Beyond What is Given(120)

Dean Miller, flanked by equal parts faculty and student disciplinary committee, cleared his throat before speaking. “Ms. Fitzgerald, we’ve spoken at length both about your offense and what you have suffered since. Is there anything you’d like to say before we discuss your future?”

I nodded my head and stood, holding on to the corner of the table with my fingertips. Don’t puke. “What I did that day was inexcusable. I’m not asking for consideration for the circumstances. I struck a member of the faculty, and I’ll accept whatever punishment you decide. Colorado is the only home I’ve ever really known. I came to UCCS so I could stay here, in what I love as my hometown. I’m just asking that you allow me to finish my degree here.”

My stomach tightened, regret washing over me with the force of an unbreakable tidal wave as I turned to face the back of the room where the Proctors sat. Michelle raised her chin, hatred evident in the set of her eyes. “I’m truly sorry for the pain I caused you,” I said to her, ignoring Harrison. “I never knew he was married, and if I could take it back, or take some of the pain away from you, I would. You don’t deserve what happened to you.”

She tore her gaze from mine, blinking back tears. What she’d done to me was reprehensible, but there was a small part of me that understood, and an even bigger part that already forgave her.

I turned back to the committee and remained standing.

Dean Miller gathered himself with a deep breath. “Ms. Fitzgerald, we do find that you struck a member of the University faculty. While there are extenuating circumstances, we feel that were we not to impose a punishment, it would be a detriment not only to you but to the university itself. However, we are not willing to lose a student like you. So we ask that you provide twenty hours of community service to the University, preferably by tutoring the lower sections of freshman math, while you finish your degree here at the University of Colorado.”

My eyes burned, and my throat closed. I managed a nod of my head and a broken “Thank you,” before the committee filed out.

It was over. I was free. I would graduate from CU.

The chair caught my weight as I collapsed, braced my elbows on the table, and let my head fall into my hands while I sucked in deep, gulping breaths. Then I folded my hands and sent up a heartfelt prayer of thanks for my second chance.

By the time I pulled myself together, the room had emptied completely. I slipped my arms into my coat, grabbed my purse, and closed the door on my way out. The sound was crisp, like the sound a book made as you shut it after the last page.

The sunshine welcomed me as I stepped out onto the walkway. The air tasted cleaner, my soul felt lighter. I started down the path and pulled out my cell phone.

Sam: I’m in. I have to tutor, but they let me back in!

Grayson: I knew they would. No one’s stupid enough to let you go.

With the burden of the hearing behind me, and my future open, the full weight of missing Grayson hit me. It was two fifteen p.m. on a Friday. If I went straight to the airport, I could make it to him by tonight and spend almost a week with him before classes started.

Yes. That’s what I’d do. Screw packing new clothes, I’d just wear his all week. I opened my internet browser to search for flights. It would eat up a chunk of my savings, but it was worth it. This month had been entirely too long.

Grayson: You seem pensive. What are you thinking?

Sam: That I miss you, and I’d do anything to sleep curled in your arms tonight.

A giddy smile took hold at the thought of surprising him. I walked a little faster.

Grayson: Funny. I was thinking the same thing.

Sam: Oh yeah? Just sleeping?

Grayson: Well, I’d love to slide my hands up that red skirt, but someone said no sex.

Sam: Maybe I could rethink the no sex thing…

I hit send, and then paused mid-step. Red skirt? Slowly, and so scared to be wrong, I lifted my eyes from the fabric of my skirt, skimming along the path until it converged with the one that led to the parking lot.

My eyes landed on a pair of black Doc Martins, then ran up a set of muscular legs encased in a pair of jeans that made my mouth water. He slid his cell phone into the front pocket of his black ski coat, and I made my way to his face, to the slow smile that lit up the darkest corners of my heart and chased the shadows into oblivion.

Grayson.

The thirty feet that separated us was all at once exquisitely painful, and I broke into a dead run, ice and all. I slipped the last couple of feet, but he lifted me into his arms before my balance could even register the danger.

My arms looped around his neck as he held me eye level. “You’re here?”

“I’m here.”

My eyes skimmed over his features, needing to memorize every single detail of this moment and file it away for the nights we were apart. This was why I loved him, this overwhelming feeling that defied all logic. There was just no way this much emotion could live within me.

“Why?”

His eyes looked almost silver in the sunlight, lighter than I’d ever seen them. “On the off chance you sent a text that you needed me. I knew today would be tough.”

“I love you,” I said before I kissed him. His lips were cold, but his tongue warm as he swept it into my mouth. He tasted like home, and as my pulse skipped, he banded one arm under my ass and used his other hand to wind his fingers through my hair until he held me to him.