Chapter 35 (Landon)
“You're expelling me?” I have to take a seat because the room is suddenly spinning.
I had a bad feeling when Dean Crane called me into her office, but I shrugged it off. I figured it was because finals are in five days followed by winter recess and she wanted to talk to me about the upcoming spring semester.
She crosses her legs and purses her lips. “We have a strict no fraternizing policy between TAs and students, Landon. You know this.”
“I'm sorry,” I start, sitting up in my seat. “I didn't expect to—” I almost say Asher's name but stop myself in the nick of time, the worst thing I could do is incriminate myself.
“Become involved with a student by the name of Breslin Rae?”
When I don't answer her, she says, “You're the TA in Mrs. Rogers' Ethics class and she reported that you two were very close during last week's game.” She opens a file on her desk. “Apparently she's quite the football fan.”
Shit. “We started dating over the summer when she rented the apartment next to me. Her schedule was switched at the start of the semester and Mrs. Rogers' class was the only available class for her to take.”
“Well then, you should have informed Mrs. Rogers about the nature of your relationship.”
“You're right,” I agree. “But we had broken up when she went to Europe to study abroad. But we've grown close again over the last few weeks—” I look at her, because even though I should cover my own ass, I don't want to lie. “Look, I won't blow smoke up your ass. I fucked up. I should have told Mrs. Rogers and you about it. I've had a lot on my plate with my parents and—”
Her eyes grow soft. “I know you have. And I'm not expelling you.” She folds her arms across her chest. “I told Mrs. Rogers that unless she witnessed something more between you two and she could give me undisputable proof that it was impacting Breslin's Ethics grade, that there was no rule against a TA and a student sitting next to one another during a school football game.”
Thank you,” I whisper. “I'm sorry—”
“I actually called this meeting for another reason,” she says, cutting me off. “You have a grant to cover you for your music classes next semester but—”
“I need to find a way to pay my tuition for my education classes in order to graduate.”
She nods. “The deadline to apply for grants and student loans for the spring semester passed last month.”
My stomach rolls and I clutch the chair. I have some money saved and I know I could probably work out a payment plan with the school, but still...
“Landon, look at me.” When I do, she says, “You and I both know that while you're an amazing tutor and would make a great teacher, it's not where your heart is.”
My first instinct is to object, but I can't. “It's not,” I admit, feeling like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
“Can I give you some advice?”
When I nod, she says, “Don't spend your energy and your life doing what makes other people happy. It's your life, Landon...yours and yours alone. Live for you and pursue what you're passionate about, because life is too goddamn short. It's clear that music is your passion, not education. Chase it, follow it, and don't ever stop.”
The tiny hairs on my arms stand on end as I get up off the chair. “So, you're not expelling me, you're—”
“Being a good educator and encouraging you to follow your dreams...because it seems like no one ever has before.” She looks down at her file and I can't help but notice a check inside. “So, here's what's going to happen. You're going to finish up your classes this semester. You can still keep your job at the student center and tutor if you want. And considering you only need two more classes to fulfill your credits for your education degree next semester, I'll be signing off on a very special and very private grant—provided you agree to attend all your music classes and graduate.”
I stand up on legs that feel like rubber and shake her hand. “Of course. Thank you, Dean Crane.”
She signs a piece of paper and closes the file. “I'll see you in January, Landon.”
I pause right before I walk out. “I'm probably pressing my luck here, but I'm not going to be able to attend the first two days of classes. You see, I've agreed to go on tour with an indie rock band and—”
She pushes her glasses up her nose and sighs. “As long as you contact your professors and complete any make up assignments it shouldn't be a problem.”
My heart explodes and I swear I'm a second away from telling this woman I love her. Instead I just give her a big smile, tell her thank you again, and walk out, feeling happier than I've ever felt in my whole damn life. For the first time in what feels like forever, things are looking up and there are no dark clouds hanging over my head.
“Let me get this straight,” Breslin says, sticking another ornament on our poor excuse for a tree. “Dean Crane is basically paying for your education classes next semester but only if you fulfill the rest of your music requirements for graduation?”
“Yup,” I say, taking a sip of eggnog, still in disbelief.
“That's awesome,” Asher says between large bites of food and Breslin nods in agreement.
Given none of us have time next week and I'll be in England for Christmas, we decided to celebrate the holiday tonight.
Breslin's still glowing from the easel and shit-load of art supplies that were waiting by the tree for her—supplies that Asher insisted on chipping in for. And Asher's still on cloud nine and keeps staring at his super bowl tickets in awe—tickets that Breslin insisted on chipping in for as well.
But of course, in their typical weird as fuck fashion—neither of them thanked one another or even acknowledged it after I informed them that it wasn't all me and that they each helped pay for the other's gifts.
Breslin's back to keeping Asher at an arm's length— even though she's still agreeing to tutor him for the Ethics final. And Asher is back to being his charming self and insulting and arguing with Breslin whenever he gets the chance.
And me? I'm considering hiring a damn bodyguard for them so they don't murder each other while I'm gone.
“Should we show him?” Breslin asks...to the pitiful Christmas tree.
“I thought we agreed to wait until later?” Asher mumbles into his plate. I don't miss the bite in his tone, and judging by the way Breslin looks like she wants to rip his jugular out with her teeth and use it as one of the Christmas ornaments, she doesn't either.
“Show me what, guys?” I pipe up because this shit is bound to turn into an argument if I don't.
Breslin walks over to her purse and pulls out a card. “Asher and I got you something.”
They both look like they're holding their breath as I open it. And when I see what they did...what they got me—I'm the one who's breathless.
There's a picture of a black baby grand piano. Somehow, it's even more beautiful than the one I had and saved my ass off for in high school. My parents were pissed I spent all my savings on it, but I made sure it was non-refundable and there was no way they could take it back.
“You got me a piano,” I whisper in awe, looking between the both of them.
“We did some research and we were able to track down one that was exactly like the one you had,” Breslin says.
“Unfortunately,” Asher adds, lifting his fork. “They can't deliver it until after Christmas, but we'll both be here and set it up for you while you're gone.”
My mouth drops open. “This must have cost a fortune.”
Breslin reaches for a brownie on Asher's plate. “It wasn't so bad with the two of us splitting it.”
Asher snatches it from her right before she takes a bite and shoves it into his mouth instead. “We both had some money saved up. Plus, it's a second-hand,” he says through a mouthful of brownie.
Breslin reaches for another brownie but Asher yanks it away from her. “Say the magic word.”
She squints her eyes. “I made the brownies, you douche-baguette. You've eaten almost all of them.”
Asher says something in response but I don't hear a word of it because I'm still too floored by what they did for me.