by Nella Tyler
I could feel the sweat forming on my back, at my armpits, as I went over one question after another, racking my brain to try and remember a particular regulation, or to come up with a solution to an auditing problem, or balance a financial sheet. I took a deep breath and checked the time every so often, reminding myself that I had been studying the content of the test, that I had been taking mini-tests for months. This is all information you know already, Ty, I told myself as I started to feel a little overwhelmed at the complexity of the questions.
When I had finished the multiple-choice portion, the proctor gave us a fifteen-minute break and I stepped outside to get some air. It was heading into late fall, and starting to get chilly outside in the afternoons; it was a big contrast to the stuffy air in the classroom where I was taking the test off campus. I took my phone out of my pocket and turned it on, and immediately missed text messages from Nicole flashed across my screen. I smiled to myself. So I managed to do a little bit better on the new History paper than I did on the last one! It’s a C+, but that’s better than a D. I texted back a huge smiley-face emoji and a heart and a kiss.
That’s great, Nicki-baby! I’m so proud of you. I checked the time; fifteen minutes was going fast and I still needed to go pee before I had to sit through the section with the simulations. I sent Nicole a text telling her I had to be off the phone for a while and then hurried to the bathroom.
Then I was back in the classroom, my phone turned off and on the desk—to prove it was turned off—and the second part of the test in front of me. I took a deep breath; at least the simulations wouldn’t be as long as the first section. Once I had finished the test, I’d have to wait around for another thirty minutes while a computer scored the exams. The Scantron sheets were already in the process of being scored—there would just be the time it took for the simulations to go into the computer and the computer system to score them.
And then I would know—reasonably well—how prepared I was for the exam when I graduated in another semester. If I did well enough on the practice test, I could go into final exams for the semester without having to worry so much about the CPA accreditation for a while. I could go home for winter break and actually relax a bit. That’s only if I get a medium-high score or better. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Ty.
The proctor explained the section according to the test booklet and passed out the booklets and the answer sheets. I listened carefully, listening to the rules for that section. As before, I had to do it on my own—no checking my phone, no cheat sheet, nothing. The goal was to treat the practice test as much as possible like the real exam. Finally I started on the second portion of the test.
I felt more confident of the simulations than I had during the multiple-choice section, and I got through each question more quickly. By the time I got through all of the questions, I had only three minutes left; I went through the answer booklet and made sure that I had answered everything as correctly and as thoroughly as possible.
Then all that was left was to turn in my answer sheet, provide my practice test booklet to be destroyed, and wait. Fortunately I was able to use my phone once the test was over and I spent the waiting time texting Nicole and Alex and the rest of my friends; I didn’t tell any of them what I was doing or where I was, but it was a relief to have something to do to take my mind off of the test I had just taken. Whatever your score, it’s okay. You’ll be that much more prepared for the exam after you graduate. It’s just a practice test anyway; nobody is ever going to see it except for you and the practice test company.
“Score sheets are printed, folks,” the proctor said, and me and about a dozen other people hurried back into the building and into the classroom to collect our score summaries. The proctor called out our names one by one, and one by one we went up and took our score sheets.
I took mine and left the room right away, just like everyone else; I walked to my car, resisting the urge to sneak a peak until I was alone, reminding myself over and over again that whatever the score was, it wasn’t hugely important—I still had plenty of time to get ready for the exam. I unlocked my car and climbed in. I closed the door behind me, and then I finally, finally looked at my score sheet.
My stomach fell down to my knees as I stared at the results. I hadn’t exactly failed, but the fact that I’d only gotten a low-medium score hit me harder than I would have thought possible. After months of studying, I had barely done well enough on the practice exam to certify as an accountant—if the test had been the real one. Ironically, the simulations had come out on average more poorly than the multiple-choice, in spite of the fact that I had felt more comfortable with that section.
I groaned, scrubbing at my face and reading the breakdown over and over again. I had done all right in Regulations; at least there was that. I had done more poorly in Business Environment and Concepts—especially in corporate governance and IT.
“Fuck,” I said, shaking my head as I read through the details one more time, convincing myself that they were real. “Fucking hell. It would have been better if I’d failed the damn thing.” I threw the score sheet into the passenger seat and started the car. My phone lit up with a text message from Nicole.
Where are you, anyway? I was hoping to see you to celebrate the fact that I am at least hopefully passing American History. I gritted my teeth; I wanted to spend time with Nicole, but I was in such a miserable mood that I knew I’d just drag her down. She didn’t even know that I was taking the practice exam, but she would notice I was in a bad mood, and she’d pull the details out of me just by being her own sweet, concerned self.
I decided that I was going to stay away from campus for the rest of the day; I didn’t want to talk to anyone at all about how the practice exam had gone. I just wanted to get the whole thing out of my mind and start studying again the next day. I took a deep breath and wrote a response to Nicole.
Sorry, babe. I’m running some errands for my parents, I’m a good hour or two away from campus and I think it’s going to take me the rest of the day. I sent it, feeling like a traitor. I was only twenty minutes away from campus; I could just as easily spend a couple of hours with Nicole.
