Page 62 of Forever Only Once

Chapter 13

Hazel

I rubbed my temples,took off my reading glasses because they were impeding my rubbing, and then went back to it. I was usually better at focusing and not getting headaches when it came to grading, but I hadn’t slept the night before, and that was my fault. Well, mine and Cross’s. But I couldn’t blame him for that, could I? I was the one who’d slept over. Actually slept over at his house, on a school night. I’d had to rush home this morning to make sure I could get ready and dressed on time.

I had barely made it in before my first class, and I knew that if my friends could see me now, they would think that I looked like a cat in cream.

Or maybe a cat with a canary in its mouth.

I wasn’t good at that idiom. I was far better at math. Or so I told myself as I looked down at my grading.

Dustin’s homework was in front of me. As I went through it, I nodded along at the progress I saw.

He was trying so hard, but there were still a few parts he wasn’t getting. I held up my notebook and took a few notes to try a couple of other pathways for him during our next meeting. He understood far more than he had before, but something wasn’t clicking yet. I was going to figure out how to fix that.

Because he was a brilliant kid with a ton of potential. And since I hated the word potential because all it did was have negative connotations for the other side of the coin, I would never tell him that. But I was going to show him that he could do this. He could figure this out, and we would find a way to make that happen for him. Dustin had gotten a better grade on the most recent exam than he had on the first one. I could already see the improvement. I needed to stop being so hypercritical of my grading and teaching and just breathe through this.

Dustin would get it. It would take a little time and some patience, but he’d do it. I wasn’t very patient in wanting to see my students succeed, though.

I found my reading glasses again, sipped at my now-cooling tea, and went back to grading.

I was nearing my lunch break and knew I should probably leave my desk since I had a headache, so I locked everything away and headed to the other side of the building where I knew I could pick up a sandwich since I hadn’t brought a salad or anything else with me today. After all, I’d been a bit preoccupied this morning. And a little late. All because of a certain man, one with very nice looks and an even nicer cock. Not that I was going to think about that right now. I could already feel the color in my cheeks, but I didn’t let that bother me.

After all, I wasn’t going to be that woman. The one who always thought about the guy she was dating and pretended that everything was fine.

Because we weren’t dating. We were past dating. We were in a relationship.

Somehow, an accidental blind date had turned into an actual relationship. And I still wasn’t a hundred percent sure how that had happened.

But I was fine. I would figure this out. I always did.

I ordered a small sandwich from the café with an iced tea, my water already in my bag, and then took a seat in the corner so I could eat it in peace—surrounded by people but not actually having to communicate.

That was the good thing about the mathematicians in my department—they knew when to socialize, and when somebody just wanted to sit in a corner surrounded by people but still alone.

I opened my sandwich and started eating, enjoying my lunch and trying to let my brain emerge from its fog.

Of course, my phone took that moment to start buzzing.

I looked down at the group chat and smiled.

All of the girls were working today, but it seemed we had decided to take our lunch break together. Or at least, a text break together.

Paris: Don’t you find it odd that Hazel still hasn’t told us much about what she and Cross are doing?

Myra: I know, right? I mean, they’ve been on how many dates together now? And we know she’s slept with him at least five times.

My eyes widened, and I held back a laugh, mostly because I was in public, and no one needed to ask me what this conversation was about.

Dakota:Hey now, be nice. When it’s our turn, don’t we deserve a little bit of privacy?

I always knew I liked Dakota. She understood me.

Dakota: I changed my mind. I want to know all the details. Tell me. I’m living vicariously through you here.

Dakota wasn’t my favorite person.

As the girls continued to text, each one adding more emojis and exclamation points, I scrolled down and began typing.