Undeclared (28 page)

Noah

I laid on top of her, breathing heavily. This was what I had fought for. Like Odysseus I had strung my bow and carried my love to the bed that I made her, the living olive tree at its base.

I slipped out of bed to dispose of the condom and pulled down the covers. I slid us both underneath, and she curled around me.

I ran my finger down her back, tracing the slight slope of the valley formed around her spine. I felt the sharp shape of her shoulder blades and marked the spot mentally. I would want to travel the path with my tongue.

Maybe other guys could give her nicer cars or more money, but no one would ever want her like I would. And no one would work to give her the same pleasure.

Chapter Fifteen

Grace

At Noah’s urging, I showed some of my pictures to the guys at the house, pictures that Lana and I had chosen for my portfolio, although I didn’t tell Noah that. The lavish praise from Noah and the guys infused me with new energy and confidence. Suddenly I wanted to take pictures everywhere and show them to everyone.

“Lana, who would I talk to in admissions to take pictures from Old Main’s bell tower?” Lana did her ten hours of service in the admissions office, which was housed in the oldest building on campus. It was a traditional brick building with two wings, but the original structure had a bell tower that would be the perfect place to take pictures of the students moving around on campus.

“Not sure, maybe the Provost?”

“Could you ask for me?”

“Sure. Gonna take some pictures up there?”

“Yeah, I think it would be a great setting.”

My phone beeped. Call me. Josh had texted. I rolled my eyes. Like he couldn’t call me. I dialed him anyway.

“What’s up, buttercup?” I chirped at him.

“Do you want to make some money?”

“Um sure, do I have to take off my clothes?” I asked to torture him.

“Ha ha. Very funny. Not,” Josh replied. “Look, the University PR folks were in here the other day and saw your photo, and they want to use it on some promotional material. They said that they would pay for it.”

“Wow, that’s cool,” No matter what Noah had said before, no one had offered me any money for my photos. “How much?”

“They said if you sold it to them outright, five Gs.”

I almost dropped the phone, “What? Did I hear you?”

“For real. I almost swallowed my gum when they told me, but apparently full-color prints like this easily could run in excess of five grand because you could charge a set fee and then only sell them usage licenses.”

“I didn’t know any of this.”

“No worries,” Josh said, utterly cheerful. “Nate and I talked with some girls over in the art department. We’ll handle it all for a cut of fifteen percent.”

“No way! You didn’t do anything.”

“I got you access to the press box for the game and free tickets.”

“Five percent,” I countered.

“Ten.”

“Five.”

“Fine, five percent, but next time we go out, you’re paying,” Josh conceded.

“Deal,” I hung up and gave a squeal.

“What is it?” Lana was standing over me, impatiently tapping her hand on the table.

“State is buying my photo and paying me a lot of money for it,” I felt dazed. “I think I need to go lie down.” I stumbled to my feet and lurched over to the sofa.

“Wow you must really feel faint if you’re lying on my sofa,” Lana snarked. She came over and sat on the chair. “Why are you so surprised? Your pictures have always been awesome.”

“I guess I thought when people said it could be a career, it was a joke.”

“Good thing you’re going to meet with Dr. Rossum.”

“No, I think I need to be a finance major. Josh was talking about licenses and set fees and stuff I had zero understanding of.” I felt dazed by it all.

“Nah, you’re the artist. You create. Someone else sells.” Lana looked at her fingers and nonchalantly added, “And you’ve got the perfect person to be able to do that.”

I already knew a finance major. A surge of adrenaline spiked through me. “I have to go take more photos. I’ve always wanted to take a picture of the State capital. I wonder how much it would cost to rent a crane.”

“A crane?” Lana laughed.

“So I can get some height,” I said. “No wait. I need to learn to take ground level tilt shifts. And maybe do some freeze motion photography.” I got up and ran to my camera. “Can I borrow your car? I want to go over to the Botanical Gardens and take some shots.”

