Ah, college. Such an necessity, but such an expense. But through the whole struggle and madness, dealing with this weird place they like to call college, it's always best to walk hand in hand with a close friend or two.
They say you find your true...
Hesitant. Very hesitant, but curious—all in unison. With her Addias flip flops flopping, against the pavement, Denise kept an open mind. She held her phone in her right hand, and her book bag hung loosely on her left shoulder. She made sure to appear not put together.
A plain black hoodie and gray sweatpants, with mix match socks and flip flops—so not a look... She thought to herself.
What does one wear when meeting up with their professor, after hours, at a coffee shop... Time almost ticking towards curfew?
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"Good evening..." Denise dragged out, as she spotted professor McHenry upon her entering the shop.
He looked up from his laptop and smiled, a warm smile. Denise shuffled her feet over towards the table, and sat across from him.
She glanced at her phone, and unlocked it quickly. She maneuvered her thumbs to open the group message thread. She sent her friends her location and told Gina she'd be returning to the dorm a little late.
"So, what do you need?" Professor McHenry asked, pushing his laptop aside so he could look at her fully.
"You invited me to meet you?" Denise narrowed her eyes, at him.
"No." He snickered. "I said, we could meet up... If there's anything you needed to discuss."
"Right..."
"So what do we need to discuss?" He held his hands together, waiting for Denise to speak.
She felt a little embarrassed, because she didn't really need to discuss anything. She thought he was inviting her to discuss something. Not that this was suppose to be a meet up, hang out and chilltype of thing.
That would be unprofessional.
It's the simple fact that she misread that email. Or, maybe she didn't. Why meet up for coffee to discuss something that could be discussed in class?
Denise starts to feel a weird tingly feeling. What even made her comfortable enough to meet up with this... This man for coffee?
She tapped her nails against the wooden table, and eased her breathing.
"Well..." She dragged out, as she unlocked her phone. She clicked her google docs app, and then found her essay. In her opinion, it's perfect—literally nothing to fix. But what would she tell professor McHenry?
She feels as though, she came here for nothing. A normal person would leave once they figured out they misread or didn't really need help with anything, but her anxiety just won't let her.
