She Will Be Mine (New Horizon Book 2)

Chapter 4: The Graduate

Ronnie

Now that graduation day is finally here, it’s like I’ve forgotten how to use my own body. My hands won’t quit shaking, and everything anyone has said to me today has been met with strange, awkward, nervous laughter.

I didn’t expect this from myself, not for something like this. I didn’t even want to be a part of this stupid ceremony and only agreed because it seems important to my mom. But to me, the important part of graduating is the diploma, which I won’t even be getting today. Not the real one anyway. That will come in the mail in a couple weeks.

Everything from my room is all packed up and stowed away in my car now, other than the clothes I will wear today. Returning from my last shower in the bathroom here to such a strangely vacant room devoid of all personal effects and décor only makes me feel more nervous.

I suppose that makes some sense though. After today, I won’t be coming back to this room ever again, though this room has been my home for years. It’s familiar and comforting, but everything after today is unknown and uncertain, and I still have the ceremony to get through.

Taking a deep breath and forcing myself to calm down, I make my way over to the full-length mirror attached to the wall by my closet. I suppose it doesn’t really matter how I look today since I’ll just be throwing my graduation robes on over top of this outfit, but I’ve never been one to skimp on the details.

I can’t help grimacing when I catch sight of myself, though. This dress my mom picked out for today seems to accent all the wrong places, the very ones that the extra weight I’ve put on over my years here clings to.

It’s funny because I always assumed that hanging around werewolves would be a disaster for my waistline because of their supernatural appetites and metabolisms, but it seems more like being away from them is the real problem. Without them here forcing me to eat small meals several times a day and encouraging me to step away from my desk every now and then, I’ve put on a few pounds. And considering that I’m only a couple inches over five feet tall, every pound is both felt and seen.

“At least the robe will cover all this,” I mutter out loud.

I’m still contemplating whether it’s worth going down to my car in the parking lot and digging out something else to wear when I hear a brisk knock on my propped-open door. Glancing up, I can’t help smiling, despite my dress-fitting woes.

“You’re here early,” I greet my mom, stepping toward her for a hug.

“Yep. The sitter showed up early, so I thought maybe I could zoom over here in time to take you to lunch before the ceremony,” she explains, stroking my hair and giving me that mushy-with-pride look that parents always pull out for occasions like this.

I always roll my eyes and pretend I hate her fawning over me, but secretly I love it. I feel proud of myself for managing to find a way to make her smile like that. My mom is a warm person, but so often the happiness that she projects outward seems forced. Her smiles rarely ever reach all the way to her eyes, except on days like this.

“I’d love that, but it’s a bad idea,” I warn her. “The dining halls will be packed today, and so will the restaurants. All parents are thinking the same thing you are.”

“I suppose that’s a good point that I wish I would have thought of before now.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got lunch covered.”

She watches with interest as I go over to the top drawer of my dresser and take out the last of my loaf of bread, some packets of peanut butter and jelly, and a plastic knife.

“Perfect,” she laughs with amusement. “It reminds me of when you were little. We ate like this a lot back then.”

She says it cheerfully, but I know better. We ate a lot of sandwiches for breakfast, lunch, and dinner some weeks. Back then, she was still struggling to find a job that was accommodating of her being a single parent but paid enough to be worth it. Eventually, she gave up and started waiting tables and bartending at the same place that she still works to this day.

“Sorry, it’s all I have left here, and I wasn’t expecting company,” I tell her apologetically.

“No, don’t be. I love it,” she assures me, giving me one of her brave smiles. I hate how quickly I managed to rob her of that genuine elation she walked in with.

“I have to be over to the auditorium a bit early anyway. The music director roped me into playing for what she calls the ‘pre-show’ that some of the music students are doing. They had someone else lined up, who is now sick, and she came to me because of my sightreading skills,” I inform her between sticky bites of sandwich, effectively changing the topic. “I have nothing but regret for that summer I spent taking electives through the music department because otherwise, she never would have known about that.”

“Oh, stop,” Mom scolds me teasingly. “I’m glad you at least let yourself have a little fun while you were here. Maybe it has nothing to do with your degree program, but you love music. You needed that little vacation from all the facts and figures, and I distinctly remember you being pretty excited about the performance at the end of those classes.”

