by Nella Tyler
“Mm,” Nicole replied, nodding against my chest. “I should probably go back to the dorm.”
“You’re in the dorm,” I joked. “Just the wrong room.” She snickered and opened her eyes, looking up into mine.
“I don’t think I even texted Ashley to let her know I wasn’t going to be back in,” she said. Nicole stretched, groaning softly, and the feeling of her body against mine was almost enough to make me want to convince her to stay at least another thirty minutes—but I knew she was right. We both had things to do. It was Tuesday morning; I had classes to get to in a few hours.
I kissed Nicole, holding her body close to mine for as long as I dared, but as soon as she started to fidget I let her go and watched her slide out of the bed, looking around for her clothes. “I think your bra is on the lamp,” I said, pointing it out. Nicole giggled and snatched it up, shaking her head.
I watched her get dressed, enjoying the view and trying not to think about all the things I needed to be doing. When she had all of her clothes on, she came back to the bed and kissed me quickly on the lips. “Text me, okay?”
“Before you even get to your first class,” I told her. Nicole grinned and turned away, and my hand fell off of her hip as she quickly walked out of my dorm room and into the hallway.
For a long moment, I just lay there in bed, thinking of how good she’d felt, of how incredibly lucky I was. I had hoped that I would eventually be able to show Nicole that I was serious, and that she would have sex with me—but I hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly. I took a deep breath and found my phone in the pocket of my pants on the floor. I found the message thread between Nicole and me in the app and typed out a quick one.
I promised I’d get it to you before class and here it is! I had such a great time last night. I added a heart emoji and sent it. I told myself that I should probably take a shower before I had to get to class, and started to grab my towel; but then my phone rang.
It was my dad, and I tapped ‘accept’ before I could even think about it. “Hey, Dad! How’s it going?”
“I’m surprised to find you up,” Dad replied, laughing. “Don’t you have an hour or two before class starts?”
“Yeah, but I got an early start today,” I said, grinning to myself.
“Good to hear,” Dad told me. “How’s the studying going for the CPA exam?” I sat down on the edge of my bed, thinking about it.
“I was planning on taking a practice test the next time they have one,” I told him. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for it or not, but I think I might as well take it and see, you know?”
“No way to get better if you don’t know where you’re lacking,” Dad agreed. “But you think you’re getting the material down?”
I wasn’t sure which of us was more excited about the prospect of me getting a job at the firm: Dad, or me. I’d wanted to be a CPA like my dad ever since I was about ten, and I had known when I went to college that that was almost certainly what I was going to study. I knew it was boring to a lot of people, but I didn’t care. I had worked at Dad’s office during the summers as soon as I was old enough to work, in the mailroom and as a kind of office gopher, running errands and doing filing.
I had gotten to know a lot of the higher-ups at Dad’s office, and I knew that they were holding a job for me when I graduated. Of course, if I didn’t pass the exam to get my license, that wouldn’t matter at all. I’d have to find something else to do until I was able to pass the exam. But I had been studying, going over the material, and taking self-tests for months.
“I think I’ve got at least two-thirds of the sections down pat,” I said. I scrubbed at my face, thinking of the complicated problem that had shown up on one of the self-tests I’d taken the week before. Even with a lot of studying, there was no guarantee that I’d pass. I needed to really test myself.
“What else have you got going on in your life?” I smiled.
“I met a girl, actually,” I said. “She’s a freshman. Really cute, and funny, and charming.”
“That sounds great!” I could hear Dad smiling. “Just make sure that you don’t get distracted.”
“Aw, come on, Dad.” I shook my head. “I have never let anyone distract me before.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” he pointed out. “When do you think you’ll have a weekend free to come visit your folks?”
“Sometime soon,” I said, looking at my calendar. I had the app on my phone full, but I liked to have an actual physical calendar too—something to look at when I was at my desk, or other moments like that. “It’s almost midterms, so I’ll need to hang around for that. But before winter break for sure, I’ll come by for a visit.”
“That sounds good,” Dad said. “I know I’m tough on you sometimes, but I’m really excited at the thought of you coming to work for the firm.”
“Don’t worry, Dad,” I told him. “I’m not about to crack under the pressure.”
“As long as you remember that it’s not all work and not all play,” Dad said firmly.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I looked at the time; I needed to get a shower, eat something, and get ready for class. “I need to get off the phone, Dad. Lots of stuff in the air right now—you know how it is.”
“I do indeed,” my dad said. “I’ll give your mom your love.”
“Take some for yourself too, old man,” I told him. “Talk to you again soon.” I hung up the phone and started to plug it in to charge while I showered. The screen flashed and I saw that Nicole had replied to my text.
Hey! So Ashley is going to be off-campus tomorrow night…do you want to come over to ‘my place’? I grinned to myself and answered back that I wanted that more than anything.
I plugged my phone into the charger and went into the shower room to start getting ready for my day. I couldn’t wait to see her again; I knew that Dad would probably be worried if he knew how strongly I felt for Nicole, but I also knew that I couldn’t help it. I would have to keep an eye on myself—but I was definitely going to see as much of her as possible.
