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Eighteen
Eliza
I walkout of class and run right into Grant.
He holds out yet another cup of coffee and I heave a thick sigh as I take it from him. “He better be paying you to deliver these things.”
“He is.” Grant reaches for my cup and spins it around to show me the name written on the side.
Buzz buzz.
I reach into my bag and my fingers wrap around my phone as the text message vibrates it.
Library. Second floor. Study room B. Now.
“Think you’ll actually go this time?” Grant asks, taking a sip from his own cup.
I inhale the strong scent of black coffee. This is the fifth cup in the last two days Grant has hand-delivered to me after class — all courtesy of Junior Morgan. “I’ll think about it.”
“Or you can keep it up,” he chuckles. “Three more trips to the coffee cart and I’ll be able to afford that blazer I saw at the mall last week.”
I give a short laugh. “In that case, I might wait it out.”
“In all seriousness, though… Cut the guy some slack.”
“Why?”
“Because he didn’t do anything wrong.”
I stare at him. “He asked you to lie for him, Grant.”
“He asked me not to mention it to you and that populates the gray area between truth and lies, in my opinion.”
“Hey, the guy can do what he wants,” I argue. “It’s not like we’re dating or anything.”
Grant chuckles. “Okay… let’s try that one again. This time, with feeling.”
“Shut up.” I step down the hall but Grant stays close.
“I’m just saying, maybe you should re-evaluate that last part,” he says. “Drunk hotties were throwing themselves at him the whole time and he politely declined them all faster than that uptight, retail hag and my credit card.”
“I will happily buy you that blazer myself, Grant,” I laugh. “You can stop hinting at it.”
“Yay! Friendship!” He holds up his hand and I give him a high-five. “Look… Go talk to him, okay? Either put him down gently or make up. I don’t like seeing you so miserable.”
“I’m not miserable.”
“Eliza…”
He stares at me and I can’t argue with it. It hasn’t even been two whole days and I already miss Junior freakin’ Morgan.
“He declined them, huh?” I ask.
Grant nods. “Let him explain what happened in his own words. If you don’t like it, then we’ll sit across the quad and throw shade at him from now until the end of the semester. It’ll be fun.”
I try not to laugh but that’s always impossible when Grant shows his sassy side. “Fine. I’ll go talk to him.”
“Thank you,”he says. “You just earned me another twenty bucks.”
