Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother novel Chapter 58

Chapter 58: Penny

If I have to look at one more polynomial function, I will set my notebook on fire and use it to roast marshmallows over the flames of my lost academic ambitions.

We’re halfway through class and I swear I’ve been writing the same sentence over and over. My notes look like they were scribbled by a caffeinated chicken. I tap my pen on the side of my iced coffee, the condensation soaking into the edge of my notebook, and try to focus.

‘Don’t forget, the inverse of a composite function requires careful substitution- the professor drones, as if we’re all just thrilled to be alive at 10:30 AM doing this.

I stare at the whiteboard, trying to convince myself that this is important. That this is knowledge I will absolutely need one day when, I don’t know, I’m applying the quadratic formula while being chased by wild dogs or something.

The lecture continues. So does my note–taking, or at least the act of pretending to take notes while my brain quietly exits stage left.

I’m doing my best, okay?

I even manage to underline something.

Then my phone buzzes in my lap.

I glance down quickly, guilt tensing my shoulders like I’m about to be caught cheating during a final exam. I angle the screen just slightly, like I’m in some sort of covert spy film, and see a message.

Tyler:

Class ended early. Heading home to start packing. You okay to walk back alone?

That makes me smile – not the walking alone part, but the fact that he asked. It’s sweet. Thoughtful.

My fingers hover over the keyboard for a second before I respond.

Me:

Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for checking in.

I hit send. Pause.

Then, against better judgment, I type again.

Me:

Also… sorry about earlier.

I stare at the screen. There’s no immediate reply.

The professor’s now talking about piecewise functions, but all I can think about is how long it’s taking for three gray dots to appear. I know he saw it. Tyler always sees it.

When my phone finally buzzes again, my eyes dart to it.

Tyler:

It’s okay. Just… give them a chance.

I exhale. Not quite relief, but something close to it. My shoulders slump just a little as I type back:

Me;

Chapter 58: Penny

Okay.

It’s one word, but it holds so much I don’t know how to put into sentences yet. I don’t know how to explain that I want to be the chill girlfriend who gets along with the girls. That I want to feel like part of the group. That I want to be good enough.

But also that my gut is screaming something’s wrong. And I’ve learned not to ignore that.

Class wraps up not long after, and I slide my notebook into my bag, loop it over my shoulder, and head toward the front doors of campus.

The sky’s clear today, light wind tugging gently at my hair, and for a second I let myself enjoy it. Just breathe. Just walk.

Until someone steps right into me.

It’s not a full collision, more like an awkward bump of shoulders and notebooks.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I say quickly, stepping back.

“No, no, that was totally me,” the guy says, laughing as he catches his balance.

He’s tall. Like Asher tall. And blonde, with one of those effortless sports team haircuts and a dimple that appears when he smiles. He’s wearing the same athletic jacket Tyler has – navy and gold with our school’s crest stitched into the sleeve.

“You on the soccer team?” I ask, nodding at the jacket.

“Football,” he says with a grin.

I nod, about to keep moving, when he hesitates – and then jogs a few steps to catch up with me.

“Wait is your name Penelope?”

I pause, immediately on guard. “…Yes?”

“You’re the ballet dancer, right?”

Now I’m really confused. “I am. How do you know that?”

He gives a sheepish smile. “My little sister just started ballet last year, She saw one of your charity recitals and was obsessed. Like, she talked about you for a week straight. She even tried to do one of your pirouettes in the living room and kicked over a lamp.”

I blink. “Oh.”

“She’d lose her mind if I told her I met you. Could I, uh- is it cool if I take a photo? To show her?”

I laugh

not mean, more disbelieving. “You want to take a picture with me?”

He shrugs. “It’d make her really happy.”

And… okay, I’m not made of stone. That’s cute.

“Sure,” I say.

He pulls out his phone, we pose awkwardly – he’s clearly not trying to make it weird, but I feel the heat blooming in my cheeks anyway. After the click, be shows it to me and grins.

“Perfect. Thanks so much.”

I nod, still kind of dazed. “Tell your sister I said hi.

He waves as he heads off, and I stand there a second longer, letting it all settle.

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