Grown & Sexy Senior (Love 101 #4)

by J. Nichole

  I collapse onto his chest and he pulls my hair away from my face and asks, "You okay?" I kiss his chest and close my eyes. "Don't forget to call Monica," he whispers.

  Chapter Five

  "I'm telling you, I had nothing to do with the new class of dancers." Jennifer paces the length of the living room. "This is all some bullshit."

  "Does the ritual sound familiar?" Monica rubs the back of her neck. "Wait. Don't tell me. I don't want to know."

  "Shit." Nicole smacks her lips. "Tell me. I want to know what y'all have to do. Dance all night? Hold an arabesque without wavering?" Monica and I exchange a look. "Whatever. You two are boring."

  The L.O.S party last night ended with all the members of L.O.S being summoned by Student Activities for alleged hazing. One of the new dancers was rushed to the hospital, and after questioning her and her roommates, they concluded her injuries were related to L.O.S. With bruises across her back and a concussion the hazing Nicole describes would have been minuscule in comparison to what had to have happened.

  When Jennifer joined the dance troupe during sophomore year, I remember her being out late, and participating in random events, but the only thing that resembled any form of hazing was her not being able to dance at parties where the existing members were in attendance. Although it caused no form of physical injury, mentally I'm sure it took all her strength to stay away from the dance floor.

  Our campus has had a low level of known hazing events since we've been on campus. I'm sure it happens but it hasn't been severe enough to send anyone to the hospital, until last night.

  "Are you familiar with the girl who went to the hospital?" I ask Jennifer. She shrugs her shoulders and wags her hand back and forth. "Word on the street, or Facebook, is that she's a freshman."

  Nicole convinces Jennifer to take a seat beside her. She probably would have worn a hole in our carpet from pacing. "What's the worst that can happen?" Nicole looks at Monica, our subject-matter-expert on all things student government.

  "Let's not think about what could happen right now." Monica looks down at her tightly clasped hands. "After you meet with Student Activities they'll give you more details about the investigation. If you haven’t interacted with her, then you should be in the clear."

  "We have four months till graduation." I stand up to walk to my room. We have been congregated in the living room since I returned from Fort Walton Beach. "Only four months to study and stay away from drama." I clap my hands together. "We can do this."

  Nicole mumbles under her breath then says, "The three of you have four months till graduation."

  "Well I have four months till graduation but I'm staying for grad school." Monica looks at Nicole with her head cocked and her eyes squinted. "But what are you talking about?"

  "Just that. I'm not graduating in May." She rolls her eyes and sighs. "All the changes I have made to my major. I have at least another year." Nicole started in the engineering program, switched to computer science, and is now in the business program after deciding she hated math and science."

  Monica grins. "On the bright side, we only have to find two roommates to replace these heffas next year." Nicole doesn't seem amused. "It's cool though. Just as long as you finish, who cares if it takes you an extra year?”

  "Shit. The pastor will care. This out of state tuition is no joke." Nicole crosses her arms across her body. "I haven't even told my parents yet. They don't curse, obviously, but this may just be a breaking point."

  "Not much you can do about it now, Nicole." Monica stretches her legs in front of her. "You should tell them soon so they aren't planning a trip down for May." I nod my head in agreement with Monica. Then I throw my bag on the bed in my room. With the door open I listen to Jennifer and Monica joke about different ways Nicole could tell her parents about not graduating. Although Nicole is laughing, I know she's worried about telling her parents. She didn't get her carefree spirit from her parents, at least not her dad. He's very strict, a color inside the lines type of guy.

  "Shit." Jennifer blurts out. I poke my head back into the living room. "I have to go on campus now." She looks at Nicole and Monica and says, "One of y'all want to ride?" Her voice quivers and her southern drawl is especially thick.

  Neither of them volunteers, and I have a few excuses why I shouldn't go, but I tell her, "I'll ride. Let me just grab my laptop." While Jennifer is in Student Affairs I can start on my project in the Journalism building.

  For a Sunday evening, campus is filled with people coming and going. A group of girls is sitting on the dorm steps, and I smile at them as I pass. The girls and I sat out there many days people watching between classes when we lived in the dorms.

  I walk through the door of the Journalism building and it feels like a second home. Since I have a senior project in most of my classes I’m not just here for lectures, I'm here before, after, and in between. The atrium is stocked with resources specific to journalism and a teacher's assistant is typically there to help with questions, making it better than the library.

  Paige, the editor of the newspaper, is writing on the whiteboard in the atrium where we typically plot out upcoming issues of the paper. A few of the staff members are huddled around a table nearby. Paige stops writing when she sees me. She waves me over and says, "Hope you have time to join us." Since Evan left I haven't been as heavily involved in the strategic meetings. Paige seems to be more ad hoc and doesn't need anyone to plot with her. She'll defend and critique her results but ultimately will take the blame if the wrong decision is made and readership levels drop.

  I take a seat and ask, "Have we started the round robin yet?" In our plotting sessions we go around and throw out ideas. We go around a few times and usually by the end of the session we have ideas with the best potential.

