
Although he had left the classroom, I couldn’t help but think about what he was like at home with his two pets. Did he talk to them in goofy voices? Did he give
them
goofy voices? Was his floor covered with squeaky toys?
Someone said my name.
“—Lee, Grace Pak, and Ethan Chang. This group is the only one who followed all the instructions. Class, this is your only warning: starting this week you’ll get points docked from your group project grades if you don’t follow directions. It’s a reflection of your work, and no one wants sloppy, incomplete deliverables. Especially not for this class.”
While I didn’t always love this type of “showing praise to demonstrate a lesson” approach to teaching, any sort of positive affirmation these days was a win. Ethan sat to my right, and he mouthed, “We got an A plus! Yesssss!” while grinning at me.
Honestly, if I was twenty-two-year-old Lily right now, I would be so into him. His playful dark eyes, purposefully unruly hair, and barely there dimples were to die for . . . damn. The only other guy I’d seen with a face like his was on one of my favorite K-dramas, and he was thousands of miles away living on a different continent. Ethan could seriously be that actor’s body double.
“Can you believe the professor knows who we are now?” Ethan whispered.
My lips curved into a wide smile. “Yes, he does!” Even better, we earned this praise without any special help from a certain TA.
When the class ended, Ethan asked, “What are you doing tonight?”
Before I could panic about what exactly he was fishing for, he quickly added, “Because a bunch of us are going to PJ’s frat party tonight.”
“PJ’s in a fraternity?” He was a skateboarding, man-bun-wearing, baggy-clothed guy. Ethan looked more fratty than PJ. Hell, even
I
looked more fratty than PJ.
Ethan grinned. “I know—his brother was the Sigma Mu president a few years ago and PJ kind of had to join. Believe it or not, he fits in well there when he’s in his element.”
“And what is his element?”
“Drunk.” Ethan’s eyes glinted with amusement.
I rarely went to Greek parties in college the first time around. The very thought of going ten years later was too Will Ferrell in the movie
Old School
for me.
Nope. Not gonna happen. “I’ll pass. But thank you for the offer.”
“Well, if you change your mind, it starts tonight at eight. It’s the house with blue windows and doors on Brighton Alley. And you can’t miss the Sigma Mu letters, they light up like a motel vacancy sign. Gives off bug zapper vibes.”
I smiled to myself as we parted ways. Ducking into the Commons to grab a coffee, I texted Jake while waiting in line to pay. After typing, editing, and deleting my message over and over again, I ended up with three brilliant words:
How’s the cat?
He wrote back quickly.
Bandit had an abscessed molar and they removed it. God, so expensive
He added:
There’s nothing worse than grading homework with a cat wailing by your feet all night. At least it was a legit reason and not her just wanting attention or treats. She’s staying the night for observation for infection. Thx for asking ☺
I swiped my ID at the register and my new photo appeared on-screen. Seeing an unfiltered, unedited image of my face on a very high-res monitor was not something I would ever get used to, even if I bought food and drinks on campus multiple times a day and was forced to see myself with every snack and caffeine purchase. I still couldn’t get over how this photograph was possibly worse than any high school yearbook image, corporate security badge picture, or double-chin-angled selfie taken by someone with short arms. Definitely worse than my previous student ID photo. My unsmiling passport mugshot looked better than this, and that was saying something.
First, there was the ghastly lighting. Fluorescent of course, with the illumination of maybe one hundred ring lights.
Second, the angle. The camera was positioned so it was directly in front, but it was also slightly lower than my head, and as anyone with a nonexistent jawline could tell you, this is not a universally loved camera position.
And last, my skin. What was going on with my breakouts? My nights toiling over required reading, homework sets, and career research during my study breaks had taken a toll on me. I was probably the only undergrad student here with both wrinkles
and
pimples.
The cashier glanced at the screen and said, “You may need to replenish your dining funds. You’re down to one hundred dollars and you’re in here a lot.”
Already? I hadn’t thought about the impact of my daily caffeine habit in New York, but now that I had a fixed budget, with most of my savings funneling toward tuition and housing, I needed to be more careful.
A heartfelt smile spread across her face. “But I do love seeing you. Take care, hon.”
I took my iced coffee to a window seat facing the CS building and texted Mia.
I got invited to a frat party LOL
YOU HAVE TO GO! What’s the theme?
Theme? Binge drinking. Hangovers. Possibly regrettable sex?
Noooo like Shots and Thots, Bros and Hos, the Great Fratsby
What are you even talking about? And how do you know so much about Greek party life? Didn’t we hang out in college all the time? Were you sneaking out to parties when I went to sleep???
No comment. But figure out the theme and dress to the nines if you go. Otherwise you look like an asshole
If I GO I’ll look like an asshole. WHO BROUGHT THEIR MOM? —everyone
Okay MILF-types at a frat party are a plus, not a minus. You are looking at this all wrong
This conversation had taken a sharp turn, and in fact was barreling down an icy road with shitty brakes. I thought for sure Mia would laugh her ass off knowing that my evening could include kegs of Natty Light. But now I was curious: Was there really a party theme?
