exposed [h.s.] ❁ sequel

8. Opportunities

"Remember that your project proposals
are due by eleven Sunday night,"
Dr. Richter announces, clapping his
hands together to dismiss the class.
"And I know what Wikipedia sentences
sound like. I'm looking at you, Mr. Dawson."

I fumble with my bag as everyone moves
around me, cramming my notebooks inside
and hiding my phone between them.
I haven't glanced at it since I was lectured.
The truth is, I'm terrified to see who it is.

If it's him, I wouldn't know what to say,
even though I've had this conversation
in my head millions of times within
the past year. I don't think I could get
a single coherent sentence out.
I don't think I could handle hearing
his voice. Would I recognize it?

And if it isn't him? I'll know he's over me.
That he's purposely ignoring me. Erasing me.
That maybe he saw my number come up
and deleted the voicemail without listening.
Because maybe he knew what I would say
and he didn't want to hear it again and again.

I attempt to make a break for the door
without Dr. Richter noticing, but he's had
his eyes locked on me the entire hour.

"Leaving so soon, Adams? I was looking
forward to having a little chat with you,"
he chuckles, and I turn around to face him.

"Listen," I begin nervously. "I was waiting
for an important call and I'm sorry for being
distracted. Distant." Delusional.

He raises a hand to stop my rambling,
taking a seat behind his desk. He ushers
me to move closer, and I reluctantly oblige.
"I didn't appreciate losing your attention,
but that's not what I wanted to talk about."

I glance up at the clock hanging above
our heads. He can sense my impatience.
My fingers ache to grab my phone with
every tick of the clock's second hand.

"There's a TA opportunity with your
name on it, if you want," he continues.
"I'd need help with creating lesson plans
and grading, mostly. It is for my lower
level psych kids. Lord knows they need
the assistance. What do you think?"

I adjust the strap of my bag against
my shoulder. "Why me?"

He snorts obnoxiously, "I have a
good feeling about you. Call it a hunch."

Since I moved to Chicago,
I've had many side jobs here and there.
None were permanent, and
none were passionate.
For a few months, I delivered food
for an app, and other months
I was unemployed.
I tried nannying, but my motherly instincts
just weren't there.
It was embarrassing at first to ask
my parents for more money
after they already pay for my living arrangements,
but I couldn't deny the fact I needed help.
Most days I lack the motivation to get
out of bed, let alone go to a job.

"Does it pay?" I ask.

He frowns, meeting my eyes.
His are blue, with flecks of green.
His trimmed beard has spots of
gray mingled throughout the brown.
Probably only in his early forties.
"You drive a hard bargain?"

"I just need something to live off of."

He nods for a moment, searching
for something on his desk, which is
scattered with unorganized papers.
He hands me a tattered notebook
with various colored sticky-notes poking out.
"We'll discuss a wage next meeting.
For now, look through my past lesson plans
to get an idea of how this works.
Do we have a deal, Miss Adams?"

He reaches his hand out to me, and
I catch a glimpse of his golden ring.
I don't know the first thing about being
a teaching assistant, but a job is a job.
Our hands connect and his grip tightens.

"Sawyer," I clarify.

He smiles. "Josiah."

My hand lingers a little too long,
and he is the one to pull away.
I feign a friendly smile in return
before leaving his classroom.

My pace quickens as I walk across
campus to the parking lot.
Blueish clouds line the sky above
as rain begins to fall on the pavement.
I reach my car as it pours harder,
escaping the spring shower.
My bag begins to vibrate in the passenger seat and I scramble through notebooks,
loose papers, and books to find my phone.

The light from the screen illuminates
the bag's interior fabric, and I don't look before placing the receiver to my ear.
"Hello? This is Sawyer."

"It's Harry."

.....

Well, it's been a while, hasn't it?

I was away for two years. I was busy being in love. It was amazing until it wasn't, but that's over now. I lost my passion for writing in that time and stopped the hobbies that I loved. I'm hoping I find it again.

I'm also back in my One Direction phase (but I never really left it). Writing and One Direction are the only things bringing me happiness at the moment, so let's do this thing.

I hope you're well.

-H