READY FOR LOVE | JENLISA

Chapter 47

Lisa

On Friday morning, as I walk down the hall of the science building after my biology class. I pass the room in which Jennie teaches Mrs. Lee's lab in and instinctively look inside, stopping in my tracks when I spot her. The classroom is empty as she sits on top of the front lab bench cross-legged, consumed in the binder resting on her lap as she munches on a granola bar. She must have just finished teaching her class, even though I told her that she should stay home for another day to rest. But a part of me knew that she wouldn't listen.

Thankfully, she followed the doctor's orders yesterday and stayed home. Rosé and I made sure of it with 'Mission: Make Sure Jennie Doesn't Dare Step Foot On This Campus'. We made a pact that if either of us saw her in any of her classes yesterday, we'd both send her ass right back home to rest.

Frowning, I walk into the classroom and she looks up at me from her binder, giving me a half smile, half a grimace. She knows my stance on her coming to classes today.

"I thought you were skipping teaching today?" I say, coming to stand in front of her. I rest my hands on the counter on each side of her, bracketing her legs.

"I was going to, but the other TA said she couldn't fill in for me today. I couldn't just leave the class hanging this close to finals." she explains.

"So what I'm hearing are excuses." I say, with a teasing tone to my voice. "Did you talk to Mrs. Lee about it?"

"No, I didn't want to bother her." she says lamely and shyly refusing to meet my gaze, because she knows that it's a lame excuse and I'm not going to let her off so easily.

"Finch." I groan, exasperated. I gently grab her chin, making her tilt her head up to look at me. I examine her face, her soft features livelier than they were the other day. The bags under her eyes have noticeably reduced and she has more colour to her complexion, but I can tell that she's still not one hundred percent. Looking at her, getting lost in her eyes, I almost forget what I'm mad at her for. Almost.

"You have to take care of yourself." I remind her. "I'm sure Mrs. Lee could have scrounged up another TA to teach in your place."

"But..."

"No buts." I cut her off.

I hear a slight crinkling noise and look down to spot the granola bar in her hand. I pluck it from her grasp, finding the generic honey and oats bar only half eaten.

"What's this?" I ask, flashing her the wrapper.

"Uh, breakfast?" she says, confused.

I lean to my left and spot the trashcan on the floor at the end of the lab bench and toss the granola bar inside.

"Hey." Jennie whines, a cute little pout forming on her face.

"Come on, Finch." I say, leaning over to grab her backpack. "You need a real breakfast, not that junk." I grab the binder in her lap and pack it away inside her powder blue bag, zipping it up. Despite her protests, I pick her up off the counter, setting her on her feet, before grabbing her hand and leading her to the truck.

"Thank you, Lisa." I tease, melodramatically mimicking a high pitched female voice before stuffing my mouth with a bite of pancakes. Jennie purses her lips together, trying her best not to laugh. She picks up a grape from her fruit bowl, throwing it at me from across the table. I manage to catch the tiny fruit deftly, popping it into my mouth as soon as I catch it. Jennie's jaw drops in amused astonishment. "You're unbelievable." she mutters under her breath, shaking her head.

"Thank you." I smirk, causing her to roll her eyes.

Currently, we're sitting at Patricia's Pancake House, a small local favourite amongst the college crowd. Especially when you're hungover. Not that I would know anything about that... nope. Not at all.

Patricia's Pancake House is about a five minute drive from campus and actually has really good food. Better than anything served on campus, anyway. Hence that's why I brought Jennie here, instead.

"Are you sure you don't want anything else?" I ask, pointing with my fork at her measly waffle, fruit cup, and yogurt.

She giggles, shaking her head. "I'm good. I'm not a massive football player." she teases, eyeing my full plate of pancakes, bacon, sausage, ham, eggs and toast.

I place a hand to my chest in mock offense. "Are you calling me fat? At least I don't eat like a bird, Finch." I joke.

She scowls at me, snatching a strip of bacon from my plate, munching on it. "Excuse me for watching my cholesterol levels."

I laugh. "Like you need to. Hey, when's your next class?"

Subconsciously, she looks at her watch, frowning. "Eleven."

"What class is it?"

She swallows her last bite of bacon, looking anything but enthusiastic. "Art appreciation."

"You're skipping, right?" I ask.

"No, why would I?" she asks, serious.

"You can't be serious. It's an elective that you can totally afford to skip. I took it three semesters ago and all the professor did was drone on and on about art pieces. I maybe showed up to class ten times in total throughout the whole semester and I still passed. The final is an essay, writing about a piece you've gone over throughout the semester and bullshitting what it's about and what it's supposed to represent. I passed the class. Me, Finch. If I can pass it, you sure as hell can."

"You sure endorse skipping, don't you?" She smirks.

"Come take a nap with me instead."

She blinks, surprised. "What?"

"Skip the class and come take a nap with me." I repeat, hoping she'll say yes.

"I don't know." she trails off, hesitant.

"Come on, we can take an hour nap, grab a quick lunch, and both make it to our one o'clock classes. Then I'll meet back up with you for English." I say, trying my best to persuade her. "Please?" I give her my best puppy dog eyes, turning on the charm full throttle.

She worries her bottom lip, contemplating.

"You know the doctor filled out that excuse slip for two days, right?" I say, trying to sway her. "So if you're really feeling that guilty about skipping class, you can email the professor that you have an excuse. Not that he's going to care, anyway. No offense."

She lets out a sigh, seemingly coming to a conclusion. "Fine."