All of my writing is fiction and the stories and characters are all products of my imagination. They were created for my fun and, hopefully, your enjoyment. Some of the events in the stories are not particularly condoned nor encouraged by the author but are there to create and enhance the story of the imaginary characters and their lives. Comments are always encouraged and carefully reviewed. All characters within the story that need to be are 18 years of age or older. Hope you enjoy!
This is the second part of a three-part story about Freya and the beginning of her sophomore year at college. It involves her family and some of the men she meets, the difficult decisions involved with that, and the results of those decisions. Part two will be published in about ten days and part three ten days after that. Feel free to leave comments. I use them to help with future stories.
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At school early, Freya spent an hour studying, then decided to text Jarrod, thinking a while about what to say. She decided a short apology might be in order, along with a little humor.
Jarrod so sorry again about the other day. Let's have lunch at the same time and place today, my treat. I'll skip wonderful fries as penance for my behavior. :)
She sent the text and went back to her studies, knowing that it might be a while before she got an answer. Her eyes had barely focused on the first page before her phone buzzed. She grabbed it and looked.
will b there but only if u eat fries
She replied.
deal
She finished studying, went to class, and finally to the Burgermeister Room to wait for Jarrod, who didn't keep her waiting long.
"Hi," he said, his huge, warm smile swallowing her.
"Hello. Sit down and I'll g-get the food if you're happy w-with what we had the last time."
"You just sit there," he said, holding out his hand. "Give me the money, and I'll get the lunch."
She handed him the change from AutoZone; he gave most of it back to her and headed for the ordering counter. Freya debated about what to say when he returned. Finally decided, she watched him winding his way around the tables, carefully balancing the food tray. She was anxious to dig into the fries again. Jerrod sat down, looking at her carefully, perhaps apprehensively.
"To respond to wh-what you asked the other day, the dinner went well, my b-brother and I sang, and he proposed to his girlfriend. It was mostly a good evening."
"Not sure I like your shirt today," he laughed.
She looked down, not sure which one she'd worn; plus she was reading it upside-down.
Dating tip — Don't
. She couldn't help but laugh. This wasn't a date, but the idea was certainly there. With what had happened with Grig, she wasn't certain she was interested in a date with Jerrod. She was tempted to say she had picked it just for today but quickly decided that might be a little over-the-top. Instead, she took a bite of her burger, which was good, but not quite up to the standard the fries set.
"Listen," Jarrod said, putting two fries in his mouth, "I'm glad everything went okay last night, and I'm anxious to hear you sing." He raised his eyebrows in a smile.
"You're willing t-to risk me getting angry again?" she teased.
"Worth the risk," he answered, "and thanks for lunch." He held his burger up toward her. I think you look great in a T-shirt."
She felt her cheeks reddening again. "Thanks. You're very kind. That's normal for me, instead of being a little formal."
"Your normal, instead of formal, huh? You should be a poet."
She laughed, thinking back to what Flint had said to her just a while ago. "If I were, I wouldn't be p-popular since rhyming is kind of something from the past these days."
"I don't know. Have you ever tried it, rhyming poetry?"
A bit of a questioning frown from Freya. "Never, except when I was nine or ten, I guess, and reading Dr. Seuss."
"I had to write a couple for an English class. It was harder than I thought it might be. It's hard to make the lines rhyme, make sense, and sound like natural language, so readers almost forget that it's rhyming. Mine weren't very good."
"I think that makes sense. I've heard people say that writing poetry is a craft if it's done correctly." Freya had enjoyed studying certain poetry in her English classes; others of it, she had detested.
"A lot of rhyming poetry is also form poetry; it follows a pattern of some kind that has to be adhered to, so there's a craft involved in doing that. After I tried to do that, and couldn't, I started reading some things by the good poets. I like Robert Frost, really well."
"I remember some things from Frost that I-I studied in English class.
The Lockless Door
was my favorite, p-probably because it was so simple."
"One of mine too," Jarrod replied. But Freya could tell he was pondering something and wondered whether it might be coming her direction.
"I'm going to say two things, the first to get ready for the second," he laughed.
Freya looked at him with one eye half-closed, ready for whatever he might say. She was afraid he was going to ask her for a date, and she had no reply prepared for that.
"First, you don't have any idea how many times I sat in that Starbucks watching you and Amber drinking coffee and talking. I, well, I just couldn't take my eyes off you."
"That's twice you've embarrassed me n-now," she said, smiling at him, but enjoying his words. It wasn't how she thought of herself but to have someone else say it was very nice.
"The second is," and he hesitated a moment, mid-sentence, "does your mother bother you like that, about your, um, stuttering?" He had said it and looked ready for whatever.
"Let me ask you first, w-what do you think about it?" After all the years of stuttering, she had gotten a little more comfortable talking about it with others.
Caught unaware, Jerrod thought for a moment. "I love it," he said. "It just makes you special and different than anyone else I know."
"You d-don't know anyone else that stutters?"
"In elementary school, there were a couple, a boy and a girl, I think. But nothing since. Until you."
A lot more relaxed about it now, Freya decided to continue what she had started.
"To answer your question, yes, my mother de-detests it. She has always finished sentences for me if I'd stumble a little t-too long. She wouldn't let me talk at all s-some places, and I would never order . . ." Her mouth was working, and she was trying, but that word wouldn't come out, as always. "What I was drinking yesterday," she finished, trying to smile.
"Cappuccino?"
"Yes, I can't say that, and Amber s-said it for me yesterday, to keep me from looking silly in f-front of you."
"Are there other words you can't say?"
She lowered her head and raised her eyebrows, grinning at him.
"Oh, shit. What a stupid question. I'm sorry. Maybe I should stick to embarrassing you about how pretty you are and leave the rest alone."
"You think that?" she questioned. Jarrod's easy manner had her more relaxed as well.
"Oh my gosh. My last girlfriend was a redhead too, but not like you for sure."