PART TWO
Chapter One
A few weeks after I had started dating Ty, as my classes headed into midterms, I walked back to the dorms after getting my essay back from American History to 1893. I had somehow managed to make a fifteen-minute walk take a little more than twenty minutes I realized when I scanned my card at the door.
Time flies when you’re having fun and it drags like a bucket full of rocks when you’re miserable, I thought bitterly. In spite of the fact that I normally took the stairs and hated the elevator, I pressed the button on the ground floor of the dorms to take the rickety old death trap up to my floor.
Part of me was hoping that it would do its thing of coming to a grinding stop between floors and I’d be stuck in the little car for hours; at least then I wouldn’t have to tell anyone about my essay. Unless there are like, five other people in the elevator with you. And then you’ll eventually have to tell them why you’re in such a shitty mood.
For a change, though, there was no one at all in the elevator when the doors opened up. I stepped in and tapped the button for my floor, wanting to look at my paper the way I used to poke at my bruises when I was a little kid—wanting to know if it still hurt, or if the pain had gone away. But I knew better. It would be every bit as bad the third time I looked at the comments and the grade.
My bad luck continued; the elevator didn’t get stuck between the floors, but went straight up to my level without even pausing. I got off and walked as slowly as I possibly could to my dorm room, wishing that I could pull my essay out and light it on fire, and somehow make the grade not count toward the class.
I had known from the beginning that there would be no such thing as a “do over” in college—I hadn’t even been allowed to do any papers over in high school—but after weeks of bad news from almost all of my classes, I felt like I wanted to do the whole semester over; at least if I could change everything other than dating Ty
and having Ashley as my roommate.
Ashley was in the common area of our dorm when I finally walked in. I threw my backpack across the room and threw myself onto the couch, groaning. “I take it your American History essay wasn’t an A-plus,” Ashley said, looking up from her textbook.
“D. I got a fucking D.” I buried my face against the couch cushions. I wanted to scream, but I knew that it would just hurt my throat. It wouldn’t make me actually feel any better. “I don’t even know how that’s possible!” I felt my eyes stinging with tears that I’d been too proud to shed while I was in class or walking across campus. “I’m an idiot. That’s all there is to it.”
“You’re not an idiot,” Ashley said. “Show me the paper.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I am going to wait until I can stand to see it again and then I’m going to burn it and pray to the college gods that I can get a C.”
“I have it on good authority that Jeff, the god of College is a much bigger fan of Red Bull and Cuban sandwiches,” Ashley told me. In spite of how miserable I felt, I laughed.
“It still sucks,” I said, turning onto my back and staring up at the ceiling. “I worked so hard on that damn paper and I didn’t even get a C on it.”
“If you’d let me look at it, I can probably tell you how to improve it do you get at least a solid B on the next one,” Ashley suggested.
“A B would be nice,” I said. I tried to do the math in my head to figure out whether that would be enough to get my grade in the class up to a C—but it was too complicated. “I think I’m at least getting participation points in class. And maybe if I become the luckiest girl in the whole universe, I can get an A on the final.”
“The paper can’t possibly be that bad,” Ashley said flatly. “You’re not stupid enough or lazy enough for it to be as bad as you’re making out.”
“It’s a D!” I stared at her. “A D is a D is a D. It’s that bad.” Ashley sighed, nodding to acknowledge my point.
“But maybe it’s a high D,” she pointed out. “I mean, if it’s only a few things that you can change before the next paper, and that one comes out a B, and you get a B on the final exam and a B on the final paper, you’re all set—right?” I frowned, once more trying to count up my grade to that point in my head. “What’s your grade in the class right now? Dr. Namath must have updated it.”
“I haven’t looked,” I admitted. “I’m too ashamed of how terrible everything is going.” Ashley groaned.
“You need to stop feeling so sorry for yourself and start taking proactive measures,” she told me firmly. “If you do really well in the second half of the semester, you can definitely make it to a C average or better—and hell, it’s not like anyone hiring you after college is going to care, as long as you graduate.”
“That’s if I graduate,” I said, sighing. “If it’s already this hard—and I’m not even taking the hard classes—how am I ever going to get through the rest of college?”
“You’re going to get through it by getting the help you need until you’re in a major where everything makes sense,” Ashley replied. “And I am going to help you with that.” She paused. “You know—I’m going to make a deal with you.”
“Oh god, what’s the deal?” I sat up, interested in spite of myself.
“I want you to do my hair—you did such a good job on Jessica’s and I’m totally jelly,” Ashley said, grinning. “And in exchange for you helping me dye my hair pretty colors, I’ll help you on the next essay.” I stared at her for a moment and then began to laugh. It was true that Jessica’s hair had turned out gorgeous; I had always had a knack for hair.
In fact, I had originally wanted to go to cosmetology school to do hair. When I had been dating Dillon, my plan had been to graduate high school and go directly into cosmetology. But he’d told me over and over again what a waste it was, and how he couldn’t see himself ever being serious about a woman who couldn’t even manage to pull off a degree. I’d believed him—and I had wanted to stay with him for the rest of my life at that point.
