Page 79 of Meet Me Back Here

Renting feels like freedom. I don’t understand where all this came from. We’ve been talking about our plans for months, and there’s never been a hint that they were only my plans.

I try to look at Forrest with anything other than disbelief.

I might throw up.

“Oh,” Forrest says, like he’s just remembered something. I wait for the next bomb to drop. “What did your professor want to talk about?”

It feels like that conversation was years ago, not half an hour ago.

“Nothing,” I sputter. “I did well on our last assignment. He was congratulating me.”

“That’s amazing!” Forrest says, but I feel hollow.

Forrest wraps me in his arms and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

“Thank you for understanding,” he murmurs.

Usually, in Forrest’s arms is where I feel safest. But right now, I feel blindsided.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

the kids are gonna be alright. it’s me. i’m the kids.

PRESENT

When I open the door to our little dorm room at the edge of the DCU campus, I can’t help but think of how different my reaction is now to seeing the one bed than it was just a couple short weeks ago at Mountain Sunrise. In fact, looking at the queen-size mattress, I think it might be too big for my liking. They should have left one of the little dorm room twin beds in here.

I want to koala all over that man—morning, noon, and night.

The room is small, but clean and functional. There are two rooms that I imagine used to be two single dorms connected by a bathroom. One is still a bedroom with a bed, dresser, and two nightstands, but the other has been converted into a sitting room with a couch, television, and a table with chairs. I expect the room mostly houses visiting high school students or families during parents’ weekend based on the heavy DCU décor they chose to put in here. Maybe it’s just for us and is otherwise used as a student dorm. Who knows?

I turn toward Forrest to find him looking apprehensively at a large, framed image of Prickly Pete cheering for who knows what. I suppose at us… since it faces the bed.

“I don’t know how I feel about having an audience,” Forrest says out of the corner of his mouth, like Pete can hear him. He drops his wallet and phone on the dresser but keeps an eye on Pete.

He pushes our bags against one wall, having carried all of them inside, and I step around him into the bathroom. I return with an extra towel a second later and drape it over the frame.

“Sorry, Pete. Exhibitionism isn’t my thing either,” I say. I haven’t even released the towel when Forrest’s arm snakes around me from behind, pulling me back against his chest.

“So what exactly is your thing then?” he whispers in my ear before holding my short hair aside and kissing the place where my neck meets my shoulder.

“Forrest,” I scold with a sigh. “I have to meet my professor for orientation.”

He follows his kiss with a bite, and I hum low in my throat.

“When’s that?” he asks, his lips still brushing my skin.

“Two,” I whisper, my eyes fluttering shut.

“And you probably want to shower before?”

“Mmhmm.” I think I nod. We were rushing to pack our old room this morning and disposing of all the birthday streamers in time for check out. A shower would be good.

“Excellent,” Forrest whispers before turning me around and hoisting me up, long fingers spanning my thighs under the skirt I chose this morning.

“What are you doing,” I ask slowly, looking over my shoulder as he starts walking us toward the bathroom.

“I’m helping you get ready for your meeting. You seem tense,” Forrest says, kissing me before I can retort. He releases one hand just to reach into the standing shower and turn on the water.