Forever Only Once

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  Another professor who taught calculus only counted three exams as the students’ grade. The professor had gotten into trouble for weighting an entire semester’s worth of complicated calculus on one test. Therefore, he added two more tests to his schedule, each one harder than the last.

  Students continually complained about it, but there wasn’t much I could do. After all, that sometimes worked. They excelled at it and continued on in their academic and professional careers to do greatness.

  For students like Dustin, that wasn’t good for him. He’d had to withdraw last semester because of that professor, and now he was in my class. Although I didn’t do those exams the same way, my class was still difficult.

  “Now, Dustin, let’s start where you’re comfortable, and see where we can go from there. You say you have problems with patterns? Well then, let’s find another way.”

  “But what if I never get this?” he grumbled.

  “If you go into this thinking you won’t, it might become a self-fulfilling prophecy. I’m not saying it’ll be easy. And I’m not saying that it will make sense right away, but we’re going to try.”

  Some did end up making sense. It took the full forty minutes of his appointment with me, but he finally got through his homework.

  He was exhausted, and I was a little tired, as well. I had to wonder why he was going into pre-med since when he wasn’t working on his homework, he spoke of writing, something he loved, and his hatred of math and science. But it wasn’t my place to point that out, at least not yet. Further on into the semester, when I got to know him better, maybe I could bring it up and help him figure it out. After all, just because he wasn’t good at calculus didn’t mean he couldn’t do everything else that was required for his degree.

  Although, the sadness in his gaze hit me hard. I wanted him to do well. To succeed. And that was why I did these additional office hours with him—and a few of my other students.

  After setting up our next appointment, I leaned back in my chair and settled my thoughts. I had regular office hours coming up later in the day, but this was a standing appointment between the two of us. I had that with a couple of other students, as well, and it sometimes seeped into my research time, but it was worth it.

  Getting into college was a huge thing, and there was so much pressure put on these kids starting at age fourteen or so. Now, they were eighteen and nineteen years old, possibly on their own for the first time, and a lot of them didn’t know how to study. They knew how to take tests, they knew how to pass high school, but studying in a collegiate setting wasn’t a skill that a lot of people had.

  They had to teach themselves all over again how to get it done because there weren’t a lot of ways to learn otherwise. There were study groups, and there were helpful hints and classes along the way, but sometimes, it just didn’t happen.

  I wasn’t someone who could change the system, I didn’t have that power, but I could help where I could.

  “Time to get work done,” I whispered to myself as I pulled my salad out of my mini-fridge and then got to work on my research. The other part of my office was covered in whiteboards and had a high-tech computer so I could get my work done. But right now, I just needed to focus on my notebook and scarf down this salad.

  Sadly, I’d forgotten the dressing at home, so it wasn’t going to be that great. I hadn’t really been on top of my game for the past couple of days, and I blamed my accidental blind date for that. Oh, I probably could have blamed something else like stress over work, or my students, but it was nothing like that.

  No, it was the date.

  Cross.

  And the fact that he hadn’t texted yet.

  Or called.

  Not that most people called these days, but it could happen. It just hadn’t.

  I didn’t know why I had put so much hope in the idea that he would. I didn’t even know him. Just because we had gotten along well didn’t mean we would have anything more. It was just a one-off, a beautiful night that had started off on a very different trajectory.

  I didn’t know why I was so disappointed that he hadn’t contacted me. I had his number, and I hadn’t reached out either. It just felt weird. And that was my problem.

  I’d already put myself out there by giving him my number. And yet he hadn’t contacted me. It had to be for a reason. Once he got home, maybe he’d realized exactly what a huge mistake he’d made. Or perhaps he was a serial killer and now knew my phone number, along with my likes and dislikes, and was planning to chop me up into little bits later.

  I cringed. I really needed to get those thoughts out of my head. They weren’t healthy.

  “Knock, knock,” Paris said from the doorway. I jumped, dropping my fork onto my desk.

  “You scared the crap out of me. Thankfully, I forgot my dressing, or this would have been a huge mess.”

  I laughed as I said it, cleaning up my strewn lettuce and carrots.

  “Sorry, I thought you saw me. You were off in your own little world.” Paris knelt down by my desk and handed me a cucumber slice.

  “Thanks,” I said, wincing.

  “No problem. I was going to see if you wanted to get lunch since I was out for a business meeting all morning. I don’t have to be back for a couple of hours. But it seems you already have your lovely lunch.”

  “I didn’t know you were doing business meetings now,” I said, ignoring the swipe at my lunch. She was right, after all.

  “Not all the time. But we’re on the hunt for someone to replace Jeff, and that means I get to go and do more of his work. On top of mine. Thankfully, my boss seems to get that and gave me a couple of hours off.”

  “I would love to get lunch with you, but I kind of used my lunch hour to work with a student.”

  Paris smiled, her expression turning warm. “That’s wonderful. I mean, not the fact that you’re not eating, but that you’re such a great teacher. I don’t know if I would have the patience.”