“True,” I concede. “But that was much smaller than this. We’re talking about playing for a packed auditorium this time.”

“Nah, not for the pre-show. You’ve done stuff like this before at church. It sounds like you’ll be playing while everyone is coming in and probably not even paying much attention to you.”

“Also true.”

“Finish your sandwich and brush your teeth,” she commands just like she did when I was a child, her eyes bright and sparkling at me again.

-

-

Jason

I decide to show up early to the auditorium where the commencement ceremony is being held, partly because I’ve never been to an event with so many humans and I’d rather have them trickle in as I gradually adjust to all the strange scents, but mostly because I’m too excited to sit still and can’t stand pacing the length of my hotel room any longer. Luckily for me, Aly gave me her ticket, which means I get to sit on the ground level nearer the graduates, and it also means that no one cares if I show up early since I’m carrying a special VIP pass that means I’m a close friend or family member of one of the graduates.

Once I get inside the auditorium, I’ve never been gladder to have given in to a last-minute impulse. I can already smell Ronnie’s incredible scent, and it’s strong enough that I think it might even be coming from this room. As I’m making my way through the rows of still mostly vacant seats, scanning the people and trying to find her, a small group of graduates on the stage starts singing. I glance up to see what’s going on up there, and my heart starts skipping beats when I catch sight of the girl sitting at the piano.

It’s her. Her hair is longer, a bit lighter at the ends than I remember, but it’s definitely her. Even though she’s swimming in her oversized graduate gown, I can see the petite form underneath and recognize the stiff posture she gets when she’s nervous. I can’t help smiling when I catch a glimpse of the glasses she still wears, my eyes transfixed on her to the point that I’m not even paying attention to the music she’s playing or what’s going on around me.

“Do you need some assistance with finding your seat?” I hear a quiet voice ask from beside me, forcing me out of my trance.

“Uh, sure,” I tell the man, but not because I actually need his help.

The seating here isn’t difficult to figure out. But since I was just standing there gawking for a few minutes, it’s probably the answer that makes me seem the least creepy and out of place.

He glances at the numbers on my ticket and leads me forward a few more rows, stopping at the one marked “Row N 101-120” before turning around to face me.

“Here you are, sir,” he tells me politely, gesturing to the right of him. “Your seat is there next to the woman in blue.”

“Thank you,” I answer, looking over at the woman he pointed out.

He nods and turns on his heel, already moving on to the next lost sheep who might need his services, but I’m still studying the woman as I slowly make my way through the row of seats.

She looks enough like Ronnie that I’m wondering if she’s a relative of hers here to see her graduate, which would explain why our seats are right next to each other. Aly didn’t warn me about that, though I suppose I should have stopped to consider the possibility that I’d have to face my mate’s family today. I just hope they don’t hate me on sight.

“Hello,” the woman greets me politely when I pause in front of the seat beside her. “Do you need me to let you through?”

“No, this is my seat,” I explain before awkwardly making a move to sit in it.

I didn’t flip it down first, hoping instead that leaning my weight on it would pull the seat down to where it needs to be as I drop myself into it. It does, though not as smoothly as I pictured in my head. I probably looked a bit childish doing that. Great first impression, Jason.

“Oh, which graduate are you here to see?” she asks me, not even seeming to care about how I seated myself. “I don’t know how they organized seating, whether it’s by degree program, alphabetically by last name, or something else. So, I’m just curious. My daughter’s last name starts with K and her degree is pre-law with a minor in economics. How about your graduate?”

This is definitely someone related to Ronnie. Her last name is Koppel, and that’s her exact degree program. I can’t help smiling about how much the woman reminds me of Ronnie too, sitting here contemplating the method behind the seating arrangement as if she just needs it to make sense before she can move on with her life.

“I think we might be here for the same person,” I admit somewhat shyly, already feeling my face flush. “Veronica Koppel?”

“Oh,” she seems surprised, and I would even wager a guess that it’s suspicion I see flash across her eyes. “I’m sorry. We haven’t met. I’m her mother, Vivian. And you are?”

She’s holding her hand out to me as if for a friendly shake, but I’m not blind to how quickly she shifted from a warm and inviting stranger to the suspicious, defensive mother wondering who this guy is who claims to know her daughter and why she has never heard of him.

