Mister Romance by Amelia Simone (the reading list .txt) 📕

I felt more than a little pathetic, nursing a giant crush on my professor. I worked up my courage over the entire semester, and in her last office hour session I asked her if she’d get coffee with me after finals. She was calm and kind as she turned me down, explaining the non-fraternization policy between faculty and students. I was crushed.”

“Well, things obviously worked out. What changed?” I asked.

“When I turned in my final exam, I thanked her for a great semester and all of her help but let her know I wouldn’t be continuing as a student at the college. Two weeks after grades were posted and the semester finished, I had an email inviting me to coffee.” She smiled slyly. “Turns out, I wasn’t the only one struggling to focus on work during office hours.”

I laughed. “I still can’t believe you made it through a whole semester of programming. I’m impressed.”

Gina’s perseverance had paid off. Could Chase and I move beyond our awkward beginnings the same way? Maybe there was something to this life coach business. Her story filled my chest with a lightness I wanted to call hope.

She smiled in return. “The things we do for love, right? The moral of the story?”

“Don’t try to date your teachers?” I asked with a grin.

She admonished me gently, “Sometimes you have to step outside your comfort zone to make new connections. Relationships don’t develop overnight, so give it time.”

I WASHED AND DIFFUSED my curls before my dinner with Chase, applying oil liberally until they were shiny and controlled. A dress for dinner at home would be a bit much, so I’d settled on jeans and a tank top. My most difficult choice was my underwear selection. There was a hundred percent chance we’d be talking about them, even if he didn’t see them.

Chase was supposed to arrive with ingredients to cook by six. My hormones were buzzing at thirst level ten by five thirty, totally at odds with my head. Down, girl. He had to prove he could listen and respect my needs first.

Needs. My heart beat a bit faster, thinking about what we could do with a private kitchen. Dinner, not dessert, I admonished myself. Just because I was willing to give him another chance didn’t mean he was going to earn it. However, my girly bits were still frustrated from the previous week, and I could envision them giving me sad puppy eyes, begging for more attention.

I glanced at the clock on my Kindle every few minutes as it got closer and closer to six. I didn’t expect him to arrive early; unless aliens overtook his body, he’d be late. I was banking on at least ten minutes, so I tried not to stress as 6:05 rolled around with no sign of Chase. I got up to stretch and wander past my front window at 6:10, but the lot outside was silent.

I settled back to read and wait, trying not to glance at the clock every few minutes. It became a game—one I was losing. I got up to check my phone, but there were no messages. I settled back with my Kindle, and when my stomach growled, I looked up to see that it was 6:30. No word from Chase. Worst case scenarios flashed, and images of his bent and broken body behind the wheel of his wrecked car filled my mind. Had he gotten in an accident? No one would know to notify me. The image of him hurt haunted me, and I couldn’t hold back any longer.

Tamra: Are you on your way? Hope everything is okay.

Crickets. No response. No indication that he was typing on the other end. My stomach growled again, so I moved to the kitchen to make myself a snack. I refused to believe he was hurt. Maybe he got tied up. Without notifying you? I shushed the skeptical voice in my head. Maybe he forgot. Maybe he forgot all about you. My inner monologue was a bitch. She sounded too much like my oldest sister. Still, that voice haunted me with the memories of every other time I’d been forgotten.

My forgettability had actually been a running joke in my family. My middle school choir director had my parents on speed dial, they forgot me so often. They’d grown too used to relying on Jennifer to drive me, and I wasn’t as assertive as my siblings when it came to asking for rides with friends.

That old, icky feeling crept under my skin. Disappointment. Was I that forgettable? I pushed the thought aside one more time. Not Chase. He got me. He wouldn’t stand me up this way. Not when he was supposed to be apologizing.

I poured myself a glass of iced tea and cut some cheese to eat with crackers, then settled back on the couch to read. Still no response from Chase. By seven o’clock I was getting worried, and I tried to call. The phone rang and went to his voicemail, and I left a brief message.

“Chase, it’s me. Hope everything’s okay. Call me.”

I debated if it was stalkerish to drive over to his place and make sure he was okay but decided to wait longer.

I gave up on dinner and nibbled on some more cheese and crackers. Watching TV was pointless when I couldn’t stay focused on anything and ended up aimlessly flipping channels. He’d forgotten. Or worse, he’d chosen not to come. Without telling me. Was that worse? Or was being forgotten worse? Really, both sucked equally. I wouldn’t beg for his attention. If he didn’t want me, I was better off alone.

The later it got, the angrier I grew, but I had no outlet for my ire. I debated calling Vicki or Gina to vent, but I still had vague hopes that Chase would have a good explanation.

Good explanation, my ass.

At this rate, only hospitalization was getting him off the hook. I focused on the anger, because it felt good, it felt cleansing.