  “You learn it. Or…you just don’t teach. At least, you shouldn’t if that’s not in your skill set.” I shrugged. “But that doesn’t matter. I love what I do, even though I’m tired right now, you know?”

  “No, I don’t. Because you didn’t tell me about the rest of your date. I mean, you mentioned the whole accidental run-in thing, which, oh my God, how amazing is that? However, I don’t really know much more.”

  “There really isn’t much more to say outside of what I already told you.”

  After I had gotten home, Paris called again, this time on a four-way chat with the other girls so they could ask me exactly what had happened. Apparently, I had been a little too mysterious when I hung up with Paris during dinner. They had all been a mix of surprised, worried, and excited.

  Considering that I was going through all of those same emotions, it was understandable.

  “I think you already know everything,” I said finally.

  Paris raised a perfectly sculpted brow. “Really? So, there’s been no contact since?”

  “No,” I said, my stomach clenching. And thank you for reminding me that he hasn’t called or texted.”

  “First off, it’s been less than forty-eight hours. And you have his number, as well. You could call him. After all, that is what this pact is about, right? Taking our futures into our own hands and forging our own paths. Along with friends.”

  I shook my head. “I was already on that path. It didn’t work out. A literal organ was taken from someone’s body.”

  “That is a problem. But that’s not something we should focus on right now. Besides, it wouldn’t have worked out between you and Stavros anyway.”

  “Why is that?”

  Paris had the grace to wince. “Apparently, he is getting back together with his ex-wife. I didn’t know they still had a connection outside of their daughter. I thought I knew everything. My research is clearly flawed. By the time we get to the next people on the list, including your next date—if this thing doesn’t work out with Cross—then I will
have my research down better.”

  I just shook my head, holding back a laugh. “I don’t know. I feel like if I text or call him, it might ruin the bubble of what we shared. You know?”

  “Maybe. Or perhaps you’re missing an opportunity. I don’t think you’re ever going to know until you try,” Paris said honestly.

  She tucked her hair behind her ear before she added, “I’ll let you be. But just know that part of the pact is possibly pushing you in the right direction. You took that oath, too, you need to be a part of it.”

  “There wasn’t an oath.” I paused. “Was there?”

  Paris just smiled brightly.

  “Pushing me in this direction might not be the best idea,” I said honestly.

  “Or maybe it will be the best one ever. Either way, don’t give up hope. Maybe text him yourself.”

  I shook my head and said goodbye to Paris, not sure if I would reach out or not. I had more important things to worry about today.

  It didn’t matter that I kept thinking about Cross’s smile or the way his hands had felt on mine.

  I shook my head. I have work to do.

  I finished up another set of office hours and then did some work on my research until it was time to head home. I had a slight headache, mostly because while I loved numbers, they sometimes didn’t love me back. Plus, I had been stupid and hadn’t worn my reading glasses until about an hour into my day.

  I was still getting used to the fact that I had to wear reading glasses, even though I wasn’t reaching the age that my mother was when she got hers.

  I frowned, wondering why I’d even thought about that. It’d been a while since I’d thought about my parents. The fact that Cross had asked about them during our date had surprised me, though it really shouldn’t have. People always asked about families. They inquired about that, work, and friends. That was just how dating worked. Simply because I was out of practice didn’t mean I didn’t remember the rules.

  I made it home, pulled into my garage, and shut the big slider before I even opened the car door. I had my pepper spray in my hand as I slid out of the vehicle and made my way to the entrance to the house.

  I didn’t even realize I was doing it most days. It was just something that I was used to now.

  I couldn’t help it. When you went through what I did, sometimes, the way you moved, even around your own home, meant that you didn’t feel safe. Finding any way to create that feeling of safety was important.

  I checked the security on the house and then made sure that everything was locked before setting down my bag and going to pour myself a glass of wine. It had been a long day, and I was tired.

  Besides, a single glass of wine at night was good for your heart, right?

  The studies on that changed daily, but I was going with it.

  I had just taken my first sip when my phone buzzed. I frowned, looking at it.

  It was probably one of the girls, wanting to know more about Cross or telling me exactly what was going to happen next with our plan.

  I didn’t know if I wanted to go through that anymore. It already hadn’t turned out the way we expected, and I had a feeling that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

  When I looked down at the cell, I saw that it wasn’t one of the girls.

  My heart sped up, and my hands dampened. Oh.

  Oh.

  Cross: Hey there. Sorry it took me a while to text you. I’m really not good at this. I overthought it the whole damn time.

  Cross: I probably shouldn’t have said that.

  Cross: Or cursed.

  Cross: Sorry.

  My shoulders sagged, and I grinned. Honestly, he couldn’t have said anything better. He had said the perfect damn thing.

  Because I wasn’t good at this either.

  Me: I was thinking that I wasn’t very good at this either. So, hi.

  That was good, right? I didn’t want to overthink it. I tried my best to not overthink things during our one evening together. This would just have to be the same.

  Cross: I wasn’t even sure you would want to hear from me. Then my sister said if I didn’t text you, I would be an ass.

  Me: You talked to your sister about us?

