Page 30 of Bone to Pick
“What? You’re kidding?” Webb said. “Shit, Porter, that’s fantastic! One of your grant applications came through?”
“No,” I said with a laugh. “I mean, maybe? I don’t know yet. But this was a large endowment through the university fund given by a local family foundation or something. I’m not sure exactly. My head started spinning after she told me about the job, and itkeptspinning when I saw the salary on the HR forms I filled out. The only stipulation was that the program has to implement some activities to educate and inspire kids in the sciences with specific emphasis on physics. The wording is broad, though, so I can get creative. We could make balloon cars or measure the volume and weight of snowballs. Remember when Gage helped Aiden build that automated dog treat dispenser for the science fair? Or when Aiden’s Scout group built Popsicle stick trebuchets? That kind of thing.”
“That was a blast,” he said. “Until my son decided to build a bigger one with scrap lumber and use rotten apples as ammo.”
I laughed, feeling light and free. I told him the specifics of the offer and confessed I might not be able to stay in Little Pippin Hollow very long over the holidays. “I’ll need to move by the end of December since my sublet is up, and I’ll probably want to get some work done so I can jump into the new job with both feet.”
“Understandable. We can come help you move after the holidays. I’m not sure if we have any spare furniture lying around, but Luke’s mom has an uncanny ability to find deals on stuff. I can ask her to keep her eye out.”
“That would be great. Thanks.” The thought of moving for the second time in six months was depressing. I tried not to think about it too much, but I would need to get creative to find housing in a college town in the middle of the school year.
“But you’re definitely not taking part in the graduation ceremony until next May, so you can be with your friends, right? You want us to come out to Hannabury later this week and, I dunno, take you out for a beer or something? Seems kind of anticlimactic to end your final, final semester without celebrating.”
“Oh, I’ll be celebrating. My friends were already going to take me out tonight, and they don’t even know about the job yet. But I do want to spend a couple of days looking at places to live, and I’ll come home after that. Maybe we can celebrate my degree over the holidays,” I said. “Tell Drew and Marco I’m expecting a feast of my favorites.”
“Will do. We’re proud of you, Porter.” We talked for a while longer before ending the call. It was nice to hear his familiar voice, and I realized I was looking forward to seeing everyone over the holidays.
Within moments of ending the call, the family text chain blew up with congratulations emojis and graduation GIFs.
As I looked up from my phone, I saw someone exit the front door of the English building.
Theo.
I stared at him, drinking in his long-legged confidence and the way his dark-framed glasses set off his hair. He turned his head when someone behind me called out to a friend. Our eyes met and locked on each other. Words hung unspoken in the crisp winter air between us.
I was no longer a student in his department. But technically, he was still responsible for the final granting of my degree on behalf of the department. I wondered how long that process took.
I’d told him I would approach him the day after finishing the semester, but that didn’t mean he was free. For all I knew, he was inundated with papers to grade and exams to review.
For all I knew, he was dreading our meeting.
My heart tripped over itself in the vain hope he would say something, call out to me with an admission of longing, of sleepless nights and desperate hope—the same things I’d been experiencing without him.
But another shouted laugh came from behind me, breaking the moment and causing Theo to frown before nodding slightly in my direction and then walking away.
I trudged the rest of the way to my car, wondering if I should cease my stupid hopes and acknowledge he might not have the same feelings for me I had for him. Just because I wanted more and sensed there was a magnetic connection between us didn’t mean he felt the same way. Was I being naive to think I could convince him to give us a try?
Maybe when I went home for the holidays, I could ask my family for help. If I explained everything, they’d help me come up with a plan or tell me I was being ridiculous.
My phone continued to blow up with congratulations messages, but I was too melancholy to respond. Instead, I turned my phone off.
I dropped my vehicle at home, did some half-hearted packing, and walked to the bar to meet my friends a few hours later. Suddenly, I felt like getting wasted. When I entered the bar and found a table already taken by my classmates and covered in appetizers, I exhaled a sigh of relief.
“You guys are a sight for sore eyes,” I admitted.
Nolan shoved a tequila shot in my hands. “To the college graduate! May you live long and prosper!”
I threw the drink back and felt the familiar burn. Even though I hadn’t had a drink since the night I ended up at Theo’s house, I still credited them with putting my life on a different path than it might have taken if they hadn’t convinced me to go rant poetry at my former professor.
“Finally,” I agreed, reaching for a clean glass and helping myself to the pitcher of beer in the center of the table. “It only took six and a half fucking years.”
They all cheered and laughed, clinking glasses with me and giving me hell for being a “graduating grandpa.” We shared the relief of finishing the semester and talked about everyone’s plans for the holidays.
It took about three hours and who-knew-how-many more drinks before I couldn’t stand it anymore.
“I’m in love with Doctor Hot-Cock,” I blurted out in the middle of Sean’s summary of a recent basketball game.
“No, man, I said shot clock,” he explained with a divot of confusion on his forehead. “Shot. Clock.”
