A Higher Education

by Rosalie Stanton

  Will fought the urge to look over his shoulder. Old?

  Then again, perhaps it was a matter of perception. The blonde barely looked old enough to drive, which in turn made him feel old because that time seemed so far away from where he was now.

  He realized the blonde was looking at him expectantly and fought for something to say. “She’s younger than I am.”

  “I think guys just wear it better. Anyway,” the blonde said, leaning in, “she changed her tune almost immediately after the professor let it slip who you are.”

  Yeah, he’d noticed that too. Elizabeth had been dead-set on ignoring him until the professor started prying. Then she’d broadcast her own situation to the class, and he hadn’t known why. Not at first. He’d wondered if it was a compulsion with her—to be loud and brass and volunteer information or make blunt, abrasive demands of people she’d just met.

  It hadn’t been until she’d met his eyes that he’d understood she’d been doing it for him.

  He’d wanted to thank her afterward, and see, possibly, if they could start over. Well, start over insofar as apologize for his rude behavior and determine if it was possible to get through a semester in the same class. That surprise had been quite the ugly wakeup call this morning.

  One way or another, Elizabeth seemed determined to occupy his thoughts. He figured he owed it to her, and himself, to see if he could make nice, just so the times where they were forced to interact wouldn’t be so awkward. He didn’t think he could stomach more classes like the one they’d shared today, and there was no telling how many other subjects they might have together over the course of their respective academic careers.

  He hadn’t meant to overhear her conversation with her mother. It had just happened.

  “Will?” The blonde across from him waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you all right?”

  He blinked and snapped back to himself, then flashed her what he hoped was a decently apologetic smile. “Sorry,” he said. “Wandered off a bit.”

  “I don’t blame you,” she cooed, sliding forward in her chair. “Today must have been rough, reliving all that about your dad.”

  He felt his smile turn acidic. She seemed determined to talk about his parents. Or get him worked up so she could provide some comfort. Too damn bad. “Yeah, well,” he said at length, “it’s not something you forget or anything.”

  She nodded. “Well, do you have plans tonight? I thought we could…get started on the reading. See how we might tackle our assignments. Since we’re going to be working together and all.”

  “With Randall, right?”

  Her grin faded a bit. “Yes, with Randall.”

  “Who was supposed to meet us here.”

  “I told you. He’s running late.”

  Will sighed heavily, but it did no good—he felt his temper steadily rising, and he couldn’t afford to go off on her. He very much doubted the professor would allow him to switch groups. Or maybe she would, given that she’d seemed equally enthralled with the size of his bank account.

  This was why Will didn’t care for making friends.

  “Well, I have a class here shortly and can’t wait,” Will said. “And we probably don’t need to get together before we know what our assignment is, anyway. So I think we hold off meeting for now. I don’t know yet how much work I’ll have to do tonight and I need to make sure I have time to get all my reading in.”

  To her credit, the blonde didn’t object, though her eyes lost the flirtatious shine and the corners of her mouth tipped downward. She nodded and rose to her feet, collecting her purse as she went. “Sounds good,” she said. “I better get going too.”

  He couldn’t help himself. “Not going to wait for Randall then?”

  A light blush flickered across her cheeks. “Ah. No. He might have forgotten, and like you, I can’t stay around here. My next class is across campus.”

  Will nodded. “Right.”

  “Well…umm…bye.” She walked around him in a hurry, leaving him blessedly alone at last.

  He waited for a moment, debated heading toward the lecture hall where his next class was being held, then decided his system could use another shot of caffeine. He hadn’t exactly gotten much in the way of sleep last night.

  His decision to linger, he told himself, had nothing to do with the fact that Elizabeth was nearby.

  Nothing whatsoever.

  * * *

  She’d chosen a public place on purpose for this phone call. Hopefully, being around others would keep her from flying off the freaking handle.