“Jason Levitt. I believe you know my boss, Alyssa Bentley. She sent me in her place since she’s a bit preoccupied with her newborn triplets these days.”

“Oh,” Vivian says again, seeming to consider me a moment. “Does Ronnie even know you?”

“We’ve met, though I would wager a guess that I have far more affection for her than she does me,” I reveal before thinking too much about how that must sound.

Stupid, stupid Jason. That was exactly the wrong thing to say. Now I really sound like a creep.

But to my surprise, Vivian’s expression softens at that admission. She seems to feel nothing but pity toward me now. I’m not sure whether that’s better or worse, though.

“Ronnie is a very driven, focused girl. I’ve never had to worry too much about her getting involved with boys because it seems to be the furthest thing from her mind,” she explains sympathetically. “So, don’t take it personally.”

I don’t really know what to say to that. She’s exactly right, and I get the sense that she caught on to what I meant. I’ve been crushing on her daughter, not the other way around.

But still, anything I say now is only going to upset her or make myself sound desperate and pathetic, which I’m sure isn’t a good look for me. I also don’t want to tell her more about my relationship with Aly or why she might have thought sending me was a good idea.

“Thanks,” is all I come up with before going quiet, directing my attention back to watching Ronnie on stage. It’s what I’m here for anyway.

I can feel Vivian continue to study me, though. She may have opted to be kind and sympathetic to my face, but that underlying suspicion about the guy who is interested in her daughter is definitely still bubbling just below the surface.

“Maybe it had nothing to do with the graduates, and everything to do with the order they reserved their tickets in,” I add after a few tense, silent moments. “The seating assignments, I mean.”

My hope is to distract her from me by reminding her of the train of thought she had been pursuing when I first got here.

“You know, I hadn’t considered that,” she muses softly, glancing around at the seats that are continuing to fill up around us. “But you might be right. That does make the most sense.”

We’re quiet again for a bit until she says, “I wish my parents could be here to see what a special young lady their granddaughter has turned out to be.”

“They won’t be coming?” I wonder aloud, not quite sure what she’s alluding to. I can’t tell if she’s saying they’re deceased or just busy, or maybe they live too far away.

“No,” she says curtly.

I have parents of my own, and I know that sort of response means we won’t be discussing it any further than that. I’m curious about Ronnie and all the people close to her, of course, but it occurs to me that her mother might not be the best person to be prying those details out of.

“You don’t know her very well, do you,” she comments a few moments later.

No, I don’t. And now I’m wondering if this whole conversation that started with the mention of her grandparents was a test of some sort. One that I’m quite obviously failing.

“Honestly, no. She’s a tough one to get close to,” I admit to her after very carefully considering my response. “I don’t know much about her family, and I had no idea she played piano before now,” I gesture to the stage.

I don’t know why, but it feels important to prove to her that I at least know that’s Ronnie up there. I’m not a complete stranger like she must be thinking by this point.

“But I do know some things,” I continue in my defense. “Like I know that she loves reading and hates cooking.”

“She cooks all the time,” she argues back at me. “And she’s quite skilled at it.”

I can’t seem to say anything to this woman without somehow stepping in all her traps and defensive measures. Though I know I’m right about what I said since I still have the text saved in my phone and I’ve read it at least a thousand times, I’m not about to fight with my mate’s mother about it.

Aly’s warning to not screw this up keeps playing in my mind. I feel like all I’m doing is screwing this up. I need to somehow find a way out of this conversation, and fast.

“I guess I don’t really know much about her at all,” I concede finally, though it stings to have to say that out loud.

I’m right about the cooking at least, but the truth of it is I really don’t know much. I’ve tried to pry details out of Aly, and she’ll give me some little things to cling to, but she keeps telling me that it isn’t fair for her to be the one to reveal all that to me. And she’s right, but I still hate that even after over two years, I barely know my own mate.

Instead of giving me a verbal response, Vivian gives me a look that I can’t quite read. It’s possible that she’s questioning how well she knows her own daughter now too, but that could also just be what I hope she’s doing. Eventually, she turns her head to watch Ronnie play some more, and I do the same.