lurks, ready to shadow me.
We duck to leave the tiny little coffee hovel, the sunshine so bright it leaves me feeling cleansed. All the strange ness back there is gone, and Eric’s walking with confidence, smiling at me likehe hadn’t just been terse.
Confusion settles in my bones. I just want to go back at my desk, even if The Claw is there. At least I know where I stand with her. Knowing someone hates you is somehow easier than not knowing what Eric is feeling toward me.
“Just be careful in there,” Eric cautions. A landscaping crew is busy fixing dried-out, brown patches of grass. They carefully cut out the deadspots and drop in a piece of bright green, lush sod. One week until the students move in. They h ave to make the campus look good for the parents. B y mid-September the dead patches will be back. The hundreds of thousands of flowers planted all over campus will be dead.
No one will care about appearances again until Homecoming.
“ In where?” I ask as we reach the Human Resources office. His strideslows and we stand before the glass doors, our reflections clear in the sunlight.
“Dean’s office. You don’t want to be on Claudia’s bad side,” h e explains.
My rippling laughter pours out, loud and pealing like a bell. I can’t help it. Great whoops of giggles continue. It takes me three minutes to calm down. I have to wipe tears from the corners of my eyes. Mascara comes off on my knuckles.
“Claudia’s...bad...side,” I gasp. “Little late for that. She’s hated me since elementary school .”
E ric frowns. “That’s right. I forgot you’re a townie.” He shrugs. “Well, then, you know more about her than me.” That makes him scowl deeper , then squint at me, holding his hand like a military salute. He’s shielding the sun from his eyes.
The look he gives me has new respect in it. I still haveno idea what this guy is thinking or feeling. He is s o different from Mark, who just tells you, upfront. Like it or not.
“I’ll just try to stay away from her claws,” I whisper, leaning toward him.
He startles, then laughs. But it’s a slow, halting chuckle, one that makes my skin crawl.
“Have fun with your HR paperwork,” he says, now very distracted. As he walks away he doesn’t acknowledgemy wave. I don’t know what to think.
But being on Claudia’s bad side? Been there, done that, have the emotional scars to prove it.
My time at HR is brief and fabulous. The benefits specialist, Debbie Hansen, is my new best friend. Yes, I can take classes this semester . I pay a fifty dollar fee per course, so my checkbook comes out and two hundred dollars later, I’m a full time student again,as long as I rush my paper to the Registrar’s office and enroll.
My phone tells me it’s long past time to check in and get the dean his lunch , so I go back to the office, happy again. All I need now is to find four classes that don’t clash with work and that fit into my graduation needs.
S imple. Do-able. Achieveable. Zippidy-do-da. Things are finally going my way.
The weirdness with Ericis washing off, replaced by a flash of Mark’s kisses last night. I am instantly transported back to his hands on my ribcage, the warm scent of cedar and masculinity, how his breath hitched when my own tongue met his tease for tease, search for search.
The heat inside me simmers nice and low, ever present. I imagine my hands in his silky hair. His lips on my earlobe. His promise to come back andtalk.
Talk.
Right.
My step quickens and I practically run up the stairs, bouncing with a happiness even Eric’s moods can’t ruin. The custodians are strip ping the waxed linoleum floors and my normal path is obstructed. That rush to get everything nice and clean for the parents means staff are inconvenienced. I don’t care.
A staircase I wouldn’t normally use is free, so I climb up. It’s anold, pinched little set of rickety stairs, like an afterthought. When I was a student here someone told
We duck to leave the tiny little coffee hovel, the sunshine so bright it leaves me feeling cleansed. All the strange ness back there is gone, and Eric’s walking with confidence, smiling at me likehe hadn’t just been terse.
Confusion settles in my bones. I just want to go back at my desk, even if The Claw is there. At least I know where I stand with her. Knowing someone hates you is somehow easier than not knowing what Eric is feeling toward me.
“Just be careful in there,” Eric cautions. A landscaping crew is busy fixing dried-out, brown patches of grass. They carefully cut out the deadspots and drop in a piece of bright green, lush sod. One week until the students move in. They h ave to make the campus look good for the parents. B y mid-September the dead patches will be back. The hundreds of thousands of flowers planted all over campus will be dead.
No one will care about appearances again until Homecoming.
“ In where?” I ask as we reach the Human Resources office. His strideslows and we stand before the glass doors, our reflections clear in the sunlight.
“Dean’s office. You don’t want to be on Claudia’s bad side,” h e explains.
My rippling laughter pours out, loud and pealing like a bell. I can’t help it. Great whoops of giggles continue. It takes me three minutes to calm down. I have to wipe tears from the corners of my eyes. Mascara comes off on my knuckles.
“Claudia’s...bad...side,” I gasp. “Little late for that. She’s hated me since elementary school .”
E ric frowns. “That’s right. I forgot you’re a townie.” He shrugs. “Well, then, you know more about her than me.” That makes him scowl deeper , then squint at me, holding his hand like a military salute. He’s shielding the sun from his eyes.
The look he gives me has new respect in it. I still haveno idea what this guy is thinking or feeling. He is s o different from Mark, who just tells you, upfront. Like it or not.
“I’ll just try to stay away from her claws,” I whisper, leaning toward him.
He startles, then laughs. But it’s a slow, halting chuckle, one that makes my skin crawl.
“Have fun with your HR paperwork,” he says, now very distracted. As he walks away he doesn’t acknowledgemy wave. I don’t know what to think.
But being on Claudia’s bad side? Been there, done that, have the emotional scars to prove it.
My time at HR is brief and fabulous. The benefits specialist, Debbie Hansen, is my new best friend. Yes, I can take classes this semester . I pay a fifty dollar fee per course, so my checkbook comes out and two hundred dollars later, I’m a full time student again,as long as I rush my paper to the Registrar’s office and enroll.
My phone tells me it’s long past time to check in and get the dean his lunch , so I go back to the office, happy again. All I need now is to find four classes that don’t clash with work and that fit into my graduation needs.
S imple. Do-able. Achieveable. Zippidy-do-da. Things are finally going my way.
The weirdness with Ericis washing off, replaced by a flash of Mark’s kisses last night. I am instantly transported back to his hands on my ribcage, the warm scent of cedar and masculinity, how his breath hitched when my own tongue met his tease for tease, search for search.
The heat inside me simmers nice and low, ever present. I imagine my hands in his silky hair. His lips on my earlobe. His promise to come back andtalk.
Talk.
Right.
My step quickens and I practically run up the stairs, bouncing with a happiness even Eric’s moods can’t ruin. The custodians are strip ping the waxed linoleum floors and my normal path is obstructed. That rush to get everything nice and clean for the parents means staff are inconvenienced. I don’t care.
A staircase I wouldn’t normally use is free, so I climb up. It’s anold, pinched little set of rickety stairs, like an afterthought. When I was a student here someone told
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