I messaged Ethan.
What’s the theme for the party? I’m curious (but not going)
It’s color themed, maybe black and white? What can I do or say to convince you to go ;-)
I was well out of practice on college-aged texting but . . . was that a flirty winking face? Or a “har har wink wink we both know you’re not really coming soooooo” face?
Like my conversation with Mia, this had potential to derail
quickly. I didn’t respond, and placed the phone on the counter while I drank my coffee and stared out the window. A red-baseball-cap-wearing Jake headed into the CS building, returning for office hours. He was cat-less, and five minutes early.
I sipped and observed. Steady streams of students walked out of the science and engineering buildings. It was lunchtime and hordes of undergrads headed toward the two main dining establishments on campus. I didn’t want to be that old person who went on “back in my day” tirades, but back in my day, kids looked and behaved differently. We didn’t carry gigantic water flasks, parading them around like campus status symbols. Nor did we have an extreme dichotomy between students wearing pajamas with knock-off UGGs to class and the fancier ones who wore Moncler beanies, Canada Goose parkas, and Prada boots when the weather dropped below fifty degrees some mornings. And to continue with my clothing complaints, since when did the larger-size ladies’ shirts in the Student Union barely fit over my boobs? I bought an XL Carlthorpe logo shirt and it barely fit. When did the XLs get so small?
I caught a glimpse of a trio of gorgeous girls walking into the CS building, all carrying Chihuahua-size, pastel reusable bottles and they were most definitely not wearing XL anything. These waify college girls looked nothing like my peers from a decade ago. Style and fashion had obviously changed over the years, but these young women glowed. They were plucked and highlighted and microbladed, things I hadn’t even known about until I was thirty. In my old, oversize
black-and-white-striped Madewell boyfriend shirt and high-waisted dark denim jeans with no belt, I felt dumpy, like a freshly washed used car driving behind a garbage truck on the freeway, getting pelted by bits of trash skimming off the top.
I wasn’t the only one who noticed the three of them: they caught the eyes of many science and engineering majors, their jaws hanging while they gawked in the most unsubtle of ways.
My stomach churned when I realized why the girls looked so familiar. They were the ones sitting in front of me on the first day of CS class. The students who were collectively hot for Jacob the TA. The ones who were now visiting said TA for office hours.
Maybe these three undergrads were seeking some guidance or academic assistance from Jake, and it was as simple as that. So what if all three of them had commented about his physical appearance . . . and didn’t appreciate his desert-dry humor and his acts of kindness . . . and only saw a handsome face, powerful chest, muscular arms, and perfectly fitting tees. Who cared if these students weren’t interested in the well-being of his cat?
Apparently, I did.
A sense of urgency jolted me into action. I threw away my trash and walked to the CS building. Pushing the elevator button, then rising slowly to the fourth floor, it occurred to me that I had no game plan. I’d already finished the week’s lesson. And the following week’s one as well. I had no questions about the assignments or grading. Was it even wise to be in Jake’s office alone with him, given our history?
DING!
The doors opened and I stepped out into the grad student office wing. Even though the building was fairly new, the halls had an old-school smell to them, like polished wooden floors and the faint aroma of drip coffee wafting down the corridor. Cream-colored walls were lined with corkboards promoting events, seminars, and job opportunities for students with CS degrees. A few yards down, a long wooden bench in front of the grad students’ and professors’ offices was occupied by two female students I’d seen earlier.
They both startled at my presence when I approached.
One girl elbowed the other. “No one uses office hours but us. Weird to see someone else here.”
I plunked down on the empty side of the bench and acknowledged the comment. “I have a few clarifying questions about the last lecture and it’s probably easiest to just ask in person instead of email.” I don’t know why I bothered to say anything, even though what I said was true. It’s not like they were the office hours gatekeepers.
The taller of the two commented, “We’re usually here to get a better understanding of what was covered in class. A lot goes over my head and we need some individualized attention.”
The other one snorted. “Yeah right, you’re totally here for the sake of
learning
.”
“Hey.” Taller girl shot her a look. “There’s no crime in bettering our education while at the same time admiring our TA eye candy. Maybe we should come to office hours twice a week instead, so we can ask even
more
clarifying questions.”
Shorter one nodded. “Sounds good.” She looked at me. “Thanks for that idea.”
Yes, Lily, thanks for giving them that idea.
The door creaked open and the third student came out, winking unsubtly at her friends. “Who’s next?” she asked.
The pair on the bench stood at the same time and the taller one said to me, “We’ll be quick. We both have to be somewhere soon and have the same questions and, um, mutual interests.”
They walked into the office and the other member of their trio took a seat next to me. She pulled out her makeup bag from her purse and examined herself in her compact mirror. “Oh great, my mascara’s smudged. I hope he didn’t notice.”
He, meaning Jake? The twinge in my stomach returned.
After a couple of minutes, I heard laughter erupt from the room. What was I even doing here? Jake needed to do his own thing, and I needed to do mine. We were playing nice now and there was no reason to complicate or confuse things.
