Who I Am With You (Imagination #10) - Staci Stallings Page 0,91

at her as the guys talked, but thankfully, she never said anything. It was lonely when you were only there because the others took pity on you, and no matter how much someone tried to include you, it was never more than temporary.

When the meal was over, Greg hung back to talk with the guys about stopping for groceries long enough that Taylor left with Ryan and Clara. Putting what they needed in his phone, he assured them they didn’t have to worry. And by the time he got to the parking lot, he didn’t have to worry either. She was long gone.

The whole night and all the way through Stats the next morning, Taylor worried about Chem II. She didn’t know why, but something was off about Greg. At least she thought it had been until he got there.

“I got a call,” he said as she slid into her desk.

Her worry shifted. “Everything all right?”

“I was halfway here, and they called me in for an interview today.”

All of the other stuff dropped away. “Greg, that’s great.”

“Great?” he asked in distress. “No, it’s not great. They want me there by 12:30, and I’m supposed to work at two.”

“So you go home and change, get over there, do the interview, and then go to work.” Taylor didn’t see the problem.

“But I’m not ready. I don’t know what to say to them. I don’t have my resume or a cover letter or recommendation letters, nothing.”

“Don’t they have that in their system?”

“I don’t know! I’m freaking out here.”

“I can see that. Okay, well, why don’t we head to your place right after class? I can print the stuff out while you get ready. It’s still on your computer, right?”

“I think so. I don’t know. Maybe I should just call and cancel.”

“No. You are not canceling.”

The professor walked in. “Settle down, everyone. It’s time to get started.”

“Calm down,” Taylor mouthed to him, and she held him with her eyes. “Breathe.”

“Easy for you to say.”

The second the professor said, “Dismissed,” Taylor took full control of the situation. “Did you walk or drive?”

“I walked.”

“Okay, well, then we’d better hit it. We’re not going to have much time.”

The walk home was the fastest one he’d ever taken, and when they got to the house, Greg’s nerves shot off the Richter Scale.

“You go get ready,” Taylor said. “Here, give me this.” She slid her backpack to the ground and took his. “I’ll get in your laptop and find the resume and stuff. Go!” she said when he didn’t leave immediately.

Going to the back, he rifled through his closet. What to wear. What to wear.

“What’s your passcode?”

There was no reason to hide it, so he called it to her from his room. Quickly, he mostly-shut the door in case she asked anything else, and he yanked one set of clothes off before throwing something else on. Looking in the mirror, he debated. Yes. No. Maybe so.

“Why is everything just all together? Do you not use folders for anything? Good grief. How do you find anything on this thing?”

“I think it’s got the hospital’s name on it.”

“Here it is,” she said as he came out in gray slacks and a navy blue shirt.

“How’s this?” he asked, putting his hands out for her inspection.

“Good.”

“Great.” Back in the room, he selected the only two complimenting ties. “Plaid or stripes?” he asked her as he turned the corner to where she was chewing on her nail waiting for the file to load.

She glanced up. “Stripes. Definitely the stripes.”

“Stripes it is.”

“Is this thing hooked to the printer?” she called.

“Yeah.”

“K. I found the resume. Hm. I should add… You’ve been there since August, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And… blub, blub, blub,” she made unintelligible noises as she race-read through the rest of it. “And… print. You want the cover letter too?”

“I don’t know. Read it. I have no idea what I said in it,” he called. In the bathroom, he sprayed the water in his hair before going for the gel. It wasn’t going to be great, but it would be presentable.

“You mind if I change something on this?”

“Go for it. Just make it sound like I wrote it.” His shoes from Saturday were still within reach in the closet and he yanked them on.

“Same references?” she asked.

“Does it say something about references available?”

“Yeah?”

“Do that. Maybe I can get a couple from the radiology department.”

“Good idea. And… print. Are you hungry?”

“Don’t know,” he said, coming back down the hallway as ready as he could get. “Ah, dang it.” With