Special thanks to my editor, samuraisan. We decided the only thing we can't agree on is comma usage, so if you feel there's a few of those out of place here, blame me, not him. (He'll probably have an issue with that last sentence.) Other than that, he's been instrumental in... well, just about everything I've published from 2017 until now, and a ton of net-yet-finished drafts sitting on my hard drive. Also a big thanks to thatsbogus, whose gentle prodding and encouragement have gotten me off the bench and back in the game. He's also a writer on this site -- go find him and read everything. You won't regret it.
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The Scavenger Hunt: Chapter 4
Frat Folks--
Lexi Briggs, Motor Skills & Development, Objective 7. Thursday morning, during the swim class she teaches, in the pool.
TT
I sent the e-mail a few hours after I left the pool, but there was no response until the following morning. It came in while I was half-dozing through yet another anatomy lecture. I'd been studying so much anatomy up close lately that I could probably teach the class on my own.
Pledge Temple--
The swim class is not one of your classes. Therefore, it doesn't count.
CAU AKP
Short and to the point -- and also incorrect. I fired back immediately.
Frat Folks--
Read your task e-mail again. Objective 7 simply states "Sex during a class." It doesn't specify that it has to be one of MY classes.
TT
I thought it would take a long time to get a response. I watched another half hour tick off the clock, then saw the inbox tab on my e-mail go bold again.
Pledge Temple--
Fair point. We should have considered the language in the task more carefully. We are quite certain you knew the spirit of the law, but as your encounter does satisfy the letter of the law, we will allow it to count for Objective 7 and your Motor Skills class (once verified).
CAU AKP
I only had a few seconds to be satisfied with my tiny victory, when the fire alarm went off.
"All right, all right everyone," the professor said, sounding as annoyed by the interrupting fire drill as the students were elated by it. "Everyone leave the room in an orderly fashion, and leave all your personal belongings. They'll be here when you get back."
I actually liked this professor, so I resisted the temptation to laugh out loud, but I still rolled my eyes. If there ever really was a fire in the building, most of us in this third-story classroom would be goners, because exactly nobody left their personal stuff behind. Anyone who had laptops out packed them away, and even the few studious ones stowed their notebooks before they got up. It was only 10 minutes before the end of class, anyway, so no one was coming back.
We moved down the stairs like a herd of elephants. I'd just stepped off the last stair before the second-floor landing when a female bowling ball crashed into me.
"What the--" was all I could say -- I was far too busy trying to ensure that both she and I didn't hit the deck and get trampled on. It was clear that her intrusion wasn't intentional -- she was definitely pissed at someone, but it wasn't me.
"God, Mike, you're such a fucking dumbass," she exclaimed. She was Laci Daniels, one of my classmates and a member of the CAU dance squad. The Mike in question was a football player, already halfway down the stairs at this point.
"Did you try to play chicken with the left tackle, Laci?" I asked. I had her wrapped in a tight bear hug with one arm, while my other arm pushed off the nearest wall. She shot a brief smile at my quip.
"He was joking about how he'd be acting if this really was a fire, and started flailing his arms around like an idiot," she said. Then, she raised her voice and directed it down the stairs: "If all our offensive linemen are as uncoordinated as your goofy ass, no wonder our football team sucks!"
She got a few laughs from the other people heading down the stairs, and a couple of choice insults from Mike and his teammates down below. Once the stampede had passed, I set her on her feet. She could have backed away, but chose not to.
"Thanks for breaking my fall," she breathed. "Did you get hurt?"
"Nah, I'm good," I said. "Quick reflexes. I'm glad you weigh about 78 pounds, though, or that could have been ugly for us both. Next time just run him over with your car or something."
Laci was maybe 5-foot-3 and 100 pounds submerged in a swimming pool. She had dark, curly hair and was presently wearing way too much makeup. We had a couple classes together last semester, and one other one this term. I'd talked to her a handful of times, and she'd been my lab partner once or twice. She seemed friendly and fun, but I'd never taken a shot at her for whatever reason.
She decided she was going to take a shot at me, apparently, because instead of pulling away from me, she gave me a classic package check. That particular part of my body wasn't all that inspired when she made contact, but by the time she let it go, it was awake and checking out its surroundings.
"Very nice," she whispered. "You'll have to let me thank you for being my landing cushion sometime soon."
"I definitely will," I said, watching with an amused expression as she continued down the stairs. I hadn't even started thinking about the next objective for my pledge task yet, but apparently, it had been thinking about me.
********
The following day was Saturday, which meant my afternoon picnic with Beth. I'd told her she could invite Taylor, but this was one of the few weekends where the baseball and softball schedules differed -- we were off for the weekend, but the softball team had a series in Georgia.
So it was just Beth and I, sitting on a blanket in the middle of a city park, eating a basket of homemade fried chicken and sipping on a bottle of 2-dollar wine. I thanked my lucky stars that the weather had decided to warm up some this weekend -- if it was still in the mid-40s, Beth likely would have worn more than just a white flower-printed tank top and yellow shorts that barely reached mid-thigh. Keeping all that smooth, creamy skin under wraps would have been a crime.
We'd made small talk during the walk from the parking area to our picnic spot, but once she broke out the food, my mind had been unavailable for conversation. As soon as I'd taken a bite of her chicken, I was in heaven. I'd told her as much as soon as I'd swallowed, but I'd spent the next few minutes devouring as much of it as I could. She'd actually kept up fairly well -- I'd eaten 5 or 6 pieces, and she was on her fourth.
"Jesus, Beth," I said once we'd finished our feast. "I haven't had fried chicken that good since... hell, maybe my grandma's is that good, and I'm only saying that because I'm sure that woman can hear me even from her living room in North Carolina."
She giggled, displaying pearly white teeth and a playful smile.
"Smart man," she said. "And thank you. It's my mama's recipe. I'm still trying to perfect it."