how to catch feelings

60

I tried not to make a habit of going to Starbucks twice a week, but when you have declining balance and an invitation, there's really no saying no.

So I placed my order on the campus food app again, then walked the twenty feet down the hallway to Starbucks.

Cole was sitting at a table along the far wall, so I abandoned the line to meet him.

"How was your class?" he asked.

"Hella boring, as usual. Yours?"

He shrugged. "Not great, not awful."

"Disgustingly average."

"Yup."

The barista called out a name and we both glanced over at the counter.

Not mine yet.

"Assuming you have time... Talk here? Or the library? Or somewhere else?"

I looked around. Starbucks was always super busy this time of day. "Probably anywhere but here."

"Right. Maybe there's a study room open in the library."

I doubted it, since those things were about as hard to get as a kiss from a unicorn, but I was up for a walk.

As soon as my drink was finished, we continued down the hall to the library.

All the study rooms on the first floor were taken, so we went up to the next floor.

"Need help with your writing?" Cole asked. "I've heard many things about the Writing Center."

I scoffed. "Things like they suck?"

He laughed. "Worse."

"Do tell."

"Maybe when they're out of earshot."

The few study rooms on the second floor were also filled.

To the third floor.

I didn't have much hope, but surprisingly enough we found an open room in the back corner. The best one, naturally.

"Well, would you look at that."

"Color me impressed." I set my backpack down on one of the chairs and then pulled out my class stuff to put on the table. Had to at least give the impression of using the room to study, right?

Cole followed suit.

"So what's this dirt you have on the Writing Center?"

He waved dismissively. "I'm sure you've heard it already."

"Tell meeee."

"Okay, okay. Do you have a whiteboard marker?"

I stared at him for a moment and then decided he was serious. "I dunno, let me look." I dug through my backpack and came up with a dry erase marker. "If it's dried out, you out of luck, pal."

He accepted the marker and quickly turned to the board that consumed most of the wall. "So, imagine this. You're looking for a nice, cushy job." He drew a stick figure. "You know, one of those on-campus positions where you can do your homework during your shift."

"Sure. One of those."

"You go on the career page. You find the Tutoring Center. Well, guess what, you suck at every subject, but especially math and science and bio. All the big ones people want help with." He wrote the subjects on the board, then put an X through each of them. "But then. Then you find a posting from the Writing Center."

"Oh boy."

"Oh boy is right." He drew an exclamation mark. "You also suck at writing. Well, not you, of course. But the you of the story."

"Sure."

"Anyway. You suck at writing. You don't know the first thing about grammar. And what's a comma splice? But you know some people. Yes. You know some of the writing tutors, and you know the director." He added a few more stick figures. "Bam. A little schmoozing later, and you find yourself an employee of the Writing Center. But that's not the end of the story."

"Oh no."

"No sir, no ma'am. We're just getting started. You see all these people come in, looking for help with their essays and crap. And you can't help them. You're underqualified, and, frankly, probably even more stupid than the person seeking your help."

"Yikes. Bad run-in with the Writing Center?"

"Not personally."

"Awfully detailed story."

He shrugged again. "Common experience."

"Alright. Sure."

"I've also heard about some shady incidents that were borderline cheating, offenses that could warrant expulsion, but you know, grape vine don't always know what's up."

"Right."

He drew a blob on the board.

"What's that?"

"A grape."

"Oh. Sure."

He added another one. "See it yet?"

"No, not really."

He drew a third grape, then gave them a little stem. "Now?"

"Sure."

"That sounded like a 'no, you're stupid,' but I'm going to ignore it."

"Okay. Good plan."

He capped the marker and sat down. "You had a story."

"Did I?"

"Wrong word. An update."

"Oh. I suppose." I gave him a run-down of my talk with Marcus and a quick refresher of the three FOIAs I was waiting on. "They should be emailing me again on Friday, but I'm sure they're gonna opt to take another ten days. They usually do."

"Lame."

"For sure."

"Also, fuck Harding. He's a real ass."

"So I've discovered."

"Sorry about that."

"Meh. Nothing you can do about it."

"I guess." He pulled out his math textbook and gave it a dirty look. "Oh, how I hate math."

"Amen."

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