So I had applied to colleges instead, and by the time I’d managed to find the courage to break up with him, I’d been accepted to West Central. Even though I’d managed to reject most of what Dillon had drilled into my head while we’d been dating, I’d never shaken the idea that a degree was better than a certification. Especially since my parents were so happy to hear that I had gotten into college, and that I wanted to get my degree.
“Okay,” I said, smiling a little. “I will do your hair if you’ll help me write my next essay.”
“I’m going to need to look at the one you got the grade on to know where to begin,” Ashley told me.
She looked at me steadily until I got off of the couch and walked across the room to where I’d thrown my backpack. I took a deep breath and unzipped the bag, reaching in to grab my paper. It was right on top of the rest of my things, so it only took me a moment to find it. I didn’t even look at it as I handed it to Ashley.
“Whatever you think about it, just…please don’t laugh too hard,” I told her. “I know I’m an idiot already—I don’t need to know it any more.” Ashley smiled.
“I swear I won’t laugh. Why don’t you go down to the Student Union? I think one of the clubs is giving out snacks.”
“Maybe I can find a worthy offering for the college gods there,” I said ruefully. If nothing else, I thought, it would take my mind off of my terrible grades for a little while. I grabbed my purse and made sure I had my keys and my ID and my phone and went back down to the lobby; I took the stairs instead of the elevator, and by the time I was out of the building, I was already starting to feel a little bit better.
I ran into Ty halfway across campus. “Hey, babe!” Ty gave me a quick kiss on the forehead, shifting his backpack on his shoulders. “Where you headed to?”
“To the Student Union to drown my sorrows in free snacks,” I told him. Ty put an arm around my shoulders and fell into step with me, both of us walking toward the Student Union building.
“Drown your sorrows? What’s wrong?” I half-smiled.
“I got a D on my history paper,” I told him. “Ashley is looking it over now so she can help me do better on the next one, but I’m pretty sure at this point it’s hopeless.”
“It’s never hopeless until final grades are in,” Ty said, smiling and giving me another quick kiss. “Did I ever tell you about my freshman Literature class?” I shook my head.
“No, you didn’t,” I replied.
“I’m making okay grades now,” Ty explained, “but I swear I nearly failed Introduction to Literature. My first three grades were a D, a C and another D.” He shook his head. “Even if I had ever thought of studying something else than Accounting, that first semester almost destroyed me.” I smiled a little bit.
“Yeah, well, Literature is the only class I’m doing halfway decently in,” I told him. “I’m barely keeping my head above water in any of my classes.”
“You’ll get the hang of it,” Ty told me, giving my shoulder a squeeze as we approached the Student Union. “It takes time to adjust. Besides, you haven’t chosen a major yet—once you find that thing you’re awesome at, you’ll do great.”
I nodded, thinking to myself that I’d already found the thing I was awesome at: hair. I had never in my life stressed out as much about dyeing or cutting or styling someone’s hair as I had in the past nine weeks over my classes.
We went into the building together and I tried to forget all about my bad grade, telling myself that Ashley and Ty had both told me that there was still time for me to pull my GPA up. I gathered up as many free snacks as I could, sampling a little bit of everything, and thought about what Ty had said about finding my major. I knew for a fact that I was great at hair; but had I really given anything at the college a chance? I’d been so busy wishing that I could do something that I really, truly liked that I might have been sabotaging myself just to be stubborn.
I should look over
the course catalog, I thought to myself as Ty and I headed back to the dorms together. There had to be something that the college had to offer that would get me just as excited as cosmetology school had, didn’t there? I would find whatever it was, and go into that major, and that would make all of it so much easier.
Chapter Two
“The test will now begin,” the proctor said at the front of the classroom. I bent my head and looked down at the scantron in front of me, pencil in hand. “You may open your test booklets.”
I took a deep breath and opened the test booklet, breaking the seal with the end of my pencil. I had been preparing for this moment for weeks; I hadn’t told anyone—not even my father, not even Nicole—about the practice CPA exam, but I’d been working toward taking it.
I wanted to have some kind of solid, concrete evidence of how ready I was to take the exam at the end of the year, when I graduated. I had told myself over and over again since scheduling the practice exam that I was going to be fine; even if I didn’t get a great score, I would just know where I needed to improve, and that would be fine.
I knew that Nicole was curious about what I was so busy with so often. I’d had to cancel a few dates over the previous few weeks to take time to prepare for the practice exam. The actual exam was a fourteen-hour marathon test—the practice exam in front of me would only be three hours.
But it was split into the same sections as the real test: Auditing and Attestation, Financial Accounting and Reporting, Regulation, and Business Environment and Concepts. The practice test was broken up into two portions: the scantron multiple choice part was 108 minutes long, while the simulations part at the end was 72 minutes long.
As I went through the multiple choice questions one by one, I tried to focus on the test itself. I’d always been a good test-taker; I had gotten a great score on my SATs, only 200 points away from perfect, and did even better on my ACTs. But just knowing how much rode on me passing the CPA exam made me more nervous than any other test I had ever taken in my life.