I didn’t need to be here. It was stupid of me to show up.
Stumbling to my feet, I unzipped my coat to provide relief to my rising body temperature and quickening heartbeat. Slowly breathing in and out, trying to maximize lung capacity, I gathered my belongings.
The office door creaked open and laughter rang down the hallway. Rather than stay, I marched to the elevator and hit the down button several times.
Hurry up, hurry up!
The elevator grumbled as it rose a few floors, but then it stopped on a lower level.
“See you next week, Jacob. Huh, there was someone sitting here but she’s gone now.”
I couldn’t wait any longer. Running down four flights of stairs, I burst through the main entrance double doors with a hard push and nearly tripped over my own feet as I followed the flow of students exiting the building. Breathing hard from the burst of cardio, I veered left to head back to my apartment to study. Once I got home and reread my notes, I’d email Jake any questions. A far better use of my time and energy.
* * *
I
DROPPED MY
backpack in the hallway and took off my running shoes, hardly noticing a pair of shiny silver pointy-toe flats that didn’t belong to me or to Beth.
Mia popped her head out of my bedroom doorway. “Surprise! Did you see my fancy new footwear? I treated myself to new shoes because your girl just landed a new start-up client!”
“Congratulations!” I hugged her. “But why are you here and not celebrating?”
She laughed. “Are you kidding me? How could I not celebrate with my best friend? And you’re going out with me tonight. Promise?”
“Of course! I’ll put my studying aside for one night for you. Where are we going? Are you buying?”
A wicked grin and a glint in her eye . . . oh no, she was up to something.
“Where we’re going, the drinks are free. The frat party!”
“What? No way. No!”
She pleaded with puppy-dog eyes. “C’mon. Think about it, you and me scoping out what Greek life is like now from a single woman in her thirties’ perspective? I can sell this shit to Hollywood one day! Pleeeeease?”
I squinted my eyes at her. “You’re telling me you want to celebrate landing a new publicity client by going to a Sigma Mu party tonight?”
I expected some level of hesitation but there was none. “Yes! Absolutely. It will be the story we tell our grandkids. Anyway, trust me, as a PR and publicity expert, I’m telling you this is worth doing because you’ll never get this chance again.”
Her confidence and enthusiasm were usually infectious, but no, this wasn’t happening. While the words leaving her mouth were all true and it really would make a hilarious story one day, I wanted no part of any of this.
“I wasn’t big on stranger-danger parties back then, so why would now be any different? Plus, we’re in our thirties! Cougar much?”
I pursed my lips tight. Why was she pushing so hard for this?
She held up her index finger. “Hold on.” Then Mia left my room and came back with my roommate.
“Even Beth here is coming with us to the party.”
My roomie’s eyebrows pulled into a deep V. “What? I was planning to bake a cobbler and watch
Hocus Pocus
. You said if I came in here, you’d help me bake.”
“And I will, after we get back. The point is, Lily, that even your happy-go-lucky Mary Poppins roommate is going now.”
“I am? And you think I’m like Mary Poppins? I love that movie! Julie Andrews is my idol!”
“Yeah, I figured.” Mia looked straight into my eyes. “I’m not letting you become a solitudinarian. We didn’t do anything fun back in undergrad because we were too busy studying and, I’ll go ahead and say it, we were poor. Poor by Carlthorpe standards.” She turned to Beth. “Our classmates back then weren’t just Wall Street Manhattan wealthy, some of those kids got both sailboats and cars for their eighteenth birthdays.”
Mia looked back at me and pleaded, “Now you’re finally in a position where you have the means and you’re not going to fail out of school this time or anything. No offense. So, let’s have some fun. Let loose a little.”
Admittedly, my time in college was not what I would call my “glory years.” There was barely time for partying. But you know, I never reflected on that time in my life and thought,
My one deep regret in life is never doing keg stands and making out with someone in a frat house basement in the same night.
Beth said, “Roomie, you’re frowning. You being all sad right now hurts my soul. It’s like watching Jerry Springer hip-hop dancing on TikTok. I don’t wanna see that. Not ever. No, ma’am.”
What was this, a staged intervention? Did I really need one? Maybe they were right about one thing . . . when I was out of my element, I routinely tried to control what I could
and that usually led to a predictable, straight-and-narrow path. Was that why I’d stayed at my previous company for so long? Maybe it wasn’t inertia. Had it been fear all along? I was never good at changing course or trying new things. Maybe this one time I could briefly steer myself into uncharted waters with this new force of wind in my sail.
“Fine,” I muttered. “Only for a short while. Then we can bake and eat some celebration pie.”
Mia’s gaze flickered between Beth and me. “Yes! Thank you!”
Beth clapped. “I’m excited. All three of us hanging out for a night on the town!”
“One hour, tops,” I said firmly.
Mia hugged me again, and then wrapped her arms around Beth and squeezed. “Thanks for helping me out. I owe you one. I’ll go buy some vodka, it’s on me.”
Beth giggled. “Anytime! Just a quick question though. What party are we going to again?”