Instead I went to a bar between campus and the practice test site and had a beer—just one. I drank it as slowly as possible and tried to sort out how I felt about how I’d done on the practice exam. It wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened to me; but it was definitely a big blow to my ego.
After all the time I’d spent studying and writing up practice tests from my textbooks, I had barely managed to scrape up a qualifying score on a practice exam. How the hell am I going to get through the fourteen-hour exam if I could just manage to pass the practice? I finished off my beer and decided not to have another one. I had to stop feeling sorry for myself. I had to brush off the low score and get back on top of my exam preparation.
At least I know I’m doing fine in my classes, I thought wryly as I went back out to my car and started it up to head back to campus. I could practically skip the finals for three of them and still get a decent grade in the classes. I wouldn’t of course—that would be stupid—but it would free me up to get in more study time for the CPA exam.
I briefly considered texting Nicole and telling her that I would be on campus after all, to suggest that we study together; but I knew that if I invited her to my dorm I would just get distracted and we’d end up having sex. On the one hand, that would definitely cheer me up. On the other hand, I wouldn’t get anything done. I would have to keep to my cover story of being away from campus.
I sighed and started off toward campus, figuring out the best way to get back into my dorm without anyone noticing me. Fortunately by the time I’d get there most everyone would either be in night classes, the dining hall, or at an event—the dorms would be almost completely abandoned, and it was likely no one would see me. I felt terrible about lying to Nicole, but I couldn’t think of any way to get myself out of it other than just sticking with the lie. I’d see her again soo
n enough, maybe even the next day. I’d have to make it up to her later.
Chapter Three
I was sad that Ty was off campus for the day; in spite of the good news I had gotten on my American History essay, I was still stressing out over my classes. Ashley was on a date with someone, and I was sitting in the dorm room alone, feeling a little sorry for myself. I had decided to go over my Introduction to Psychology chapters again, just on the hope that I might actually be able to get a high enough score on the final to pass the class. I switched the TV over to Ashley’s Apple TV controller and set it to play the first season of Supernatural just to have something on in the background, and settled in to get some studying done.
I opened by textbook and my binder full of notes and flash cards and took a sip of the coffee I’d gotten from the dining hall at dinner. I checked my phone, more out of a desperate sense of not wanting to have to study than any real expectation that anyone would have texted me; but Ty had. I smiled to myself, reading his message. I wish I was with you right now. I thought about him, out running errands for his parents, or maybe having dinner with them. I wished he were in the room with me, even if I knew that would mean that I wouldn’t get any actual studying done.
Me too, I wrote back. I’m trying to get through Psych studying. So far it’s just as annoyingly difficult to understand as ever. I thought about my classes and cringed. It seemed absolutely impossible that I would manage to pull through at the end of the semester with anything better than a low C average—and that was assuming that I could manage to pull off good scores on my final exams and essays. I had next to no room for any lower grades on anything for the rest of the semester.
You’re doing okay overall, Ty messaged back. And as long as you don’t land yourself on academic probation, you still have plenty of time to get your GPA up. You’re a freshman! I smiled glumly at my phone, thinking about what Ty had written to me—what he had told me every time I had worried about my grades. I reminded myself that at least in the mandatory freshman classes—Introduction to Academic Life and Freshman Seminar—I was getting a solid pass, on a pass-fail grading scale. It wasn’t much, but it might bolster my GPA. From what I understood, a “Pass” counted as a solid B.
But I was barely making a C in Psychology. I might make a C in American History if I managed to do well on the final paper and final exam. Literature I would have a C+ or a B in. Statistics I was going to be lucky to get a C- or more likely a D in. Part of me wanted to scream that it wasn’t fair—all of my professors seemed to assume that I had come to college knowing a lot more than I had. But considering how many of my classmates just nodded along, looking confident and as if they understood everything just fine, I felt like I was the slow person in the gifted class.
I hope you can be back on campus tomorrow morning. I really want to see you again! I remembered the fact that Ty had had to cancel a couple of our dates recently; I understood that he was busy, that he was studying hard to pass the CPA exam. He kept telling me how boring it all was for anyone but an accountant, and while I’d looked at his textbooks and not been able to understand anything, I didn’t think it was actually boring. I wanted him to succeed—I wanted him to get what he wanted out of life.
I just hoped that there would be some way for him to get what he wanted and for me to be part of his life. I almost thought that if I didn’t somehow manage to find a major, that if I dropped out—though I was determined not to—that Ty would be within his rights to find someone else to be with, someone who would be a credit to him.
I will definitely be on campus in the morning. If I find you on the way to class tomorrow I will give you the biggest kiss ever.
I grinned to myself in spite of how stressed I felt, looking forward to the moment when I would see Ty again. I almost thought that I should be working harder to get my grades up—but then I worked as hard as I possibly could, and even before I’d met Ty I’d been floundering. If anything, Ty had helped me to improve my grades, even though he distracted me regularly.
