Bearly Passing: Saylor and Ryan by Roxxy Muldoon Page A

locate some of the constellations we talked about, draw their positioning, and take a photograph."
    The class groaned, Saylor included. She didn't have time to go out tonight. Her junior year of university was winding down, there was so much that still needed to be done.
    "Don't give me that," said the professor, "I remember what it was like in undergrad. You have all the time in the world to go out with your friends but you don't think you can stay out doing homework for a few extra hours. No complaining or I'll give you field assignments all next week."
    The class gave a collective sigh and a chuckle. Professor Paulson was new, just out of grad school. Saylor knew he couldn't be older than thirty-one or thirty-two, and he was notoriously an easy grader. That's why she was in this class in the first place, science credits needed for an English Lit major. Threats of extra homework worked, but everyone knew he was kidding around. Mostly.
    "All right," the professor waved at the class, "get out of here. Go out, learn, and come back with something to discuss tomorrow. Have a good night!"
    As Saylor filed out, she snuck one more glance at her favorite professor. He stood bent over his desk, scribbling something down in his notes. His shirt was untucked at the side, riding up. Did she detect some muscle tone?
    He looked up, catching her eye, and gave her a dazzling smile. Saylor smiled back, then hurried out the door. Yeah, she was hopeless.

Chapter Two
    " Jasmine," Saylor called as she swung the door of their apartment closed, "I'm home!"
    "I'm in my room," Jasmine said through the door.
    Saylor dropped her books on the kitchen table and slipped into Jasmine's room. Her roommate lay sprawled on the floor, books in a circle around her head. Her cotton shorts rode up on her ample butt and Saylor felt a familiar pang of jealousy.
    They were both bigger girls, clothing sizes firmly in the teens – the upper teens, but Saylor felt that Jasmine wore it better. Where Saylor felt frumpy, Jasmine was curvy. Where Saylor felt paunchy, Jasmine was voluptuous. With long dark hair always tied back into a shiny ponytail, a love of all things sports, and an intoxicating laugh, it was no wonder Saylor felt lost in the crowd when she was with Jasmine. But they were best friends and roommates. Jasmine was one of the kindest people Saylor had ever known.
    "Guess what?" Jasmine said, pushing herself up so she was sitting.
    Saylor plopped down next to her, moving some textbooks aside.
    "You know Theo from my history class? The obnoxious jackass who thinks he's funny?" said Jasmine.
    "Of course," said Saylor, trying to find a comfortable position on the scraggly beige carpet, "you never shut up about him."
    "Good," Jasmine continued, "because this is going to blow your mind. Theo... is a werebear!"
    Saylor's eyes widened. Weres, or shifters as they were sometimes called, were not wholly accepted by the student body of Northern Michigan University. It wasn't that they weren't allowed to be here, anti-were laws had been overturned in 2009. It was just that, well, some people thought they were dangerous. To have a prominent student, and TA no less, come out as were was a big deal.
    "Shut up," said Saylor, brushing some of her light brown hair out of her eyes. "How did you find out?"
    "He emailed the class!" Jasmine said, grinning widely with excitement. "He said that even though he is a senior this year he is sick of hiding who he really is, blah blah blah. And how he wants to use this opportunity to remind us that the dehumanization of shifters is un-American blah blah blah."
    "He didn't say 'un-American,'" said Saylor.
    Jasmine waved her off. "Okay, not that exactly. But basically that's the gist. It was crazy!"
    "What happened?"
    Jasmine shrugged, finally putting aside her laptop and the premise of study. "My professor made a snide comment this morning about misuse of the class email list and some of the people in my class were sort of uncomfortable,