Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 18713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 94(@200wpm)___ 75(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 94(@200wpm)___ 75(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
I knew everything that she’d said. And he knew I knew. And now I think he’s proctoring an exam on Friday morning, and I definitely want to feign illness.
Help.
T.
PS: Since we’re talking about meeting up . . . should we finally exchange names? Numbers?
Chapter Seventeen
FEBRUARY 14, 2024
Callum
Ido not think disbelief is the right word. I don’t even know what the right word is.
I read T’s email again, and then again, and I really think that no matter how badly I want to lie to myself right now, there is no universe in which we just happened to experience two sides of the exact same encounter in different places in the country.
T and Terra are both first-year graduate students.
T and Terra were both hiding in a closet earlier.
T and Terra both overheard her TA being propositioned, and I was propositioned, and I am a TA of a graduate class.
T is Terra.
Her name is Terra.
A class list crystallizes in my mind, and I mentally scan down toward the bottom.
Terra Solace.
t.sol.
I just met her, but she has no idea she’s just met me.
I set my phone down and sit at the edge of my couch cushion, back straight, eyes fixed on the wall of my living room, trying to remember every detail of her face.
Large dark eyes, full lips, small, pointed chin. I think she has freckles, but I’m not sure; all I can see now is the way she looked up at me in shock and mortification from the floor of the closet. Her hair is chin length, dark brown, straight, and smooth. She’s on the taller side, but thin, long limbed.
My weakness is tall women.
She played lacrosse. She was raised by a single mother. She has a younger brother.
And since I was sixteen, she’s been part of my life.
I’ve noticed her, of course, but only in the way heterosexual men notice all women who are generally off-limits: fleetingly, without lingering perusal. Because Terra has been off-limits: Still is off-limits. I wouldn’t ever date someone in a class I’m TA’ing. I’m not trying to sound like a moral douchebag; I was sleeping with a peer whose anger at me could have a direct impact on my doctoral research. But Kristen and I are on even footing. First-year grad students are in a uniquely vulnerable situation: they’re all stressed, overworked, fatigued, and hoping that they get picked to work in their first-choice lab after a year of grueling rotations.
But seeing Terra through new eyes . . . a piece of my life clicks into place. It’s a strange, solidifying feeling, and I don’t know how I’ll pretend to not know it’s her. I don’t want to.
I rub my knuckles over my sternum. My chest aches. I want to email right now and ask her where in Philly she lives, whether she’s close to the Penn campus, whether I can come over and meet her in person all over again.
She’s single. She wants to meet me. But, shit, it isn’t so easy anymore.
Because Terra is a student in a class for which I do a majority of the grading.
Terra overheard a private conversation I was having with an ex.
Terra thinks I’m intimidating.
(But she also thinks I’m hot.)
Terra wants to exchange names and phone numbers.
Fuck.
Chapter Eighteen
FEBRUARY 15, 2024
From: c.sun16@email.com
To: t.sol18@email.com
Date: February 15, 2024
Subject: Re: Happy Valentine’s Day!
Holy shit. You weren’t kidding. That’s an insane night.
It’s hilarious that you ended up in the closet and heard all of that. I’m sure he’s embarrassed as fuck. Hopefully he was nice about it and didn’t make you feel bad?
From: t.sol18@email.com
To: c.sun16@email.com
Date: February 15, 2024
Subject: Re: Happy Valentine’s Day!
He didn’t. I mean, he didn’t remember my name, and that was somewhat mortifying, since my group of friends calls him Our Lord and Savior because they all think he’s so hot, but I’m just a first-year. I don’t really expect him to know who I am. He seems like a decent guy. And if I’m being honest, I mostly feel bad for the woman. To have good sex and then lose it? The tragedy! (Not that I’d know.)
From: c.sun16@email.com
To: t.sol18@email.com
Date: February 15, 2024
Subject: Re: Happy Valentine’s Day!
Our Lord and Savior . . . I mean, there’s a nickname.
And what do you mean, “not that I’d know”?
From: t.sol18@email.com
To: c.sun16@email.com
Date: February 15, 2024
Subject: Re: Happy Valentine’s Day!
I really should not be emailing at 2 in the morning after I’ve had this much to drink. I’m saying so much here after being so appropriate in this email box for so long! But what can I say? I must be a conundrum wrapped in a mystery tied with a puzzle shoved in a pickle jar.
The nickname has a stupid story. Basically we all met him at a department party this fall and called him God until my friend Jamie admitted that, as a lapsed Catholic, the nickname made her vaguely uncomfortable and Elise doubled down and began calling him Our Lord and Savior. And then he became our TA and . . . yeah. Callum (that’s his name) is objectively attractive, but I am excited to see you this summer. If you’re on the same page, that is . . . I notice you didn’t give me your name and number, so I don’t want to cross that boundary until you’re ready.