6. Van

6

Van

I f I didn't know better, I'd swear Josie doesn't recognize me. It's bizarre. She's acting like we're total strangers, and yet we know each other well. Or at least, we used to. Hell, I know the sounds she makes when she's falling off the edge into an orgasm, but right now it's like she's never seen me before. She's making eye contact only when necessary and paying a lot more attention to the words she's jotted in her notebook than she is to me.

It's so damn awkward, I have no clue how we're going to get through the next five minutes, let alone the rest of the semester. Josie has book smarts, no doubt, and I sure as hell don't. But I'm people smart. I'm usually really good at making people feel relaxed and at navigating uncomfortable situations. And okay, I failed spectacularly at both of those when shit hit the fan with Josie and me a couple years back. But I've learned a lot since then, thankfully.

I take a breath and offer half a smile. My dimple used to make her weak in the knees, and I'm totally not above exploiting that fact. "Josie," I begin, my voice soft, my posture relaxed. It's like I'm dealing with a wounded animal, and in a way, I am. I hurt Josie deeply, and I've never regretted anything more in my life. It's gotta be shitty for her to be in this position of having to help me, so before we go any further, I know I need to apologize. Or, at least start to.

She looks up at me, hesitant and maybe a little cautious. Her eyes are luminous—so full and bright. I get a little lost in them, and before I can pull myself out and say what needs to be said, the doors open with a slam and a crew of about eight or ten guys strolls in. Of course, they pile their stuff onto the open table next to us and start dragging chairs over, laughing and talking the whole time. I recognize a couple of the guys from the baseball team, but I don't dare say anything. It's not that I'm embarrassed to be seen with my tutor; I know anybody looking on would just see two people studying. It's more the fact that now they're here, having a conversation with Josie is going to be all but impossible.

Proving my theory right, she pulls back a little, adjusts her already perfectly straight glasses, and starts typing on her laptop.

I stare at the book I pulled out of my backpack. It probably looks like I'm reading, but I have no clue what's on the page in front of me.

Josie shuffles some papers around, clicks a few buttons on her laptop and peers over at me. "You have a test in Philosophy tomorrow? Let's start there. It looks like you should be on chapter six?"

"Sounds good," I lie. It sounds boring as hell. Frustrating, too, but what choice do I have? Before we get started, though, I need to say something. "Jos, look, I know we need to get started, but?—"

"We do need to get started," she says, interrupting me. "Do you have notes from the last lecture? Or the assigned reading?"

"No, I record all the lectures, but I haven't listened to yesterday's yet. And we have reading due for tomorrow, but I didn't get to that yet, either." It sucks, but it's the truth. To her credit, there's no judgment on Josie's face.

"Let's do this. You can listen to the lecture and take notes while I read over the chapter. It's been a while since I studied this stuff and I always confuse Bentham and Mill."

I nod, like I get those two confused as well, even though I have no clue who the hell they are. She tears a sheet from her notebook and hands it to me. There are boxes on it and they're all labeled, but I'm not sure what she wants me to do with it.

"Feel free to take notes on that if it helps. I find it keeps me organized. But if you have a system, that's?—"

I stop her there. I don't have a system. If I did, I wouldn't be here. "This is great, thanks. And, hey, if you're going to read over the chapter, could you record it?"

She looks up at me and I feel stupid. I shouldn't have asked. Kevin used to record stuff for me all the time, but that was different. This is different. Not knowing what else to do, I turn on the charm and smile. "It's just that I didn't actually have time to read it—I know, that's bad and part of why I'm here. But if you record it, I could listen to it while I'm on the treadmill tomorrow morning. You don't have to, but?—"

"No problem. I'll just go into one of the study rooms. It shouldn't take too long." She stands up, grabs what she needs, and walks over to one of the soundproof rooms they have.

God, this is torture. An hour passes and I swear the guys from the baseball team get louder with each passing minute. I have my earbuds in, but it's impossible to concentrate. I've listened to the lecture twice now, but I have no notes to show for it. And I'm pretty sure when I get to the test tomorrow, all I'm going to remember is the on-base percentage of the starting lineup. If my professor was half as excited about his slides as these dudes are about their prospects next season, maybe it'd be easier to pay attention.

He's droning on in my ear and I swear I'm in danger of falling asleep when Josie sits back down. "I emailed the audio file to you. I hope it's helpful. How's the note-taking going?" she asks, reaching for the paper she gave me. It's blank, except for the words she already wrote on it, and that awful, sinking feeling is back in the pit of my stomach again.