I went over my notes while I texted back and forth with Ty, asking him about his day away from campus without—I hoped—getting too interested, or seeming like I was trying to pry. I hoped he was having a better time than I was, sitting in my dorm room while half the campus was out doing other things: going to parties, hanging out in the Student Union, taking over the multipurpose rooms in the dorms to play games or watch movies together.
Do you think we can maybe get a quickie in between two and three tomorrow? I miss you so much… I blushed even as I sent the message to Ty. I wasn’t used to being quite so open about sex—even with Dillon, I’d felt weird about being too forward.
Two and three? I think I can manage that. For you I will make it happen. I laughed, shaking my head at Ty’s response. I had never enjoyed sex with Dillon as much as I had with Ty. Just the thought of being alone with him, just the thought of curling up in his bed, was enough to make me hot all over. He was so good—it was hard to believe that sex could possibly even be that good. Every time we went to bed together I came harder than I had before, or I learned something new about what I liked and wanted to try or about Ty’s body. I actually felt like I could tell Ty about things I wanted to try without being laughed at or told I was some kind of freak.
How many times do you think we can manage in an hour? I bit my bottom lip as I sent the text.
Us? Three times, probably. If we’re doing quickies, that is. The words sent a jolt of electric heat through my spine, straight to my pussy, making me hot and wet all at once. I thought about going into my room and maybe calling Ty, seeing if he was somewhere he could be private, and having a little over-the-phone quickie to help myself focus. But if he weren’t somewhere private—if he was with his parents, or out doing something—it would just be mean to call him while I was all turned on. It was one thing to text back and forth, another to let him hear me moaning while I touched myself, especially if he was with his parents.
He’d mentioned taking me to meet them once or twice in passing, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about the idea. We’d only been dating a month or two—which in college time was practically a year—but I still didn’t know how long things would last between us. After all: Ty was going to be graduating in a matter of months, and I didn’t even know if I was going to be able to even find something to study, even if I managed to keep my grades high enough to avoid academic probation.
How does the rest of your week look? I knew that Ty was busy a lot more often than he had been when we’d started dating a few weeks before; but I’d hoped that maybe things were starting to calm down, especially with finals around the corner. We weren’t going to have much chance to spend time together over winter break, since we didn’t live close to each other.
The week itself is pretty jam-packed, babe. Do you want to do something this weekend? I thought about it. I probably should stay in for the weekend, and get as much studying done as possible. But Ashley constantly told me that all work and no play would drive me out of my mind—and if I was only going to get an hour here and there with Ty through the week of classes, I would definitely want to spend time with him on the weekend.
What do you have in mind? I hoped that it might be a plan for dinner and then spending all night in bed together, or maybe that we’d go to the ice rink, or something like that—but I’d be happy with just about anything.
There’s a house party going on that Alex wants to go to. You game for that? I thought about the couple of house parties I’d been to since coming to college; they were usually pretty fun, though I felt kind of bad about drinking much, since I was underage. Nobody cared, but I was always paranoid that the cops would bust the party, and then not only would I get in trouble for drinking underage, but whoever was throwing the party would go to jail for providing alcohol to someone under 21.
There was also the fact that I’d gone to all my previous parties as a single woman, and I’d had to fend off drunk guys who didn’t take “no” for an ans
wer the first three times I said it when they asked me to dance with them or to go somewhere else.
It would be different with Ty. I could maybe have a couple of drinks, and have a good time, and I knew I could dance with Ty. I texted Ashley to ask if she wanted to go to a party on the weekend, thinking that if nothing else, she and Alex could chat with each other and make up for the fact that Ty and I would be having our own fun together. She said that she was game, and I texted Ty back. Let’s consider it done! As long as we both get through the week.
Ty texted back a thumbs-up and I tried to focus on studying again. I was hot and tingly all over, thinking about our quickie the next day, about the party on the weekend and the fact that I would almost definitely be able to get Ty all to myself after the party. We could go back to his dorm when the party was over and spend the rest of the night making love, and the rest of the weekend studying together.
I looked over my notes until I was so distracted by the prospect of being with Ty again that I had to take a quick, cold shower to cool myself off. I was feeling at least a little more optimistic about my life in general, even if I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to manage to make it through another semester as difficult as my first one in college was proving to be.
At least for the rest of the year I would have Ty, and I would definitely have Ashley’s help—I had done such a good job on her hair that she had said that she owed me at least three papers’ worth of assistance in keeping my grades above average. Not only that, but she’d told everyone who’d asked her who had done her hair—so I had offers of more help in exchange for my services. I might—I hoped—get through at least my first year of college.
Chapter Four
I took the stairs up to Nicole’s dorm room, excited about the fact that it was the weekend and the fact that I’d have the whole weekend with her. I smiled to myself, saying hello to one of the other people from the dorm, heading downstairs. If the party is lame we can just head home early…maybe snatch a few beers to sneak into the dorms and put on a movie and just enjoy ourselves in.