Chapter 15

Monday we studied together.

He made sure we actually studied. I don't think he did any studying before he came because he brought such a big stack of books in his book bag that it looked like he was carrying them to build up his muscles rather than to prepare for his courses.

"Why all the books? That's gotta be at least twice as many books as I have for all my courses."

"I'm taking a heavy load."

"How heavy?"

"I'd say about fifty pounds."

I rolled my eyes. I was waiting for the cigar and the magic word.

"Around 30 credits," he said.

"That's a full year."

"I'm not getting any younger. I've got to get through here and move on with my life."

"If you were any younger it wouldn't be legal for me to date you. I thought you skipped years of some of your courses."

"I skipped them but I don't get credit for them. I need to take the full four years worth of credits."

"Why are they letting you take so much?" I asked.

"I don't know. I guess they figure there are plenty of people to take my place."

No. I had learned in some business class that it's much easier to keep a customer than to get a new one. If they could sign us all up to go here for the rest of our lives, they would.

"What's the real reason?"

"Why does there have to be a reason?"

What was he hiding?

"There's always a reason." He was avoiding my eyes. "You know the reason. Tell me."

He was as reluctant to talk about this as most guys are to tell you their deepest feelings.

"Come on," I said.

"They're recruiting me for grad school."

"You're a first-term freshman."

His head was down. "I know."

Jen was right. Not only would I be telling everyone I knew, I'd be telling the limo driver, the mailman, our cook. If he was a freshman basketball player being recruited for the NBA, he would be full of himself.

Maybe it isn't legal for them to recruit a freshman. I don't know.

Jeff seemed embarrassed about it. I hoped he would stay that way. Well, not embarrassed, but not full of himself.

At times he whipped through the pages. Other times he would close a book, keeping place with his fingers and stare off into space as if he were thinking about, I don't know, a Star Trek convention, evaluating what he had just read. He was remarkably focused. I couldn't tell if he was aware I was in the room with him.

"I've had it," I said. "That's enough for one night for me."

For some reason, all this work had not left me very passionate.

"Want to watch the news?"

"Sure."

I turned on the TV and snuggled in his arms. It felt very nice.