Page 34 of The Stalker Snafu

“When I said study partner, I meant more like a guy I ran into at the coffee cart,” I corrected hastily, cringing further down in the leather seat. “And now we sometimes study near each other on the quad. That’s all.”

My mother was not amused. “You’re an aspiring composer, Emmaline. You don’t have time for boys or study dates.”

“It’s not like that. You know I’m not dating anyone,” I hissed into the phone, fighting to keep my voice down. “I am focusing on piano. That’s why I came all the way out here, isn’t it?”

I crossed two fingers in my lap for the pair of lies; I couldn’t give my mother a single reason to doubt college was the absolute best place for me right now.

“… So, he’s a study partner who drives you around and drops you off at your dorm?” She sounded wary, which was never good.

I tried to ignore the dread settling in my gut, but my butt still clenched as I turned back to the windshield. “Um, yes. But only today. We needed to visit a museum for class, and I don’t have a license, so he offered to drive.”

More lies. So many lies. My tongue felt like sandpaper against the roof of my mouth.

Noah’s side of the car was conveniently quiet as I focused on keeping my breathing steady. I was grateful he seemed to grasp how important this was.

The silence from my mother’s end stretched, and my grip tightened on the car seat until she finally let out a sigh. “I wasn’t born yesterday, Emmaline. No more study partners or driving around with boys. Understood?”

The hard edge in her tone made me gulp.

“Understood,” I whispered.

“That cart is another problem we need to discuss,” she continued. “How much coffee are you drinking? Doctor Stevens said your intake is more than a little concerning⁠—”

“I’m not drinking too much coffee!”

“What do your weekly caffeine charts say?”

I winced, turning back toward the passenger window and lowering my voice. “I stopped keeping charts ages ago. It’s not necessary.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Emmaline,” she said crossly. “Is it so wrong for me to want to make sure your father and I are getting our money’s worth for this little adventure?”

“It is when I’m here on scholarship.”

“A scholarship we got for you,” she reminded me.

As if they’d ever let me forget it.

“Back to your studies,” she continued without waiting for a response. “If you can’t get me a meeting with Atticus, then I’ll just keep trying myself. Once he understands the opportunities this concert in Chicago could bring, he wouldn’t dare hinder your chances by holding you to your mock performance, which can easily be rescheduled.”

“I can’t do a concert,” I repeated, growing impatient. “I have exams in December, and I’m working on my own composition for Professor Slade’s class. I don’t have time to practice for a recital.”

“Oh, but you have time for boys at coffee carts?” she asked coolly.

I swallowed, stealing a glance at Noah. He was staring straight ahead and clenching the steering wheel. I couldn’t even begin to guess what he was thinking. “I have a headache. Can I call you back later?”

She hummed. “Doctor Stevens warned me about this. If you have headaches, then you’re drinking too much caffeine. Less coffee and more sleep, Emmaline.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I answered automatically.

“Call me tomorrow.” She hung up before I could respond.

I practically threw my phone into my backpack’s side pocket.

Sighing a sigh all other sighs would be proud of, I slumped back against my seat.

“That wasn’t so bad,” I admitted, actually managing a small smile as I flopped an arm over my eyes. My head twinged. “It could’ve been worse, at least.”

A brief silence passed as my heart rate lowered to a reasonable pace.