“Sure. I’ll come with you. Remember, I’m your assistant,” Lana teased.

As we were walking through the Gardens, admiring the late fall foliage, I told Lana that I had received a response from the head of the program. “I’m going to talk to Dr. Rossum tomorrow about a major in the Fine Arts program.”

Lana jumped up and down and clapped her hands in glee. “Yay!”

“I’m excited,” I admitted, trying to suppress my pleasure both at my decision and Lana’s reaction. “I’m supposed to bring in a portfolio of my work, and he said that he would assess my suitability.”

“He’ll love it.”

“I hope so. I never thought my work was any good, you know? So I told everyone that I wasn’t interested in making money off it,” I admitted.

“I know,” Lana took my free hand and swung it, walking like we were five-year-olds on our first jaunt in the park.

“How so?”

“You were scared and deflecting, diminishing expectations in hopes of avoiding disappointment.”

“Do you really think talking like that to your patients is going to be helpful?”

“Too much?” She stopped and turned to me.

“Definitely,” I reached over and gave her a hug. “I still love you best.”

“Nah,” she said, hugging me back. “I think you love someone else best now, but I’m okay with that.”

I blushed a little and goosed her in retaliation.

“Speaking of true loves, you telling Noah about your plans?”

“No, not until after I talk to Dr. Rossum. I want to surprise him with the good news.”

***

I fingered my prepared portfolio. I had pored over my photos, but there were only I felt comfortable showing a few of them to Dr. Rossum. One of Lana’s sorority sisters was an art major and said that he was notoriously difficult and picky. I wished I had taken Lana up on her offer to come or told Noah about it. They would both be here, holding my hand if I had asked them.

But I had relied on Lana for so long. I wouldn’t even be here at Central if she hadn’t surreptitiously sent in my application. Noah could go fight a war, come back, and build an empire. I could face down one college professor.

“Don’t hover, Ms. Sullivan. Either come in or leave,” I jumped at the slightly nasal command. The door had been ajar, but I hadn’t realized he had spotted me.

I rubbed a finger across my nose, took a deep breath, and pushed the door fully open to walk through. Dr. Rossum’s office was a disaster. There were two wooden chairs set in front of his desk, but they were overflowing with magazines and papers. A small path from the door to the desk was cleared, but there was nowhere to sit. I inched in, careful not to tumble any of the piles to the ground. I stood awkwardly while he inspected me.

His gaze was so penetrating I felt like he could see all my flaws. That I didn’t know how to draw. That I hadn’t taken one art class, ever. That I spent most of my time walking in Lana’s shadow and my best friend was a boy I wrote to for four years and had never met, until recently. The organs in my throat seemed to swell, and I swallowed rapidly to try to keep my airway open.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
I ordered myself silently.

Dr. Rossum held out his hand and I laid the portfolio in his hand. For several minutes, I stood as Dr. Rossum silently paged through my pictures. He reached the end, flipped through rapidly again, and tossed it toward me like a Frisbee. I fumbled it and the photos spilled out onto the piles and the floor like refuse. My cheeks were burning as I bent to pick up the trash. Tears sat at the base of my throat, threatening to spill out if I so much as opened my mouth. I mutely tucked all the photos into my portfolio and stood up.

“Your photos look like you are trying out for the high school yearbook. Pretty pictures of flowers and trick photography? I hardly think you’d cut it as an art student here at Central. We are not here to train people to win Cosmo contests, but to capture the heart and soul of people through the lens,” he sneered the words as if just looking at my photos had begun to contaminate the department. I said nothing in my own defense because what could I say? That I liked pretty flowers and trick photography?

“Art is not about the acquisition of money. It is the portrayal of human suffering and triumph. Your photographs are as plastic as the images you are trying to digitally alter. Go back to your humanities studies.” He waved to shoo me out. I fled as if rabid dogs were chasing at my heels. My tears began to fall before I had even crossed the threshold of his office into the hallway.

