She was just about to give up and go wait outside the library for him to exit when someone gripped her from behind on her sides and made her squeal and jump. Ainsley spun around and glared whoever it was down. Adam stood right behind her with the cockiest grin on his face. She shook her head and punched him in the arm.
“That was not nice,” she said and headed out of the library. “Come on, I’m starving.”
“Hold your horses. I need to check out these books.”
“Adam, it’s the first week of school. You do not need to check out books.”
“I do. I have to start working on my senior thesis. The introduction is due in two weeks!”
Ainsley furrowed her brow and shook her head. “I’m so glad I’m not a senior.”
“Next year, love.”
She laughed. “You clearly don’t understand what English majors do for their theses. Specifically writing majors. Nothing. We put together a portfolio of our work and voila! Done!”
“Right. You can think that.”
Ainsley glared at him but followed him to the front desk. He set four books down on the desk and waited for the student worker to come over and help him. Leaning over it, she watched as he chatted her up, flirting with her the whole time. Ainsley bit her lip, envying his ease at flirting—she’d always been horrible at it. Adam had tried to give her lessons once, and it had resulted in a massive meltdown of giggling, ending the worst night of embarrassment she’d ever had.
He had her number on a sheet of paper before Ainsley could even see what he’d done to earn it, and they were walking out the doors to the library. She rolled her eyes and did a double step to keep up with him.
“Cafeteria or somewhere else?” Adam asked.
“Cafeteria,” she answered. “I’m back from summer and not disillusioned with the food yet.”
“How long do you think it’ll take you?”
“A week,” she said with a huge grin. “It’s the same food every day, so yeah—a week at best.”
“Good. It’s all you can eat today, and I’m hungry.”
“You would eat a whole cow if someone stuck it in front of you.”
Adam seemed to contemplate her comment before nodding his head in the affirmative. “I could probably manage that one.”
Ainsley rolled her eyes and then hooked her arm through his as they walked down the broken sidewalks toward the commons. She had it in her head this was going to be the best year of college yet. It was Adam’s last, but not hers, and she would be stuck next year without her best friend and comrade. A tear stung her eye, and she pushed the feeling away, wanting to focus on the fun times they would be having.
“There’s a party Friday down at the Loft.”
“Is there?” she asked.
They hadn’t been there since the end of the year bash last May. It was one of the biggest that the girls had thrown, and yet the cops still hadn’t been called. Ainsley shook her head and remembered just how drunk she had been, or at least she tried to remember it—she couldn’t actually remember more than three-quarters of the night.
“Jello shots?” she asked.
“Always.”
“We going?”
“Absolutely. We need to crash that thing with some people who really know how to party.”
“I don’t want to get as drunk as I did last time. That wasn’t fun the next three days.”
“Promises,” he said, grinning at her and then opening the door to the commons. “My lady.”
Ainsley blushed and walked into the commons in front of him. Before she could even turn around to wait, he had her arm in his again and steered her toward the line to get into the cafeteria. She looked down the hallway of fifty plus students waiting to be swiped in for their meal and wished they had gotten there ten minutes earlier. Ten minutes could make all the difference in how long they would have to wait for food.
“Are you done with classes for the day?” Adam asked her.
“Yeah. Tuesdays and Thursdays are my short days.”
“Good,” he answered. “I still have one more this afternoon. Economics.”
“Oh fun,” she said. “Sounds like a real interesting course.”
“Eh, should be entertaining at the very least. The prof is a bit eccentric I hear.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. “Apparently he’s okay with the whole student-professor thing.”
“And how the hell do you know about that?”
“Rumors.”
They took a few steps forward, and Ainsley looked around the commons, hoping to see someone else she knew. The beginning of the semester was always an odd time. She would look for all her friends from the last year in the first week—it always seemed like it would take her forever to see them again.
“He does this abroad course every year that’s three weeks in the summer, and apparently every year a new student gets deflowered.”
“That’s stupid,” Ainsley muttered.
“I guess he figures it’s safer on the other side of the world. His wife is probably less likely to kill him then.”
“He’s married?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Which prof is this?” she asked, taking yet another step forward.
“Jones.”
“Such an unassuming name. Wait…isn’t he the one who likes to red wing?”
“Uhhh…”
“Yeah!” Ainsley’s eyes widened, and she looked Adam full on. “He’s the one. Damn, you’re in class with him? I hear he’s really hard.”
“Hard is sexy.”
Ainsley rolled her eyes realizing her unintended double entendre. She blushed again and then shook her head. “How do you even know he swings both ways.”
“Oh, I know,” Adam said and tapped his temple with a grin. “Trust me.”
“Are you going to try?”
“Hell no! I’m not that stupid. I don’t want my grade to be fucked up.”
“Yeah,” Ainsley said and looked at the ground. That was the number one reason she had to get Meredith out of her head. If anything it would only ruin in her grade for the class and cause more strife than necessary. She didn’t dare look up at Adam, afraid he would easily read her thoughts. It was just a stupid crush, a moment of instant physical attraction and nothing more.