  After buying a blueberry muffin and the largest cup of coffee the Meryton Mudhouse offered, Elizabeth tucked herself into a corner booth, which provided a nice illusion of privacy. She still had a view of the bustling café, though, and the chatter around her was loud enough that she wouldn’t forget herself.

  Plus she’d spied Will across the room. Because he just had to be everywhere, apparently.

  Elizabeth forced a sigh. It would do her no good to focus on that at the moment. Not when she had a call to make. She pulled out her phone and drew up her father’s contact information, then hit the call button.

  Her father answered on the second ring. “Lizzie, so good to hear from you.”

  “Hi Dad.”

  Two syllables. That was all it took. Two little syllables for her father to know this wasn’t an ordinary call.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Did something happen? Are you okay? I can be there in four hours.”

  “No,” Elizabeth blurted, wiping at her eyes, which had started to sting. “No, I’m fine. Everything here is fine.”

  “You know I can tell when you’re lying to me, don’t you?”

  “I talked to Mom today.”

  A beat. “Oh? Is she doing… How is she doing?”

  “About as well as you’d expect. She told me she’d go see a psychiatrist before I left. It was somewhat conditional… Well, not really. I was going to leave regardless.”

  “Of course. You needed to. It was well past time.”

  “Right.” She swallowed. “Anyway, she’s reneged.”

  A long sigh filled the line. She could picture her father running his hands through his salt-and-pepper hair, stalking the familiar strip of carpet that had prematurely aged due to his pacing habit.

  “Elizabeth,” he said at last, “you tried. I know you love your mother. I do too. But she’s… You can’t make people get better who don’t want to get better.”

  And then she couldn’t help it. The question pushed against her lips until she had no choice but to let it come tumbling out. “Are you getting married?”

  The line fell quiet for a long moment, so long that she checked to see if the call had been dropped. It hadn’t.

  “Dad? Are you still there?”

  “I… Yes, I’m here. Did you just ask me if I’m getting married?”

  “Mom saw something on Facebook. About you being engaged.”

  “Your mother’s on Facebook again?”

  “Answer the question, Dad.”

  “Do you really think I would get engaged and let you find out on social media?”

  She tried her best to keep those damn stupid tears that had gathered in her eyes from falling, but she was just one person and couldn’t compete with gravity. “I didn’t know. I didn’t check. I was too afraid that it was true and I wanted to ask you first.”

  “Sweetheart, no. Of course not. I don’t know…” He paused. “Wait. Theresa went to a bridal shop with her sister, who is getting married in five months. There were pictures and—”

  And now Elizabeth couldn’t help herself—she started crying in earnest, feeling embarrassed and hating that she couldn’t stop. The relief his words provided was immeasurable and intense.

  At one point, the relationship she had with her father had been sacrosanct, but she was still sorting through the debris left from the bomb he’d lobbed into her life after high school graduation. While her mother had always been
difficult, Elizabeth had grown up believing wholeheartedly that her father was a man madly in love with his wife. Come to find that had been a lie. He’d stayed with her mother until he’d figured it would be safe to leave, which turned out to be about five minutes after Elizabeth had collected her diploma.

  The past few years had been an exercise in reconciling the fact that her father was a remarkable actor, and trying to find her way back to the relationship they’d had before. It wasn’t easy, and she’d never quite gotten to the point where she trusted there wasn’t another bomb waiting to explode.

  In fact, the entire experience had prompted her to reconsider the childish convictions about romance at all. If a good man like her father could have her so thoroughly snowed, what did that say about other men? What the hell use was there in trusting anyone?

  Pretty much none.

  She gave another choked sob.

  “Oh, Lizzie.” Her father sounded heartbroken, which only served to make her tears harder to stop. “I’m so sorry. I would never let you find out that way.”

  “Sorry, Dad,” she said at last, getting a hold of herself. She cast her gaze around the café, feeling at once horribly self-conscious and foolish. Thankfully, Will’s back remained to her, and no one else seemed to be paying her any attention.

