Ambivalently Yours

Realizations

"So how hungover were you yesterday?" Rafe asks as he takes the seat behind you in class Monday afternoon.

"I drank three buckets of liquor, what do you think?" you reply.

He laughs. "You're right. Dumb question."

"Thanks, by the way," you say. "I think I forgot to say that the other night."

He gives you a questioning look. "For what?"

Your face falls a little at the thought that he doesn't remember. "That guy that was trying to get me to go home with him?"

"Oh, that? You don't have to thank me for that. Any decent person would've intervened," he says.

"Yeah, maybe, but thank you."

He gives you a small smile. "You're welcome."

"I also need to apologize, too."

"What do you have to apologize for?" he asks.

"I straight up went to sleep on you on the ride home. Embarrassing," you say, your cheeks heating at the memory.

He shakes his head. "It was cute."

Apparently he's just not going to let the heat in your cheeks dissipate. The thought of him thinking you were cute was making you blush harder. "It was awkward," you say, covering your face with your hands.

He grabs your wrists and gently pries your hands from your face. "Stop being embarrassed. It wasn't even a full ten minutes, and I barely noticed," he lies. It was actually seven minutes, and, truth be told, he was disappointed when the Uber pulled up to drop you all off at your apartment complex. The drunk, sleepy, sweet little 'bye Rafe' you had whispered to him after he helped you out of the car had played on loop in his head the rest of the weekend.

You sigh. "Well, you don't have to worry about it happening again. I'll be more coherent next time."

"Next time?" he asks.

"You know what I mean."

The professor chooses that moment to come in and start class, so you don't speak to Rafe again until it's over. As it's now become the routine, the two of you walk together back to the parking garage to meet Liz and Kelce at the end of your day.

"So I was thinking, tomorrow when we meet to work on our paper, we actually start the paper," he says.

"Um, what do you think we've been doing this whole time?" you ask.

"No, I meant like, actually start the word doc. We've just been compiling research and comparing notes so far."

"We only have like eight sources so far. I want at least ten," you tell him.

"There's no minimum on how many sources you need," he replies. "Eight is plenty."

"I like to thoroughly research the topics I write about," you say. "I want ten."

"Okay, so find two more. That doesn't mean we can't start the paper."

"Is that how you do research projects? You just find some random sources and go?" you ask.

"Isn't that how everyone does it?"

"No," you answer. "That's how unorganized, mediocre writers do it."

"Are you saying I'm mediocre?" he asks.

"Leaning towards yes," you respond.

"Wow. Okay, and your grade in McCuskey is...?"

"I have an A, obviously," you say, turning up your nose.