“Hey, look! Two more people.”
“Good. I’m beyond hungry.”
Adam snickered. “You always are.”
“Shut it,” she said and punched him on the arm again.
“I don’t want him, but I’m certainly going to have a bit of fun trying to figure out which student he’s going after this semester.”
Ainsley sighed, not happy they were back on the professor-student conversation. If anything, she wanted to steer clear of that one as widely as possible. Adam would figure it out, and he probably wouldn’t do anything to discourage her either. He always said she needed to be in a relationship before he was, and that she was built for settling down unlike him.
Instead of asking him another question to keep the conversation going, she changed the topic. “Hey, when is Crossroads meeting again?”
“Next week. Same time and place as always.”
“We need to elect a new president, right?”
“Yeah, and vice and treasurer.”
“When’s the parade?”
“First weekend in October.”
“Good! I need to start thinking about my costume.”
“Hiding yourself again? Silly girl, you don’t have to do that.”
“It’s fun,” she said, pouting as the student swiped their ID cards through the machine and ushered them into the cafeteria. Once they got in through the doors, there were new lines formed for them to wait. Adam brushed around Ainsley and headed for the pizza—his go to meal when they ate there—while Ainsley debated between pasta and a burger.
#
Meredith was alone in her office again, door open in case any student wan
ted to stop by. She had office hours and was stuck there until they were done. The advantage to being a university professor was the flexibility of hours. The disadvantage was that she was stuck at the school during certain times of the day, particularly when she’d rather be in her home office working on her side projects.
Sam was in a conference with a student, otherwise she’d be hunting him down to chat with him. No one else in the department particularly interested her in conversation, so she stayed in her office and waited for some wayward student to come talk to her. She wasn’t the most popular professor in her department, but she was well-liked enough by students. Meredith had expectations, and she wanted them to work hard and learn a lot.
Her students weren’t handed out an easy A. She sighed and looked at her computer and then at her notebook she always kept next to her desk. Her meeting was done and over with, and she had two more hours of office time left before she could head home for the day. Her lesson plans were done for Thursday, and she really didn’t see the need to plan out Tuesday’s yet.
Biting her lip and looking out her office door, Meredith determined no one was coming in. She popped open the Internet and went straight to Google. Opening her documents, she chose the last chapter she had worked on and expanded the file. Settling down into her chair, she read through the last paragraph quickly and picked up right where she left off.
She typed furiously on her computer for a few minutes before checking back out her door. Her heart rapped in her chest, and she was scared to death she would be caught. Rarely did she find time to write when at work, but when she did, she always felt guilty. If there was one thing Meredith wanted, it was to keep her work life and her writing life separate as much as possible. Sam was the only one who knew she published on the side, and that was more because she had to ask him certain questions.
By the time the knock came at her door, she’d already finished three whole pages. Facing the door, Meredith saw one of her students from last semester smiling back at her. She ushered him in with her a wave of hand and grinned.
“Caleb! So nice to see you!”
“Yeah, it is. Sorry I didn’t take your class this semester.”
“Nonsense. There are much better teachers to take up your time.” She leaned back toward her computer and closed out of the document, saving her any possible embarrassment. Turning back to Caleb, Meredith waited for him to let her know why he was there. “What are you taking this semester?”
“Medieval lit.”
“That’s supposed to be an excellent class. Linda put a lot of thought into it. Her design of the class structure is most interesting.”
“Yeah…” he answered, and Meredith realized she had gone on a bit of a rant.
“What else?”
“Short stories, with Sam Campbell.”
“Good, good.”
“The rest are just required courses. I can’t take anymore lit classes next semester. I’ve already overloaded on them as is.”
“Tough when you find something you like, isn’t it?” she said with a smile and cocked her head to the side. Her hair fell over her shoulder, and she had an urge to sweep it back, but she ignored it. Caleb was a good student, one she had liked and seen a lot of potential in, but he still hadn’t given her a reason for dropping by.
Caleb shuffled his feet on the ground, and Meredith realized he was probably uncomfortable. Remembering after a second that he had never been comfortable one on one with her or any other professor for that matter, she leaned back in her chair and tried to make him more at ease.
“Was there something I could do for you?”
“Yeah! I was hoping to get my final paper back from last semester. You said we could stop by—”
“I have it.” Meredith turned her chair around to look at the filing cabinets along the far side of her wall. She stood up, her hips swaying as she steadied herself in her heels, and grabbed the second drawer down. ENGL 367-02 was written across the file. Inside were different manila folders for each assignment. Grabbing the one marked final, Meredith walked back to her chair and flipped through it until she found Caleb’s.
“Here you are,” she said, handing it to him.
“Thanks.”
He shuffled his feet again, and she expected him to leave in the next few seconds. He had what he wanted, and while he was one of her favorite students, Caleb was shy around anyone with authority. Swallowing, Meredith waited for him to make his next move.