  Us? Great, maybe I should rethink what I was saying. There wasn’t an us. And he had told his sister? What else had he said? Oh God, I didn’t think I could go through with this.

  Whatever this was.

  Cross: I tell her most things. Mostly because I need a sounding board, and she’s good at keeping things to herself.

  Well...if he could be honest, so could I.

  Me: I’ll be honest and say I told my friends, too.

  Cross: I wouldn’t have expected anything different. However, where does that put our date on your blind date plan?

  I laughed.

  Me: I think Paris has decided that this is going to be part of the plan. So, I’m sorry in advance if she somehow finds your contact information and forces you into another date with me.

  Cross: Who said anything about forcing?

  Me: Oh, really?

  Cross: I am texting you, after all. I was going to call, but that seemed a bit too forward in this day of technology.

  I laughed again.

  Me: You’re right. That is a bit forward.

  Cross: Also, got to be up with what the kids are doing. Right? Anyway, here I am.

  Cross: Texting. And I really fucking suck at it.

  Cross: And hell, there I go, cursing again. Sorry.

  Me: How fucking dare you?

  Cross: :)

  I snorted.

  Cross: Anyway, I didn’t know the rule of forty-eight hours or any other fucking shit that dating entails these days. And since we started on a different path than most people, I figured why not. So, hi.

  Me: Hi.

  Cross: Anyway, I’d love to take you out again.

  Tension slid through me, even as butterflies did a dance in my stomach.

  Me: I think that might be fun.

  Cross: Really?

  Me: Are you second-guessing already?

  Cross: I told you I was terrible at this. I want to take you out. However, I’m a bit busy right now. I figured you must be too since this is the start of the semester, if I remember school right.

  Me: You’re right. And I have a couple of faculty meetings and dinners over the next week.

  Cross: I guess that means we’ll have to keep this evil texting thing up until we have time to plan something.

  Me: That seems a bit scary.

  Cross: Tell me about it.

  I smiled and texted a few more times about nothing, but the sensation of something new and unknown slid through me. Almost as if this were the beginning of something. I didn’t want to think too hard about it or put too much into it, so I didn’t. Instead, I smiled and slid my phone back into my bag after I said goodbye.

  It wasn’t a complete commitment, but it was a start.

  He had texted, and he had more courage than I did, considering that I still wasn’t sure if I would have texted him.

  But he hadn’t run screaming after our meeting. And that counted.

  At least, I hoped it did.

  My phone buzzed again, and I pulled it out, a smile on my face. I wondered what Cross wanted now.

  When I looked down, the hairs on the back of my neck rose, and ice slid through my veins.

  It was a text from an unknown number, completely blocked, one that I wasn’t going to be able to find on my own.

  Unknown: I see you.

  That was it, that was the text. Bile slid up my throat, and as I clutched the phone in my hands, I turned towards the counter and threw up the rest of my wine and the salad from earlier, right into the sink.

  He couldn’t see me. This couldn’t be him. Only…maybe it was. Maybe he was here. He’d hit me before. He’d stalked me after. Had waited in my home when I was out and thought I was safe. He’d sent me letters during the trial. Had called and left messages telling me what he was
going to do to me.

  There were reasons I was so extreme in my home security. Why I was careful when I wasn’t at home.

  And, somehow, he was texting me.

  How.

  I wiped my face, turned on the water to clean up the mess, and then double-checked my locks.

  I had my pepper spray in one hand, my phone in the other, and went to the corner where I could see all angles. And then I prayed even while calling the detective who’d handled my case. I needed to know if Thomas was still in California. If I was safe.

  I needed to know it all, and yet I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t breathe.

  All ideas of what I could have with Cross were gone from my mind.

  I wasn’t the person I had once been.

  I couldn’t believe in paths and hope anymore.

  Because he was always watching.

  Waiting.

  I couldn’t run from that.

  Chapter 6

  Cross

  * * *

  I lowered my head and focused on the work in front of me, the bass from the speakers I had mounted to the wall thrumming in my ears. It let me concentrate, push out the rest of the world so I could work on what was in front of me, rather than what others needed from me.

  I slid my fingers over the wood and then used my sander with the other hand, working on one of the arches for the bottom grooves. I was getting down to the nitty-gritty, the design parts that were beyond the engineering, beyond function, only for the aesthetics. The parts that called to the uniqueness, sometimes in subtle ways. That was the part I liked.

  That was a lie.

  I liked both parts. I loved every single aspect of my job, even the taxes and the paperwork and dealing with clients.

  That was another lie, I didn’t like the taxes, but I didn’t mind doing them. Because that meant I had money in the bank and had to show the government that I was making something of myself.

  I shook my head and went back to my project. I would probably have this part finished today, and after a few more days, I could get back to the final nit-picky parts, the polish. And then the clients could pick up the table and chairs.

  It sounded like a lot of work, and probably more than some would want for a dining room set, but I’d fallen in love with woodworking when I was younger, and now it was a passion that had somehow become my career. The pieces I made weren’t for everyone, and many of the crafts I worked on weren’t high-end. The more highly detailed projects that took longer and went for a higher price supplemented some of my other smaller projects.