  “I won’t deny I’m a little shocked you thought I could do something like that.”

  Guilt collided with resentment, but she shoved it back. “It’s been a long day,” Elizabeth said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “It’s not even ten yet.”

  “Yeah. That long a day.” She fixed her gaze on the back of Will’s head, and before she knew what was happening, the events of the last twenty-four hours were spilling from her lips, up to the enemy she’d made of her first professor of the day. “I probably should have kept my mouth shut. God knows he’s an asshole, but that just seemed wrong.”

  “You absolutely should not have kept your mouth shut,” her father replied, his voice soft, and she could almost see him smiling at her. “Sure, this Will guy is a jerk, but the daughter I raised stands up for everyone when the time is right. I’m very proud of you.”

  “Thanks,” she said, somewhat hoarse. “That makes me feel a little less like an idiot. I might need another pep talk when the grades are posted.”

  “It won’t be as bad as all that. Professors like students with spirit.”

  “Yeah, that’s not how the world works anymore, Dad. I’m not sure if it ever did.”

  “Then fuck ‘em.”

  Elizabeth burst out laughing, and this was enough to earn a few surprised glances. Even Will turned in his seat. Her mirth faded the second their eyes connected, and what was quick becoming a familiar sense of intense dislike took its place.

  “Been spotted by an asshole,” she muttered into the phone. “I better go. Still need to eat and I don’t want to be late to my next class.”

  “All right. Well, it was so good to hear from you, sweetie. Call me this weekend?”

  Maybe.

  “Yeah. Will do. Say hi to Theresa for me.”

  “And Lizzie—don’t be so hard on your mother. I know she… She’s just not well.”

  “I know. That’s not what gets to me about her.” It was that she flat out refused to seek help.

  “I know.” Her father sighed. “Love you, precious.”

  “Love you too.”

  She disconnected the call, feeling minutely better, though the cry had helped. Crying, Elizabeth had learned, was very cathartic. Negative emotions seemed less threatening after they had been properly exhausted.

  As she knew from experience, it would take a bit for her emotions to reset where her father was concerned, but she didn’t have time to ruminate and plenty to keep her mind occupied. Picking at her muffin, Elizabeth forced her thoughts back to the things she could control. She considered sending a quick apology to Professor Greenfield just to officially get her semester back on track—at least before it could derail too spectacularly—but decided the conversation might be one better had after some time had passed.

  Then, because she couldn’t help it, Elizabeth found herself thinking about her mother again. The text message she’d sent confirming her doctor appointment hadn’t been answered, nor had the one about the taxi being on its way over. The cab driver might be in for a shock—Lynette Bennet wasn’t above throwing things at unwanted visitors. If she didn’t receive an angry message from the cab company, Elizabeth would consider it a personal victory.

  A glance at her phone told her she had about twenty minutes to find her next class. Elizabeth packed up and made her way out.

  She’d gotten a few paces away from the coffee shop when he called after her.

  “Elizabeth.”

  The easiest thing to do would be to pretend she hadn’t heard, but given the way her feet had decided to go funny at his voice, she doubted that excuse would fly. Elizabeth stopped, swallowed. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  “I just wanted—”

  “Seriously.” She whirled around, pinning Will with an angry glare. “Are you just so not used to hearing the word no that you don’t understand it?”

  “Look, I didn’t mean to listen in on your conversation earlier.”

  “You can see where people might be confused.”

  Will scowled, but continued chugging along like the freakin’ little engine. “I was there because I wanted to talk to you.” He paused. “To thank you for what you said to Greenfield.”

  On a rational level, Elizabeth knew he meant this sincerely. On an irrational level—otherwise known as crossing the Lynette Bennet Line—she didn’t care. She’d hit the level of bullshit she could take in a day. “Yes, well, I probably screwed myself in doing so, but at least I know I got an eavesdropper out of the deal.”

