there’s three of them — they’ve seen her in the bathroom too many times not to notice. I tell them ‘she’s visiting,’ but they’re probably not stupid. Luckily, nobody seems to care.”
“It’s not like she’s throwing loud parties.”
His smile was rueful. “I actually make her be quiet. Even if she’s singing some happy little third grade tune, I tell her to keep it down. It’s like she’s in prison.”
I felt a pit in my stomach. “How long can you keep this up, Bridger?”
From the exhaustion on his face, I knew I’d asked the toughest question. “As long as I need to. If I lived off campus, I wouldn’t be afraid to be caught all the time. But I have a full ride at Harkness, and that pays for the dorm, not an apartment.”
“And there’s no such thing as a part-time student here.”
He shook his head. “No such thing. So, I already did the math on transferring to UConn. But it would cost so much more. You might not know this, but nobody does financial aid like Harkness. And they give me the full package, because they get to check a box next to my name under ‘local success story.’ Seriously, they care about that. The city keeps track of how many locals they let in.”
I could only shake my head. “You amaze me. You have so much more on your shoulders than most people.”
“Don’t be too impressed. If the wrong administrator wanders by my dorm room while she’s singing along with Frozen , I could be out on the street.”
I put my hand on his wrist. “What can I do to help you?”
He winced. “Nothing, Scarlet. It’s my mess to deal with.” He reached across the table, catching my hand in his larger one. “Just be with me, okay?”
“That’s easy.” I squeezed his hand.
Chapter Eight: You're Making Me Look Bad
— Bridger
“So, we have a stats midterm coming up,” Scarlet said the following week as we walked away from the student center’s cafe take-out counter.
“Are you ready for it?” I was only half listening, because my eyes were focused on the way her jeans hugged her long legs.
“Nope,” she shook her head. “I’m not even close.”
“Ah,” I sighed. “Has your tutor been slacking off?”
Scarlet cleared her throat, a tint of pink appearing on her cheeks. “Only on the statistics.”
I felt a little pang of guilt, then. Because my mind was absolutely not on statistics. “Right. Okay. Well, let’s find a seat here and not in your room. Because your tutor is easily distracted.”
She led me to a sofa by the windows, where I sat down and patted the spot just beside me. “Let’s see your notes,” I said, pulling a sandwich out of our bag.
As much as I hated to waste any of my precious Scarlet time on homework, she needed a little help with time series regression. An hour later, I had finished both the tutoring and a chicken parm.
I had just stood up to throw away our trash when someone called out in our direction. “ Jesus , Bridge! I’ve been thinking about putting your face on the back of a milk carton.” Hartley was coming toward me, hand in hand with his girlfriend, Corey. I stared at them for a second, trying to figure out what it was that looked so different about them. And then I realized that Corey had ditched her crutches, and was walking almost smoothly, with nothing but a cane in one hand. It was wild.
I charged them, lifting Corey off her feet. After swinging her around in a complete circle, I set her down again carefully. “Christ, Callahan. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“Because this is a new shirt, right?” she said, turning around in a circle.
“You goof,” I couldn’t stop smiling at her. “Seriously, you’re looking great.”
“Maybe if you showed up to see your friends more often, my accomplishments wouldn’t be such a shock,” she said.
“Really,” Hartley added. “Where the hell have you been? I can’t even catch you at breakfast.”
I hadn’t eaten breakfast all
“It’s not like she’s throwing loud parties.”
His smile was rueful. “I actually make her be quiet. Even if she’s singing some happy little third grade tune, I tell her to keep it down. It’s like she’s in prison.”
I felt a pit in my stomach. “How long can you keep this up, Bridger?”
From the exhaustion on his face, I knew I’d asked the toughest question. “As long as I need to. If I lived off campus, I wouldn’t be afraid to be caught all the time. But I have a full ride at Harkness, and that pays for the dorm, not an apartment.”
“And there’s no such thing as a part-time student here.”
He shook his head. “No such thing. So, I already did the math on transferring to UConn. But it would cost so much more. You might not know this, but nobody does financial aid like Harkness. And they give me the full package, because they get to check a box next to my name under ‘local success story.’ Seriously, they care about that. The city keeps track of how many locals they let in.”
I could only shake my head. “You amaze me. You have so much more on your shoulders than most people.”
“Don’t be too impressed. If the wrong administrator wanders by my dorm room while she’s singing along with Frozen , I could be out on the street.”
I put my hand on his wrist. “What can I do to help you?”
He winced. “Nothing, Scarlet. It’s my mess to deal with.” He reached across the table, catching my hand in his larger one. “Just be with me, okay?”
“That’s easy.” I squeezed his hand.
Chapter Eight: You're Making Me Look Bad
— Bridger
“So, we have a stats midterm coming up,” Scarlet said the following week as we walked away from the student center’s cafe take-out counter.
“Are you ready for it?” I was only half listening, because my eyes were focused on the way her jeans hugged her long legs.
“Nope,” she shook her head. “I’m not even close.”
“Ah,” I sighed. “Has your tutor been slacking off?”
Scarlet cleared her throat, a tint of pink appearing on her cheeks. “Only on the statistics.”
I felt a little pang of guilt, then. Because my mind was absolutely not on statistics. “Right. Okay. Well, let’s find a seat here and not in your room. Because your tutor is easily distracted.”
She led me to a sofa by the windows, where I sat down and patted the spot just beside me. “Let’s see your notes,” I said, pulling a sandwich out of our bag.
As much as I hated to waste any of my precious Scarlet time on homework, she needed a little help with time series regression. An hour later, I had finished both the tutoring and a chicken parm.
I had just stood up to throw away our trash when someone called out in our direction. “ Jesus , Bridge! I’ve been thinking about putting your face on the back of a milk carton.” Hartley was coming toward me, hand in hand with his girlfriend, Corey. I stared at them for a second, trying to figure out what it was that looked so different about them. And then I realized that Corey had ditched her crutches, and was walking almost smoothly, with nothing but a cane in one hand. It was wild.
I charged them, lifting Corey off her feet. After swinging her around in a complete circle, I set her down again carefully. “Christ, Callahan. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“Because this is a new shirt, right?” she said, turning around in a circle.
“You goof,” I couldn’t stop smiling at her. “Seriously, you’re looking great.”
“Maybe if you showed up to see your friends more often, my accomplishments wouldn’t be such a shock,” she said.
“Really,” Hartley added. “Where the hell have you been? I can’t even catch you at breakfast.”
I hadn’t eaten breakfast all
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