“I guess I should get going,” he said, pointing his thumb in the direction of the door.
Meredith grinned. “All right. Don’t be a stranger. My door is always open.”
He muttered something Meredith missed and headed out with his backpack in his hands, stuffing the paper into the largest opening as soon as he stood up. He always was shy, she thought and smirked again. Turning back to her computer, Meredith debated pulling up her writing again. She’d taken a risk and almost been caught. Instead, she opened up a new document and typed out her lesson plan for the next Tuesday, thinking it was better to get ahead while she could than be behind when she couldn’t afford it.
The second knock at her door startled her. Turning in her chair, Meredith looked up to find Ainsley Jacobs standing in her doorway with a sour look on her face. Furrowing her brow, she motioned for Ainsley to come in and focused only on her.
“Everything all right, Ainsley?”
“Yeah. I was just reading through your syllabus and had a question.”
“You could have emailed.”
Ainsley shrugged. “I was still on campus.”
“Ah. Well, what’s your question?”
“I’ve never taken a memoir class before.”
“I’m aware. I’m the only one who teaches them here and you have not been my student before this semester.” Meredith tried to lighten the mood but felt her attempt was scuttled.
“How—how personal does it have to get?”
Meredith rubbed her lips together and took in the full image of Ainsley sitting in the wooden chair in her office. She looked frightened but not enough to be hiding some serious tragedy. Meredith had seen that before, had dealt with it before. She let out a quick breath and reached forward, setting her hand on Ainsley’s arm.
“As personal as you want it to be. Memoir isn’t about writing out your darkest secrets. It’s about expressing a moment in the past with literary creative license. It’s about adding creativity to a story already made. Each story is going to be told from one perspective or another, and so that changes the mood of it.”
“Right…so whatever I want it to be.”
“Basically. You do have to follow the guidelines of the assignment, but as personal as you want to make it or as impersonal as you want to make it. Although, if you wanted impersonal, you might have gone with the autobiography course next semester.”
“I’ll think about that.”
When Ainsley looked up, her dark eyes were brighter than they had been. Meredith briefly wondered what secret Ainsley didn’t want shared but dismissed it quickly. It wasn’t her job to pry—it was her job to just be there.
“Is that all you were worried about?” Meredith asked.
“Yeah. Just had me thinking.”
“I hope it didn’t worry you too much. When I grade, I don’t grade on the events but on the creativity of the writing and on the quality of the writing itself. It’s not my job to judge your stories.”
“Good to know.”
Meredith smiled again and turned her body in her chair with one toe planted neatly on the ground. Ainsley looked like an average college student with short sleeve shirt and jeans on, especially with the backpack planted at her feet, but there was something else unmistakable about her. It’s what drew Meredith to her. She was older than she seemed—not in age perhaps but in attitude.
“There’s a potluck for majors and minors every semester. Have you been to one before?” Meredith asked, not knowing why she was even bringing it up.
&nbs
p; “I haven’t, actually. I’ve wanted to go, but it always conflicted with something else. That and I didn’t officially declare my major until the end of last year.”
“Are you going to this semesters?”
“When is it?”
“October third.”
Meredith watched as Ainsley pulled up her phone and scrolled through the calendar. She made a noise with her teeth and lips before looking up at Meredith. Meredith’s stomach fluttered to life with nerves.
“I think I can make that work.”
“Good. I think it’ll be a good experience for you.”
“Probably would.”
Ainsley looked back up at Meredith, and any trepidation she’d had earlier was completely gone. Meredith was glad to see she was far more relaxed, more at ease than she had seen her in their whole day of acquaintanceship.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to work. Don’t want to keep you,” Ainsley said and stood, slinging her backpack over her shoulder again.
Meredith stood and mirrored Ainsley’s position. She pressed a hand to her arm and smiled. “My door is always open if you need anything. Just drop on by, even if you think it is a silly question.”
“Right. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Ainsley left, and Meredith sat back down, her fingers warm and tingly from where she’d held onto Ainsley’s arm. Shaking her head, she turned back to her computer and scolded herself. She shouldn’t touch Ainsley—it would only encourage Ainsley, and it would only encourage her.
Chapter Three
The beat of the music reverberated around in her chest. The thump thump keeping time with her steps as she walked closer to the house they all called The Loft. Adam was right by her side, dressed in tight jeans and halfway-unbuttoned shirt, revealing his bare chest with hardly any hair on it. He had insisted Ainsley wear something sexier than what she’d had on when he picked her up. So her shirt was low enough she felt her boobs were about to fall out. She’d managed to insist on keeping her jeans to at least be somewhat comfortable.
People were already pouring in and out of the two-story house in the center of the block. Ainsley and Adam walked up to the door and were greeted by one of the host’s boyfriends. He held out his hand for the five dollars to add to the pot for the alcohol. Handing the money over, they were let inside to the sea of people.
Memoir in the Making: A May-December Romance Page 2
