"Hi Rory," I press my mouth into a thin smile.
Pushing past the prick, I head toward a booth on the other side of the diner to clear some abandoned coffee cups.
Unfortunately, Rory follows me.
"How's your day?" Rory smirks.
"It was going well," I answer.
Much to my chagrin, Rory keeps trailing me as I walk up to the counter to deposit the dirty dishes.
"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here?" He asks, folding himself over the counter.
"OK, I'll bite," I keep my head down and pour a couple of waters for table five. "Why are you slumming it in Auburn today, Rory?"
He shadows me like a bad omen as I deliver the drinks to my waiting customers. The older couple smiles warmly as I approach.
When I turn to leave, I almost run smack into Rory's chest.
Flustered, I step sideways and continue walking to the counter.
"I'm in town to take you out tonight, Moira," Rory says with a triumphant grin.
"So sorry Rory, but I have plans," I finally give the smarmy jerk a real smile.
Rory goes rigid for a split second before he relaxes again, seemingly unfazed.
"Hot date with Keri?" He arches his brow.
"Yup," I reply.
"Well, great," Rory takes it all in stride. "Maybe I'll see you out and about."
"Is that a threat?" I grab a rag to wipe down the tables I've already cleaned.
"Is that what you think of me?" He purrs, hovering like a pesky fly while I bounce from table to table. "A man asking you out isn't a threat Moira. It saddens me deeply that you would see me that way. I'm just excited to see you dressed up for once."
I bristle and around turn to put him in his place, but he's already headed out the door.
I tried to forget Rory's words because I didn't want him to ruin our night of fun before it even began.
What's crazy is this isn't the first time Rory's followed me around and asked me out. It's as if he's trying to dare me into doing it. Yet, he knows my answer will always be no.
I'll never understand his damage. He's got plenty of girls that are willing to bask in the glow of his ego and money, so I have no idea what kind of kick he gets out of my rejection.
My mom's not even home when I rush into our trailer to change for school. I hope that means she got a job or she's grocery shopping.
With seconds to spare, I'm running out the door again (after securing our dresses are secure in a waterproof garment bag, of course). Thankfully, I don't need to pack any extra cosmetics since I know that Keri's probably going to insist on doing my makeup at her house.
It's awkward hauling my backpack and a garment bag on the bus, but I'm too excited to get my essay back and go out with Keri to really care.
As soon as I'm settled in my chair, Keira turns to stare at all my baggage.
"You brought a change of clothes for tonight?" She teases.
"Yes, my best friend and I are going out dancing," I bubble excitedly.
"Oh, fun!" Keira squeals while the rest of the class filters in. "Where are you going?"
"Boondocks."
"Good evening," Mr. Benedict's warm bariton silences the room. "As promised, I have your papers graded and I will give them out towards the end of class. All in all, I was pleased with your work. You gave some very thoughtful arguments. However, if you have any questions about your grades or my comments, please feel free to visit me during my office hours."
Whispers ripple through the room as Mr. Benedict launches into his lecture.
Eventually, it's time for him to hand out papers.
"Now, I know you're all ready for the weekend," Mr. Benedict reminds us in his honey-coated voice, "But I'm here to add a touch of reality. On Monday there's going to be a test on Act One."
The class lets out a collective groan, but that doesn't stop them from smiling suggestively as Mr. Benedict passes out our assignments.
A renewed flutter of nerves hits my stomach when he approaches Keira and me.
I'm crushed, however, when he hands me a paper marked in red with a big, fat C-minus.
In four years, my grades have never fallen below a B!
"Moira, I'd like to see you after class?" Mr. Benedict's gentle question pulls me out of my stunned stupor.
Immediately hot tears prick the back of my eyes while shoving the essay deep into my bookbag as if to banish it from existence.
I'm so angry that I don't even answer him. I pinch my mouth shut and nod to fight the anger incinerating the butterflies in my stomach into ashy bile.
"What do you think he wants to talk to you about?" Keira whispers when Mr. Benedict is headed back up to the front of the room.
"Probably my crappy grade," I mumble.
"You got a low grade?" She inhales. "Wow, I thought you'd do well for sure!"
"Me too," I agree grimly and grit my teeth.
The rest of the room gathers up their stuff while chatting about their plans for the weekend.
I didn't want to talk to Mr. Benedict, let alone look at him.
I know I wrote a great essay. I had taken the time to cite my sources while making sure to stick to the formatting outlined in his syllabus. I couldn't imagine what I did to earn such a terrible mark.
As the rest of the class headed out I trudged up to the podium with my cheeks burning red and my head down.
I could feel Mr. Benedict's eyes searching my face. The pity in his stare boiled under my skin, but I still couldn't bring myself to look at him.
"Moira, I know you're upset," his contrition is a temporary balm on my crawling skin.
"Nope," I desperately avoid his gaze. "I'm fine."
"I wanted to talk to you about why I gave you a C," he continues, his tone soft.
"It was a C minus," I finally look up. "Actually."
His stormy blue eyes are tossing with remorse and resolve as if he couldn't decide which emotion should win out in this confrontation.
Will opened his perfect mouth for a second and then closed it again, studying my face.
I needed this class to finish, but I didn't need to be friends with my professor in order to do it.
"I have to go," I turn around and walk away to grab my garment bag and meet Keri in the parking lot.
"Wait, Moira, please," he pleads with an edge in his usually steadfast tone.
A long graceful hand brushes the exposed skin on my forearm where I've pushed the sleeves of my sweater up and I freeze. I snatch my arm away quickly and my eyes flick down to look at the goosebumps where Mr. Benedict touched me.
"I have to go," I repeat.
Mr. Benedict's eyes are probing, but like the angel she is, my phone begins to buzz in my pocket.
I know it's Keri calling from the parking lot. So, I fish my ancient iPhone out of my purse and hold it up as proof that I'm needed elsewhere.
Without another word, I turn on my heel and lope up the steps to my desk to retrieve my garment bag and get the hell out of there.
I wasn't capable of talking to Mr. Benedict about my terrible grade. I was too embarrassed and angry to even bother to stop the tears as they leaked out of the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision.
I hope he couldn't see me brushing them away as I pushed through the door to escape out into the night.