"I listened to his lecture twice. Sometimes I need to do that. I was just going to start on the notes, but I ran out of time." I'm babbling like an idiot, which is rare for me. I'm no genius, but I'm usually good at knowing when to talk and when to shut the hell up.

Josie looks at her watch, then at the notes sheet, then back at me. "Ok, let's try this. Since you listened to the lecture, what was the professor's argument?"

My brain is blank, and my face must be, too.

"What was his point?" Josie asks. "If you had to boil it all into one sentence, what would it be?"

His point…I close my eyes and think back. I can almost feel my brain cells grabbing on to the words they heard. Miraculously, I come up with an answer. "So, for the Utilitarians, you can make a decision based on how many people will be happy with it. It's the…how did he put it? Yeah. The greater good for the greater number."

"Exactly," Josie says and though it's hardly high praise and she's avoiding eye contact, I'll take it. She writes the words I said in a little color-coded box and then fires more questions my way. I don't get them all right, but I'm scoring more than I'm missing. Just as she fills in the final box, the timer on her watch dings.

"Well, I guess we're done," she says, sliding the paper over to me. "Good luck on your test tomorrow. I'll see you Thursday."

I clear my throat. "Thanks for everything. I was thinking, since we're officially done for the night, I was wondering if we could?—"

Before I can finish my sentence, a woman with short gray hair and little reading glasses approaches our table. "Josie—you're still here. Thank goodness. Brittany called off sick. Any chance you could pull holds?"

She's nodding her reply before the lady's done asking.

Shit. The clock's running down, so I rush the pass. "Josie, before you go?—"

"Sorry," she says as she walks away, "I need to help out. Goodnight."

As she practically runs away from me, I slump down in my chair, tilting my head toward the ceiling and closing my eyes.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

Granted, she helped me study before she bolted, but I have a lot more work to do for my other courses.

"Dude, you sleeping?"

I open my eyes to see Jake Lanza staring at me. He's a pitcher on the baseball team. We're not best friends or anything, but we've had some good times together.

"Nah, man. Just taking a break before getting back to the books."

"Seriously? You've been here longer than we have," he says, pointing to his teammates. "We're having a low-key thing at the house tonight. Nothing crazy, just a couple kegs and some friends. Benny's girl is a Delta Psi, so she's bringing her sisters. It's a guaranteed good time. You should come."

I look around the library. It's just after 10 p.m. on a Tuesday night and there's hardly anybody here, not that I'd have any fucking clue how busy it usually gets.

Jake's buddies grab their stuff and gather at my table.

"Van, my man! Where you been?" one of the guys asks. I think his name is Doug. "You comin' over tonight?"

I'm tempted to say yes. It would be so easy to pick up my backpack and follow them out of here. I could have a couple beers and hang out. Christ knows I could use the break. I've been extra fucking tense this semester.

But that's why I shake my head. "Sorry, guys. I've gotta study. Maybe this weekend? After we kick Claybrooke's ass, we should celebrate."

Jake reaches for my hand and does that bro handshake hug. "Totally, dude."

The guys leave and I'm basically alone. The older lady who needed Josie's help is wheeling a noisy cart around and there's a guy in the back corner with his head bent over a book.

For a second, I wonder if Josie's still here, not that it matters. It's not like I can bound up the steps and go looking for her. She's not on-call, for fuck's sake. Hell, she's probably got a countdown going in her little planner and I'd bet there's a big red slash over today's date. One awkward-as-fuck session down, twenty to go.

There's no way I can do this twenty more times.

I can get pinned against the boards, take a nasty hit, and skate until I can't feel my legs. But this? It's a special kind of hell. First, Josie's the one who got away. The one I fucking pushed away like the dumbass kid I was. Seeing her at random places on campus is hard enough. But here? I'm a sinner in church. I don't belong.

But that's a piss-poor attitude. If one of my guys was bitching and moaning about practice, I'd tell him to work harder. You get out of it what you put into it. Coach says that all the time, and it's true. The harder we train, the better prepared we are come game time.

Maybe that's the solution.

I just need to focus. Give it my fucking all. And then give even more.

Josie made that little block note thingy. I can probably search for more of them online. And I bet I can find a YouTube video of somebody reading these passages out loud. And flashcards. Will is always making flashcards. There's got to be an app for that.

I can do this. If I work hard enough, I can do this. Then I won't even need Josie. I can save us both the trouble. I've been throwing myself a pity party for weeks, but that ends now.

I pull up my course and stare blankly at all the documents. My mind's already spinning, but I can't get psyched out. It's not going to be easy, but it sure as hell beats the alternative.