  Paige sighs and circles phrases on the board. "I think I'm losing my touch. Before you all joined, I threw ideas on the board but none of them appeal to the group.” She scrunched her nose, pushing her glasses up. "If you guys are up for it let's do a few rounds."

  A few rounds pass before anything catches my attention. Instead of saying a phrase, one of the staff members turns to me and says, "Isn't one of your roommates in L.O.S?" Not many people around campus have heard about the hazing incident.

  "Yes." Paige interrupts and tries to convince him to follow the plotting rules but the other members ignore her and want more details.

  He continues, "I heard from my roommate in Student Affairs that they hazed a girl and sent her to the hospital." Everyone gasps, including Paige.

  I withhold the details I learned from Jennifer. I'd hate for them to get back to his roommate before Jennifer has a chance to provide her side of the story. But they are convinced the story is going into the newspaper. If it weren't my roommate who could be in a shit load of trouble as a result, I'd be all over the story too.

  "Laila, it wouldn't be appropriate for us to ask you to cover this story." Paige turns to me, hand on hip. "If your roommate wants to be interviewed, just connect us with her." She places a star next to the phrase 'L.O.S.' on the board. She combs her fingers through her curly ponytail. "Any more ideas?"

  Jennifer texts me that she's ready to leave and I excuse myself from the group. I spot her near the library. Her head is hanging low when I walk up to her. "You alright?"

  She looks up and her face is tear-stained. "That was one of the hardest things I've had to do. I'll be happy when this is over."

  I stop walking and grab her arm. "About that. The story will be in the paper this week."

  Her eyes widen and she shakes her head. "I didn't tell them anything,” I say before she gets too worried. “Apparently someone from Student Affairs is the roommate of one of the staff members."

  "Whatever. Soon enough everyone will know anyway." She rolls her eyes. "I hope Derrick can meet me at the apartment." We both laugh.

  "A good dick down will save the day." We continue walking to the car. "At least you have your boo nearby."

  "Yeah I
can appreciate that. But you have a few months before we are out of here." She looks at me. "Wait. Are you going home after we graduate?"

  "Not unless I can't get a job. If it's up to my dad I will not be at the house."

  Her eyebrows arch. "Derrick and I have discussed both of us moving to Dallas. If we have to be long distance I'm pretty sure I'll appreciate the time we've had but I'll part ways with him."

  "Dang. No love for the homie."

  She puts her hand up and says, "I don't see the point." She shrugs her shoulders. "I like face-to-face time."

  I can relate. Being long distance has a number of consequences. Besides, being horny all the time tests your trust.

  Chapter Six

  My alarm clock is blaring, and I roll over and hit the snooze button for the third time. I won't miss these late nights and early mornings. The lids of my eyes shut and then I sit up and grab my phone. Shit. It's Tuesday, and class starts in thirty minutes.

  Last night, we celebrated … celebrated may be a stretch, we partied because it was Monday and we are in college. I put my head against the headboard and look down at my clothes that were never removed from yesterday. I'm enjoying senior year, but now I have to do the walk of shame on campus because I don't have time to change.

  After brushing my teeth and hand-combing my hair into submission, I run out of the apartment to get to campus before class starts. I walk with my head down, trying to avoid all eye contact. Thankfully, I don't have any overlap of classmates in my Monday and Tuesday classes.

  "Laila?" I keep walking and hope whoever it is beckoning me will do the same. "I thought that was you." Dammit.

  Of course, it would be Tre, looking like he's had eight hours of sleep and a fresh shower. "Hey, I'm running late to class." He walks beside me as I begin a trot to the Journalism building. With little effort from him, his long legs can maintain my pace.

  "I'm going this way. I thought you would have called by now." I suck my lips in and sigh. I'm running late to class and he's worried about me not calling him weeks ago? Dear God. Help me.

  "You have my number. Feel free to call me later today and we can discuss your feelings."

  "Damn. It's like that. Just for that, I think I will call you." I laugh and shake my head as he holds the door of the Journalism building for me. "Talk to you later."

  My attempt to duck into class is a failure. All eyes are on me as soon as I walk into the classroom. The professor sitting behind the desk signals me over. "You're late, and we have a quiz." She hands me a paper and says with a stern look, "You have five minutes."

  I take the first open seat I find and look at the questions on the page while I fumble through my bag for a pen. I'm able to answer two of the five questions before the professor walks around to collect the quiz. She opens her lecture with top stories from CNN, MSNBC, and Fox, noting the stark differences in their delivery of the same stories.

  My phone buzzes with text message notifications. Because I was already late, I ignore the messages and the urge to read them.

  "For those of you who need topics for your final project please stop by during my office hours today and we can discuss options." She writes a date on the board, four weeks from now. "Remember you have until the end of February to get your topics approved. Including your identified resources and outline." Everyone moans and she dismisses class as she chuckles.

  I lead the herd of students exiting the classroom. I need a topic for my senior project, but that will have to wait until another day.

  When I'm safely outside, out of view of anyone who would know me, I pull out my phone to catch up on my text messages.

  Josh: How are you today?

  Josh: I'm craving more dessert.

  Josh: Busy this weekend?

  We haven't seen each other in a few weeks. Not since my last visit for his work event. With my projects I may not be able to get home anytime soon. Instead of texting him back I call. "Hey babe."

