Natalie
I arrive at Dr. Miller’s class with a few minutes to spare. On the way over, I was bombarded with more people calling out my name and waving. After a while, I just waved back. A few even stopped and told me how much they love my boyfriend.
My boyfriend…
What am I supposed to say to that?
Ummm, thank you?
This episode has thrown off my entire morning. I’m a fidgety mess as I wait for Brody to make his grand entrance. I’m in the middle of taking my agitation out on my gnawed-to-the-pulp thumbnail when Kimmie Sanders walks in.
I do a double take.
Well…I think it’s Kimmie.
Even though it’s a ten a.m. class, and most of us usually look like we’ve just rolled out of bed and sprinted across campus like we’re contestants on The Amazing Race, Kimmie usually sweeps into the room wearing full makeup with her hair perfectly styled. She favors tops that reveal way too much cleavage and skirts that barely cover her butt cheeks.
That’s not the case this morning.
I can’t help but stare. I don’t think she’s wearing a drop of makeup and her hair has been thrown up in a messy bun. Her outfit consists of leggings and a boxy sweatshirt. Not even a cute midriff-baring top.
Is that…a stain on her chest?
In the three years I’ve known Kimmie, I’ve never seen her dressed like this.
Since she’s a finance major like me, I usually end up having at least one class with her a semester. That being said, we’re more acquaintances than friends. Kimmie is all about the Delta Zetas, and I have zero interest in Greek life. But still, this departure from the norm has me concerned.
When she plops down at the desk behind me, I turn in my seat. “Kimmie? Are you okay?”
Maybe she’s not feeling well. Although I’m not sure why she would bother showing up if that were the case. All she does is yap at Brody during class. Academics have never been her top priority.
As soon as her baby blues focus on me, her entire body deflates and tears fill her wide eyes.
Jeez.
Whatever is going on is much worse than I originally suspected.
“What’s wrong?” I ask gently. I’m always willing to help a sister out. Pussy power and all that, right? “You seem upset.”
She blinks. Her normally pretty face takes on a pinched quality as she glares at me.
“What’s wrong?” Her voice rises with each syllable. A few students swivel on their chairs to see what’s going on. “How can you ask me something like that?”
“What?” My spine stiffens in confusion. Clearly, I should have kept my big mouth shut.
Lesson learned.
Today has been weird enough without adding a Kimmie Sanders meltdown to the list. But it’s too late to backtrack. I see the impending storm brewing in her eyes. Any moment it’s going to rain down on me.
An innocent bystander.
A concerned acquaintance.
Kimmie leans toward me. Her hands have balled into fists on the desk. If she tries to crawl over it, I’m out of here.
“I really can’t believe you, Natalie!” she snaps, her voice shaking with unspent emotion.
My eyes widen, and my hand flies to my chest in shock. “Me? What did I do?”
I think this chick has lost her mind. Maybe she’s inhaled too many hairspray fumes. I’m no psych major, but this isn’t normal behavior. Not even for Kimmie Sanders.
Her eyes narrow. If looks could kill, I’d be a pile of ash. “I’ll tell you what you did! You stole the man I love right out from beneath my nose!” She wails the last part, and I cringe as more classmates turn in their seats, craning their necks to stare at the unnecessary drama she’s creating. “How could you?”
The accusation has my jaw falling open and hitting the desk.
Stole the man she loves?
What is she talking about?
Before I’m able to wrap my brain around words and even try to sort out this mess, she continues. “I thought we were friends! Well, not anymore! Friends don’t steal each other’s men.”
Oh my God, she’s totally delusional. That’s the only rational explanation for her unhinged behavior. I’ve heard about young adults in college having nervous breakdowns. I’ve just never witnessed it for myself. Poor Kimmie. I hope she finds the necessary help she needs to get better.
“Kimmie,” I say carefully. “We’ve never been friends.” Why would she think that? I can’t think of one time she’s even acknowledged me outside of class.
She folds her arms over her ample chest. “Well, we certainly aren’t anymore!”
I’m afraid of what she’ll do if I try rationalizing with her. It might make the situation worse. And I don’t need that. Not on top of everything else going on this morning. Maybe I should just play along. “Who exactly did I steal from you again?”
Two fat, crystal-looking tears trek down her pale cheeks. “You know exactly who you stole, you conniving little bitch!”
More people have trickled into the room and are staring at the spectacle she’s making of herself. I just want to melt into the floor. Is it too late to transfer to a different section this semester? I’m sure Dr. Miller would be sympathetic to my plight.
I keep my voice pitched low. “I really don’t. Why don’t you just tell me.”
“Brody!” she wails. “He’s the love of my life.”
Son of a monkey!
I should have known.
Dr. Miller enters the room and shuffles through a few papers at the lectern. More people fill up the seats until all of the desks surrounding me have been taken.
Thankful that class is about to start, I say, “Look, Kimmie, there’s been a misunderstanding. Can we discuss this after class?” I glance around, meeting a sea of curious stares. “Alone?”
Hope kindles in her tear-filled baby blues and her bottom lip trembles pathetically. “A mistake?” she repeats in a hopeful tone.
“Yes.” I smile in relief as her anger magically melts away. “A huge mistake. I’ll explain everything after class, okay? You have nothing to worry about in regards to Brody, trust me.”
Her lips curve as she nods. “Yeah.”
Turning toward the front of the room, I rub my temples in aggravation. A headache is brewing behind my eyes. It’s only ten in the morning and already I’d like to wrap my hands around Brody’s neck and strangle the life out of him.
Damn it. This is all his fault.
If he’d just kept his big mouth shut on Saturday night, none of this would be happening.
Brody saunters in as Dr. Miller launches into a lesson about nonprofit enterprises. He stops, his eyes scanning the small lecture hall. I slump in my seat, somehow knowing that he’s searching for me. I need time to cool off before I talk with him. I flick my eyes toward him, hoping he’s found a place to sit. He hasn’t. The moment our gazes connect, he makes his way toward me. Unfortunately for him, all of the seats have been taken.
But that, apparently, isn’t going to stop him. My brows draw together as he slips into the row I’m parked in.
What’s he planning to do?
Sit on my lap?
When he gets to the occupied desk next to mine, he doesn’t say a word. Just slants an eyebrow. The guy pales and scrambles to gather up his computer and backpack before hustling away.
For the umpteenth time this morning, my jaw drops. Looking relaxed, Brody slides into the desk next to me. Once he’s taken out his computer, his eyes flick to mine as one side of his mouth hitches.
“Hey, babe,” he says. “Thanks for saving me a seat.”
I do the only thing I can.
I growl in frustration.