It was my cursed luck that the FAC building was on the south end of campus, down by the theater and the diner that Noah had taken me to that first time. I ran home, straight down the middle of campus, tears streaming down my face. I heard ugly moaning sounds and, after a minute, came to the horrible realization that I was making them.

I had allowed myself to be convinced by my friends that I had talent, but deep down I must have known the truth. I hadn’t tried to enter the Art program here because I knew I wasn’t good enough. A little money and a lot of friendly encouragement had puffed me up, and Dr. Rossum brought me right back down to earth.

I ran up the stairs ready to bury myself in my bedroom, only when I opened the door I was greeted with the smiling faces of Lana, Noah, several sorority girls, and all of Noah’s roommates. It looked like a party was in progress. I wanted to die.

Noah

Grace stood at the doorway, her mouth slightly open, tear tracks running down her face. She was breathing heavily like she had run a mile to get here. We all froze in our tracks. And then Lana and I shook off our surprise and moved toward her at the same time. Grace rushed past us into the bedroom. I followed, but found the door locked. I didn’t even know these doors had locks. I jiggled the doorknob and then knocked. “Grace.” When she didn’t respond, I knocked louder. “Grace!”

“Stop it,” Lana hissed beside me. “You’re making it worse.” She tilted her head discretely toward the living room. Turning I could see the entire crowd of people standing and watching the drama. Grace wouldn’t want this, but I had to get in there. I didn’t know if some dickhead had attacked her outside or if she had terrible news from her family.

Swiftly I moved toward Lana’s bedroom. I would call her from the privacy of Lana’s bedroom. I didn’t ask permission or speak to anyone, but I signaled Bo with a tilt of my head. He responded immediately.

As I was shutting the door to Lana’s room behind me, I could hear Bo telling everyone to go home.

“Maybe you should just let her be,” Lana had followed me in.

“Do you know what this is about?” She turned away. “Tell me,” I grabbed her arm to pull her back.

“She wanted to surprise you,” Lana said, getting a little tearful herself.

“About what?” When Lana didn’t immediately respond, I pulled out my phone and dialed Grace’s number. Through the doors I could hear it ring, but Grace didn’t pick up. I hung up and dialed again. No answer. I dialed again. No ring. No answer. Fuck. I’d break down the door. Out in the living room, Bo sat on a chair, bent over with his elbows on his knees. He was tossing a phone back and forth between his hands.

“That hers?” I asked.

He nodded. “She opened the door and threw it at me.”

“Motherfucker,” I cursed. “Grace, talk to me.”

Lana was at my elbow again. “Maybe you should let me do it.”

“I’m not leaving until I see she is okay.”

“Just go to my bedroom and wait,” Lana gestured toward her room across the hall.

“Fine,” I ground out. I stomped off, signaling Bo to follow.

“Grace, it’s just me. What happened with Dr. Rossum?” I stopped and left the door to Lana’s room ajar so I could shamelessly eavesdrop. Bo sat down on Lana’s bed, my battle buddy, always having my back. Dr. Rossum? I mouthed to Bo. He shrugged. I had never heard of this dude. Was he one of Grace’s professors? Had he come on to her? White-hot rage flashed in front of my eyes, blinding me for a moment.

I heard a door open and soft murmurings then a soft sob. Goddamn, Grace was crying. I had never heard her cry. Shit. Was, there anything worse than hearing your girl cry and not being able to do a damn thing about it?

My phone rang, sounding unreasonably loud. Paulie it said. Fuck me. I had to take this. “What’s up?” I bit out.

“I have more details on the Halloween fight.” Paulie gleefully spilled out a number of meaningless words. I had come over to Grace’s apartment to share the good news. The guy fighting the undercard on the next UFC fight had laid down his crotch rocket on the highway in L.A. He broke five ribs and had a crushed knee. He was out, probably for good. An agent who had seen me spar Bo last week called up and invited me onto the card. I was going to fight a legitimate pay-per-view bout.