Kiss King - Mickey Miller Page 0,29

“Yeah, we started dating toward the end of Italy,” I explain.

A pang crops up in my stomach as I think about the interaction I just had with Grant. We’re just friends, though, we couldn’t be clearer about that. So why would I give it—or him—a second thought?

I shake off the feeling. “He’s been great.”

“And now you’re back on campus and dating. Well, lots of couples do meet abroad.”

“Yes, something about the romance of food and being surrounded by the history and romance of the Renaissance, I guess.”

Professor Flores straightens her glasses. “It can pull the wool over your eyes.”

My skin prickles. That’s not a normal thing for her to say. “What do you mean by that?” I ask.

“Oh, nothing, really. Umm, let’s shift to talking about classes. I saw the email you sent. So, you’re not going to join me?” She wiggles her eyebrows.

I grin. Professor Flores has been trying to sell me on declaring a major in her department, half-jokingly, since I began school here as one of her advisees. It’s a little running joke we have between us during our appointments. “Unfortunately, I am not going to major in World Literature. As much as I loved the lit class I took with you freshmen year, it’s just not my passion. And it’s time to officially declare it to the school registrar!”

“Well, that’s all right,” she winks. “It’s not for everyone. You want to study Art History and Business?”

I nod. “That’s right.”

“Hmm. Interesting combination.”

“My dad says if I’m going to do Art History, I need something practical to go along with that.”

“Wasn’t your dad the one who encouraged you to study Art History in the first place?”

I think for a moment. “Well, sure.”

She sits back in her chair and smiles. “Freshmen year, the first question I asked you, was ‘Why do you want to major in Art History?’ You said, ‘well, the other thing I was considering was a major in Visual Arts, but my dad doesn’t think ‘artist’ is something that you major in.”

“I don’t even remember saying that. Freshmen year is such a blur. After I found out my parents were getting a divorce, I was constantly distracted, to be honest.”

“Well, you did. So painting isn’t on your radar anymore?”

Alarm bells go off in my head as I think back to freshmen year. I painted all the time up until the divorce. The only one who knows that I’ve had a resurgence in my desire to paint is Grant.

I clear my throat. “It’s such a personal activity for me, and it’s not something I want to put out there for the world to judge, you know?”

“Makes sense. Art is really personal. So, you’re just going to do it as a hobby?”

“Yeah. Provided I can get into Business 101 this term.”

“Absolutely. There is a section this term, although Professor Renford is a little bit of a…” Professor Flores trails off, and it seems like she’s searching for a way to be diplomatic. “A pill, I think is the word I’m looking for. But I’m sure you can charm her. Let me check…yep! Looks like she’s got the winter term section of that class and it’s got a few spots open. Surprise, surprise.”

“Sign me up!”

“And your new advisor will be Professor Santorello. Fun fact, I think he also coaches baseball. He’s the pitching coach, assistant to the head Coach Johnson.”

“I’ve heard good things about him.”

“Yeah, he’s really laid back.”

She looks over at me, smiling. “All right, then, Maya. I’m going to click the button. Once I do, your major is declared and your life changes forever. You’ll graduate here in two-and-a-half more years with an Art History major and Business minor. You can’t unclick the button!”

“Really?!”

“No, I’m joking. You can always change your mind.”

I watch with my mouth hanging open as her hand hovers over the mouse. She must notice that I have something hanging on the tip of my tongue.

“Everything okay?”

My nostrils flare. “You ever get that funky feeling in your stomach, and you’re not sure what it means?”

“Why, sure.” Professor Flores says. “When I was first engaged at nineteen, I just got this weird feeling in my bones like he wasn’t the right one.”

“Why not?!”

She shrugs. “Well, if you ask me logically…it wasn’t that he forgot things. But he did. For some reason I didn’t feel special with him.”

“Are you seeing anyone now?”

She shakes her head. “No. I’ve been focused on taking care of myself. And traveling around the country every couple years for grad school and