  "Hey, sorry I was blowing your phone up." I can hear his co-workers in the background. "Just wrapped up a meeting. How's your day?"

  "I stayed up too late last night, and I was late to my first class. It's not off to a good start."

  "Wish I could be there to steal you away from your next class. No point in going since the day is already off, right?"

  I laugh at his suggestion. "Is that what y'all did at A&T? Skip classes? Or is that just a student-athlete privilege?" Josh played basketball at A&T but attended school on an academic scholarship. He followed in his dad's footsteps in both the school and the sport.

  "Absolutely not. But now that I'm out of school I see how having the ability to be spontaneous fades away once you leave school and have real life problems like paying bills."

  He mumbles a few more things and I interrupt, "Sounds like you could use a break from your day too."

  He takes a deep breath. "I could. Wish you weren't three hours away."

  "Me too. Me too."

  "But." His tone changes. "If you aren't busy this weekend I'll come down for a visit." I can hear the excitement in his voice.

  "If you don't mind sharing me with my computer and some project work I need to wrap up."

  "Not at all." My day seems better already. "Alright. I'll get back to work. And don't skip your next class. We can make it through the week. And I'll see you this weekend."

  "Sounds like a plan."

  "Love you." He hangs up while my mouth hangs open. We haven't exchanged those words yet. I'm not sure he meant to say that or if it was a slip of the tongue and mind. Is he thinking it?

  I'll wait to see if he calls back. I stop walking to stare at my phone. The screen is dark. And it's dead. My phone died. He didn't hang up. Fuck.

  I open my purse in search of a charger. Wallet. Keys. Gum. Pads. No charger. My charger is probably still plugged into the wall, in my room, where my phone would have been connected last night had I not passed out drunk. I'm sure by now Josh thinks I'm an asshole for not responding, hanging up, and not answering if he tried to call back. I could go home and start this day over like Josh suggested. Or I could find someone with a charger.

  The library is a good candidate for finding someone more prepared than I for this day. Making my way up the stairs I pass by a group of students leaving the library who look like they could have had an all-nighter here. The look of exhaustion, anxiety, and desperation is familiar, along with the wrinkled clothes and messy, matted hair. Then I realize they could say the same about me. I look down at my yesterday's clothes and reach up to smooth down my hair that wasn't even brushed this morning. At least they have an excuse for looking like hell.

  Instead of walking through the doors I turn around and follow the group down the stairs, watching my feet as I take each step. Going home and getting my life together it is.

  "Hard day at the office?" Monica greets me when I walk through the door.

  "The understatement of the year." I toss my bag and books on the counter and run into my room to put my phone on the charger. The phone doesn't even illuminate when it's plugged in, even more time for me to wait to call Josh back.

  "Wait." Monica yells from the living room. "Don't you have class now?"

  I begin to peel my clothes off to prepare for a much-needed shower. "Yup." Each of us has our preference for classes, and I've always been the early bird. The others should be leaving for their first class of the day soon but Monica seems to be the only one up and moving.

  When the warm water hits my back, my muscles begin to relax, but as much as I'd like to stay in the shower till the water turns cold, I lather up and rinse off. Because I've declared this day a loss I don't bother doing my hair or makeup and throw on joggers and a t-shirt.

  My phone has a little charge and has turned on but I'm not ready to call Josh back yet. Instead, I plop down beside Monica on the couch. Although younger, she always has been a voice of reason for me.

  She looks up from her book with a crooked smile and says, "You good?"

 
After a deep breath I say, "Josh told me he loved me today."

  She squeals, "That's so sweet." When her level of enthusiasm isn't returned she says, "Did you say it back?"

  "Not yet." I sigh again. "My phone died." She laughs and asks for all the details. I tell her what happened bit by bit. "This is the worst day ever," I say after explaining I was late to class and probably failed a quiz.

  She puts her book on the coffee table and wraps her arms around me. "What are you going to do now?"

  "I need to call him back. But I'm not sure if I'm ready to tell him I love him yet." Her eyes grow wide. "I mean I care for him. I do."

  "But you don't want just to say it back because he said it?"

  "Exactly."

  "Wait. If he does love you he will understand and appreciate it more when you say it unsolicited." As always her logic is wiser than her years.

  "Thanks." I give her another hug before saying, "I should go call him back now. Then I'm going back to bed." She laughs and I know she understands.

  I grab my phone and make myself comfortable on the bed. Josh called and sent a few text messages. My hand starts to shake as I push the call button under his name.

  "Laila are you okay?" No, I'm not. I'm freaking out. I don't know how to avoid the obvious. "You had me pissed, thinking you hung up on me, and then worried when you didn't answer."

  "I'm so sorry. My phone died and I didn't have my charger. I took your suggestion and came home." My nerves calm and I'm able to rest my head on the pillow. "I give up on the day. I'll start again tomorrow."

  "And I bet you'll be better in a few hours." The distress in his voice disappears. "Go get some rest and we'll catch up later." Maybe I imagined him telling me he loved me. Or maybe he thinks I didn't hear it. Either way, I can avoid the topic, for now.