a simple favor (h.s.)

six

"So are you majoring in psychology?"

I glance up from my notebook to look at Andy. "Oh. Um, no. I don't actually have a major yet."

He shrugs good-naturedly. "That's okay. You still have time." He smiles at me, and my eyes linger on his for a second too long before I look away, trying not to blush.

I was sitting outside, trying to get some work done, when he sat down next to me. It's been ten minutes, and my heart still hasn't slowed to its normal pace. To be clear, I'm not nervous about Andy. Well, I am a little bit, but that's only because Harry is going to be here any minute to pick me up. In approximately two hours, Diane from immigration is coming for our home visit.

We've spent the last week making the house look as personal as possible, which means I had to move all my stuff into Harry's room. He assured me we'd put it all back the second the interview was over, but it's definitely made the last few days more difficult than they needed to be. Obviously, I've still been sleeping in my own room, but every morning, I've had to knock on his door and awkwardly shuffle through the closet for an outfit while we both pretend the other doesn't exist. It's a cycle I'll be glad to give up when this is all over.

Andy is still talking about majors, and that's how I learn that his is statistics. I'm not sure how it hasn't managed to come up in the week that we've known each other, but this is the first time we've ever talked outside of class, so I guess that makes sense.

"Everyone in my classes is either fresh out of high school or much older," he tells me. "It's nice to meet someone who's my age."

"I know," I agree. "And is it just me, or are the teenagers kind of judgemental? I mean, we're all in the same boat."

"It's definitely not just you. And they think we're so old, too. There was this one girl in my calculus class who asked me if I was on Instagram. We're not ancient."

I can't help the laugh that tumbles out of my throat. "You know that she was probably flirting with you, right? Trying to get your Instagram."

Andy blinks, like the thought hasn't crossed his mind until now. I'm not sure why, because it's not like he's ugly—in fact, with his sandy brown hair and defined muscles, he's actually rather good-looking. The realization makes me feel guilty, and then annoyed at myself for feeling guilty. I'm not doing anything wrong, and I'm certainly not doing anything that Harry hasn't done.

"You think so?" Andy says finally.

I nod. "I'm a girl. I know all our tricks."

The corners of his mouth twitch at that. "Good to know."

Before I can say anything, I notice a familiar black Range Rover pulling up in front of the campus. Then, for confirmation, my phone buzzes with a text message from Harry: I see you. I'm outside.

The message would've been creepy if it was from anyone else. I see you. But that's Harry, as stoic and straightforward as ever. I sigh before saying to Andy, "I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

His eyes travel to Harry's car, and I watch him put the pieces together. He lets out a low whistle. "Wow. That's your ride?"

I try not to blush, remembering how I told him I didn't have a boyfriend. Well, technically, I don't have a boyfriend. Just a husband. "Yup. See you!" Then I scurry off to Harry's car before Andy can get in another word.

When I open the door and slide into the passenger's seat, Harry's on the phone. He gives me a tight-lipped smile, and I have no choice but to sit there awkwardly while I wait for his conversation to finish. He's going on about the final touches on the acquisition project, and I can tell by the clenching of his jaw and the strained tone of his voice that he's not happy about whatever the person on the other line is saying. I stare out the window at Truman as we drive away, thankful that my days are now spent there instead of in the office with Harry.