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Authors: Whitney Gaskell
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Graham said.
“Meaning you want me to move to Arizona,” I said, deliberately—churlishly—picking at the scab of the well-worn argument.
Graham shrugged. “Yes, maybe. Or maybe I’ll get as good of a job here. Or maybe we’ll wait until after you graduate and move somewhere else together,” he said, sounding so reasonable, I felt guilty for my earlier flash of temper. I rested my hand on his, by way of apology.
Graham reached for me, sliding across the couch to close the distance between us. He wrapped his arms around me, and I relaxed into the embrace. And for the first time since law school began, I felt safe. The tide of strangeness—the new people, and schedule, and crushing workload—ebbed and receded, and normalcy returned. I buried my head into Graham’s shirt, sniffing in the sameness of him. He smelled of fabric softener and bar soap and oranges.
“Can we try?” Graham asked softly.
I nodded. A second chance. “Yes,” I said. “I’d like that.”
Chapter Six
I sat in class, doodling on a yellow legal pad, while my thoughts drifted to Graham. He’d left Tuesday morning, flying back to Arizona. We’d slept together the night before he left, and it was…nice. Quite nice. Maybe it wasn’t the sort of epic romance Jen had been imagining, but how often did that happen in real life, anyway? It wasn’t like Graham was going to stare soulfully at me while I popped chocolate-covered strawberries in his mouth.
I glanced up at the clock. Twenty more minutes until Crim class ended, and then I was free from Hoffman for the weekend. Despite my poor performance on the first day of class, Hoffman hadn’t called on me again. Instead, he seemed to delight in picking on different students every day, mocking them when stage fright caused them to stumble over the answers. So far, though, no one else had been caught unprepared or been forced to stand while Hoffman grilled them, so I still held that special distinction among my classmates.
He’s such a sadistic prick, I thought. He probably tortures small animals in his free time. I wonder if the cats that live in his neighborhood have a tendency to go missing. Or, maybe—
“Ms. Bennett?”
The sound of my name cracked across the room like a whip. I looked up, horrified to see that Hoffman had turned his flat shark eyes on me.
Shit.
It was as if the asshole had been reading my thoughts. My stomach roiled nervously, and I had to force myself to meet his gaze while I waited for the interrogation to commence. But this time I was ready for him—this time I’d not only read and reread the assignment, I’d taken careful notes, complete with the fact pattern, case summary, and holding of every case. This time I wouldn’t make a fool of myself. I folded my hands in front of me on the table and waited for the question.
“Well, Ms. Bennett, don’t keep us all in suspense.”
Huh? Why was he looking at me so expectantly? Wait…why was everyone in the room looking at me? Oh, no…oh, no no no no no. Had he asked the question when I wasn’t paying attention? Oh, God. That must be it. Of all the times to zone out…
“Would you mind repeating the question?” I asked, barely recognizing the high, thin voice as my own.
Hoffman gave an exaggerated sigh. “Yes, actually, I would mind. This lecture is for your benefit, not mine. If you aren’t prepared to come to class and listen, Ms. Bennett, then I would suggest you not bother coming at all. I don’t care if you waste your own time, but I take great offense at your wasting mine and everyone else’s,” he said in a cold, biting tone that had its intended effect of making me feel like shit on a stick. “Mr. Fournier, please repeat the question for Ms. Bennett.”
Mr. Fournier—I had no idea what his first name was—sat in the front row of class and was exactly the sort of law student who gave the rest of us a bad reputation. He constantly volunteered in class, took an obvious and annoying pleasure in
“Meaning you want me to move to Arizona,” I said, deliberately—churlishly—picking at the scab of the well-worn argument.
Graham shrugged. “Yes, maybe. Or maybe I’ll get as good of a job here. Or maybe we’ll wait until after you graduate and move somewhere else together,” he said, sounding so reasonable, I felt guilty for my earlier flash of temper. I rested my hand on his, by way of apology.
Graham reached for me, sliding across the couch to close the distance between us. He wrapped his arms around me, and I relaxed into the embrace. And for the first time since law school began, I felt safe. The tide of strangeness—the new people, and schedule, and crushing workload—ebbed and receded, and normalcy returned. I buried my head into Graham’s shirt, sniffing in the sameness of him. He smelled of fabric softener and bar soap and oranges.
“Can we try?” Graham asked softly.
I nodded. A second chance. “Yes,” I said. “I’d like that.”
Chapter Six
I sat in class, doodling on a yellow legal pad, while my thoughts drifted to Graham. He’d left Tuesday morning, flying back to Arizona. We’d slept together the night before he left, and it was…nice. Quite nice. Maybe it wasn’t the sort of epic romance Jen had been imagining, but how often did that happen in real life, anyway? It wasn’t like Graham was going to stare soulfully at me while I popped chocolate-covered strawberries in his mouth.
I glanced up at the clock. Twenty more minutes until Crim class ended, and then I was free from Hoffman for the weekend. Despite my poor performance on the first day of class, Hoffman hadn’t called on me again. Instead, he seemed to delight in picking on different students every day, mocking them when stage fright caused them to stumble over the answers. So far, though, no one else had been caught unprepared or been forced to stand while Hoffman grilled them, so I still held that special distinction among my classmates.
He’s such a sadistic prick, I thought. He probably tortures small animals in his free time. I wonder if the cats that live in his neighborhood have a tendency to go missing. Or, maybe—
“Ms. Bennett?”
The sound of my name cracked across the room like a whip. I looked up, horrified to see that Hoffman had turned his flat shark eyes on me.
Shit.
It was as if the asshole had been reading my thoughts. My stomach roiled nervously, and I had to force myself to meet his gaze while I waited for the interrogation to commence. But this time I was ready for him—this time I’d not only read and reread the assignment, I’d taken careful notes, complete with the fact pattern, case summary, and holding of every case. This time I wouldn’t make a fool of myself. I folded my hands in front of me on the table and waited for the question.
“Well, Ms. Bennett, don’t keep us all in suspense.”
Huh? Why was he looking at me so expectantly? Wait…why was everyone in the room looking at me? Oh, no…oh, no no no no no. Had he asked the question when I wasn’t paying attention? Oh, God. That must be it. Of all the times to zone out…
“Would you mind repeating the question?” I asked, barely recognizing the high, thin voice as my own.
Hoffman gave an exaggerated sigh. “Yes, actually, I would mind. This lecture is for your benefit, not mine. If you aren’t prepared to come to class and listen, Ms. Bennett, then I would suggest you not bother coming at all. I don’t care if you waste your own time, but I take great offense at your wasting mine and everyone else’s,” he said in a cold, biting tone that had its intended effect of making me feel like shit on a stick. “Mr. Fournier, please repeat the question for Ms. Bennett.”
Mr. Fournier—I had no idea what his first name was—sat in the front row of class and was exactly the sort of law student who gave the rest of us a bad reputation. He constantly volunteered in class, took an obvious and annoying pleasure in
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