  His scowl deepened. “I didn’t ask for that, you know.”

  “Oh, I know,” she replied. “It was just one of my crazy impulses.”

  “For which I was going to thank you, but I see now that would have been a waste of time.”

  “I don’t need pats on the back or atta girl’s for doing the right thing. I was not brought up in a house of participation trophies.”

  A swell of righteous energy expanded in her chest. And she realized, belatedly, that she was enjoying this.

  “Well,” Will said in his most assholey voice, “I won’t make that mistake again.”

  “Smart money’s not riding on that bet, but thanks.”

  “Judging by your people skills, I doubt this was the first or will be the last your mouth got you in trouble.”

  Pleasant shivers shot down her spine, her insides fluttering. It wasn’t just that unloading felt good—because it did—but she hadn’t had a sincere argument with anyone in a long time. Venting her negative emotions had never been an option at home, and god, she’d forgotten how cathartic this could be. That plus the fact that Will was still standing in front of her, his annoyingly handsome face contorted with frustration, did something to her that she would have never thought possible.

  It turned her on.

  And that was a big ole red flag.

  “And judging by recent experience,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky as it felt, “your foot likes to live in your mouth. So I’m not sure how, exactly, you have room to talk.”

  Elizabeth whirled around the next minute and commanded her feet to start walking. Her nerves were on fire and her body felt more alive than it had in years, which would have been nice if it weren’t so damned disconcerting.

  She didn’t want to walk away. She wanted to keep arguing.

  What did it say about her if arguing was what did it for her?

  No, that couldn’t be it. Had to be a fluke. A symptom of an otherwise crappy day, overflowing from a previous crappy evening. Her body was not to be held responsible for what it did under the influence of sleep deprivation and Mom-induced stress.

  But the way his eyes ha
d sparked with challenge, the way he hadn’t backed down, the way he’d fired back…

  She liked that. A lot.

  And if that wasn’t disturbing as all get out, she didn’t know what was.

  7

  The rest of the week, fortunately, passed without nearly as much excitement as the first day, and the second class with Professor Greenfield was uneventful. Elizabeth had gone in expecting the worst, but it seemed the instructor was determined to put the incident behind them and press onward. Even more wondrous, the call she’d asked the check-in nurse to place if Lynette didn’t show for her appointment had never come. When Elizabeth had phoned to make sure this wasn’t an oversight, the nurse had confirmed that her mother had in fact shown up.

  That was one heck of a huge win.

  Will had evidently decided to ignore her, which was fine by her. She was still a little wigged by how their last chat had left her feeling hot for reasons not due to anger. Arguing shouldn’t be one of her buttons. Childhood issues or not, that one was just weird.

  On Thursday afternoon, Elizabeth staggered into the dorm room she shared with Jane. She had several chapters to read and a few short essays to write, but the adrenaline she’d used up on the first day had left her woefully unprepared for a full workweek. Her bed had her name written all over it.

  For a couple hours. Then she’d get busy with all the things she needed to have done tomorrow.

  “Oh, Lizzie! Thank god you’re here.”

  Elizabeth deposited her book bag on the ground beside her bed, then turned toward the open closet, where stood Jane wearing nothing but a pair of sleek leggings and a beige lacey bra.

  “Whoa, hot mama alert.”

  Jane stuck her tongue out at her before turning back to her selection of blouses. “I’m going over to see Charlie,” she announced, grinning. “He has a class he’d like some help in.”

  Elizabeth snorted. “Ah. That old chestnut.”

  “I could use some help too. I think he took the Econ class I’m in. I just need to find the appropriate shirt for flash cards.”

  “Yes, that is quite a dilemma.” Elizabeth flopped onto her bed, and immediately regretted it, as these dorm beds were not made for flopping. On the plus side, it jolted a bit more awareness into her. She sat up, wincing. “So is this an all night study group? Is Charlie going to get rewarded for knowing all the answers?”