Page 6 of Pack Apollo

Chapter Three

Three days of working at the bar, and I'm ready for my freedom. Not that I mind the money. It's just extremely overstimulating by the third night. By the time Sunday rolls around, I'm fifteen hundred dollars richer, but have to take the whole day to recuperate.

I sleep in so late that it's lunch time when I make it to the cafeteria, and in my sweats nonetheless, because obviously I'm going to be lazy and not bother with anything that takes real effort. It's quiet with only a few people lingering around. The silence is welcoming, but also kind of has me wondering about Millie-Jane. I haven't seen her around in the past week. If it wouldn't make me look like a weirdo, I'd find a way to check in on her to make sure she's okay. People don't usually say okay see you tomorrow then up and vanish.

I'm still wondering about her as I get up to toss my trash. Passing the cork board on my way gives me a thorough distraction as I notice one of the flyers hanging up. The board itself is busy with papers of many colors hanging on top of each other. The one that catches my eye is a bright pink and in big bold letters invites anyone and everyone to an on campus outside movie marathon.

This seems to be a weekly occurrence, but I've never had any interest in going. Last week the genre of movies playing was romcoms, and the week before that it was musicals. Neither of which are really my thing, with the exception of a few here and there. Tonight, however, it's going to be Troma. My inner nerd actually does a little happy dance. I stumbled upon the cheesy, eighties, gore core movies a few years ago, and absolutely love them.

As lame as it may sound to the normal college goer, I spend the rest of my afternoon in the campus library working onassignments that are due in the next two weeks. There isn't any real reason for doing it in the library, other than finding it as a place of comfort when I get tired of staring at the same four walls of my dorm room and start feeling claustrophobic. The librarian who always seems to be working is a girl around my age and is super nice to everyone.

I wrap it up and pack all my things roughly an hour before dark. It gives me just enough time to run back to my room, drop all the things that I don't need, and grab a pillow and blanket.

It isn't until I've got everything spread out on the grass that I wish I would've thought to bring some snacks with me. Fortunately, it isn't long before I see one of those little sidewalk vendors pushing a small cart down the walkway, and the smell of freshly popped popcorn wafts in my direction. I give them a few minutes to set up and for the small line of people to die down before I make my way over. Not ashamed in the least, I buy the largest bucket of popcorn they offer, a diet coke, and some Twizzlers before heading back to my blanket.

The movie is about a third of the way in when jean-clad legs move into my peripheral and a voice says, "Ms. Bardot. You are the last person I was expecting to see out here tonight."

I glance over and up...and up to find Professor Brent standing there smiling down at me.

"Hi, professor," I reply stupidly, sounding like only half of my brain is working. The other half fires up after a few seconds and I quickly add, "Would you like to sit down?"

He hesitates just long enough that I add, "You don't know what you're missing until you try it."

"I just so happened to be walking by," he admits, taking the offered seat. "I had no intention of coming to this one."

"Do you normally?" I ask, keeping my voice down as to not to disturb anyone else.

He nods, "Yeah, I think the whole idea is nostalgic."

"Just as long as it's not Troma," I say, shooting him a smile.

Laughing quietly, he confesses, "I can sit through them. They just aren't my favorite."

Conversation goes quiet as we watch the movie. Some of the people around us laugh and others fake gag at the gore on the screen. One of my favorite parts is coming up, and sure enough, just as soon as it happens, I bust out laughing.

He grins over at me. "You and my pack mate would get along so well."

"He cracks up at the worst parts of the movies, too?" I ask.

His head nods, but he doesn't get to say whatever he's about to. Out of nowhere a huge fluff of yellow launches over his outstretched legs and lands between mine. Thank God we aren't watching horror movies out here, because the surprise floof would've had me screaming like a little girl.

It does still startle me enough to let out a small yelp. Of course, just as soon as it does a wiggle flip and a wet nose is pressed into my hand, I've crossed over into "awww" territory.

"I'm so sorry," a man says out of breath with a recognizable voice.

Sure enough, my Uber driver that I've seen for the past three nights is copping a squat on my blanket.

"I saw you guys sitting over here and thought it'd be nice to come say hi," he says, still trying to slow his breathing. "Sherlock had other ideas. Almost yanked my arm off trying to get here."

Assuming Sherlock is the yellow floof that is now belly up with his tongue lolling out, I rub his soft fur as I give Palmer a fake glare. "Now I'm really beginning to think that you're stalking me."

"Hey," he replies, holding his hands up. "You're the one that called me all weekend."

Professor Brent looks from one of us to the other. "You guys know each other?"

"Only in twenty minute increments," I tell him with a quick wink.

I swear, I don't think his jaw could drop any quicker than what it does. Palmer only makes it about ten seconds of silence before he loses it and starts cackling.

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