𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 [18+]

- 9 -

The professor was ranting.

The lecture was supposed to end fifteen minutes ago. Everyone in the class was groaning as he continued to display things on the projector, read things out and add to our never-ending list of assignments due. To anyone who thinks a psychology major is easy - change your mind right now, before you're in too deep.

Ford's name was beeping up my phone left and right. He was worried, probably thinking I got kidnapped in the middle of nowhere with my recklessness. Yeah well, that sounds better than listening to a two-hour Introduction To Cognitive Psychology monologue.

I quickly texted him back I'll be out in another ten minutes by then my professor will hopefully take mercy on all of us before Ford goes straight to my parents complaining like a five-year-old with his grumpy frown.

"And that's it for today's class and make sure to submit your work by the deadline. I will not accept any work after that." Mr Montgomery concludes and half of the class is already out the door. The slamming of books and laptops and the shoving of chairs is heard as students take their leave.

It's almost hilarious. I would take my time and enjoy the misery but I have to dash down before my driver starts nagging.

Quickly shoving my things into my bag, I rush down the hallway and push on the huge glass doors of my university - and there he is. Ford is pacing around, in front of the Range Rover parked. I hold back my grin before I move towards him.

"I'm suing that professor the next time I see him."

The lines on his forehead are visible as his eyebrows are pinched together. He's in his usual pressed-down grey suit.

"Oh, it's just fifteen minutes - chill, uncle." I chuckle, getting in the passenger seat as he starts the engine.

"If I don't sue that motherfucker soon, your dear father will sue me, kid."

Ford continues to mumble as he drives out of the campus. There's nothing more entertaining than listening to a 56-year-old man sass.

"Papa loves you too much to do that."

He rolls his eyes.

A shit-eating grin on my face.

We delve deeper into conversations as the car fills with our laughter and amusement - like every day when he picks me up after class. This was my usual routine.

There's silence in the car as Ford focuses on the road and I peacefully slip into my thoughts. The car hums steadily passing by building after building. Sunlight streams through the windows, casting warm patterns on the dashboard.

Will I ever see him again?

I immediately squeezed my eyes shut, holding back a whine.

It's been a week since that text he sent me on Instagram - to which I had left him on read. I hated being desperate. Hell, I didn't even know him.