Extra Credit | Complete

42

Calista

It was late when I made my way back to campus from Lincoln's house. I pulled into the desolate dorm parking lot. As I placed Ella's car in park, I sighed. I hadn't planned to stay as late as I did. But I found it hard to say goodbye. After a week or so of not seeing Lincoln, I wanted to soak up all the time I could with him. I felt like an addict going through withdrawals. He had a je ne sais quoi about him—something that drew me in.

At some point during the night I offered to change his bandages. The memory of the hard plains of his chest had me thinking of all the unspeakable things that I would have liked to do to his body. My mind wandered to the night we spent together. Heat rose to the back of my neck.

What the hell is he doing to me?

I slapped my palms over my cheeks. I had to reign in my wild thoughts. Ella, if she was already home, was like a bloodhound for this kind of thing. The last thing I needed was for her to sniff out my hormones and tease me about it for the rest of the weekend.

Propping the driver's side open, I slipped out into the crisp winter night. Besides the wind, I didn't hear a sound. The rest of campus was dead quiet, almost eerie. I shut the car door with a bang and fixed my jacket around me a little bit tighter.

Ella's car beeped as I commenced the short walk around to the front of the dorm building. I fixed my bag higher up on my shoulder as I trudged through the layer of snow that had built up on the sidewalk. Sparse lamp posts lit the path around the building, casting shadows across the walkway in an unsettling way. I wasn't a fan of walking through campus this late on my own. Even if it was a short stint to my dorm building from the quad. The thought, along with the cold nipping at my cheeks, had me picking up my pace as I neared the quad.

As I rounded the corner towards the front of the building a man wearing a red baseball cap came into view. A cigarette rested between his fingers. He leaned against the brick wall of the dorm building in a dark varsity jacket. The light by the front doors illuminated his face. A thick stubble coated his chin. He couldn't be any younger than forty. I could have been wrong, but something was telling me he wasn't a student.

The metal of Ella's keys felt chilling in my hands as I manoeuvred one of them between my fingers. With my keycard in my other hand, I tried my best to seem unbothered as I made my way towards the swipe pad.

"You're Calista, right?"

The unease spread. I paused mid step, turning towards him. "I am."

"Sorry, did I spook you?" If the glint in his eye was anything to go off of, the apology wasn't sincere. A stream of smoke poured from his mouth. "I can see why he's got such a hard on for you."

"Excuse me?"

He stuffed one of his hands in the pocket of his jeans. "I know Lincoln. Pretty well actually."

Sirens were going off in my head in warning. But because I couldn't shut the polite part of my brain off I responded. "Oh, do you take classes with him?"

"We go way back, but we've reconnected over boxing."

"That's cool," I replied, inching a few steps closer to the door. "Do you train him or something?"

"Or something," he snickered after taking another long drag of his cigarette. "He could probably learn a thing or two from me, but the boy's got that raw talent. It's hard to come by these days—with society going soft and all."

I offered him a laugh as I reached the swipe pad. "Yeah, well, I should get inside—"

"Actually," he said as he pointed a finger in my direction. He took a step forward and it took everything in me not to turn around and run. "I'm glad I bumped into you. I had something I wanted to talk to you about."

I swallowed. "Me?"

"I would have run it by Lincoln, but I'm sure you've realized how fucking stubborn the guy is." His gaze scraped up along my body. I shivered. "I can tell you're much more sensible than he is."

He nursed his cigarette some more before continuing. "What Lincoln does for a living... it's a tough gig, I'm not going to lie. You've got to have some balls to be able to get into a ring with someone who wants to beat the fucking shit out of you, ya' know? As much as you gotta be physically fit, a lot of boxing is a mental thing. You gotta be on your A-game at all fucking times. I'm sure he's told you all about that."

"He has," I responded, recalling how Lincoln had compared boxing to chess.

The middle aged man nodded as he stared off into the empty quad. "So you understand why it concerns me that ever since you've waltzed into Lincoln's life, he's mentally checked out."

The comment caught me off guard. "I—"

"I don't fault you," he said. He dropped his cigarette to the floor, the end burning a fluorescent red. "You haven't been around long enough to see what kind of damage he can do. But I can tell you from experience... Lincoln's head isn't into the matches like it should be. That's a very dangerous position to be in."

I kept my mouth shut. It was clear we were no longer talking about the boxing he did for Fenton.

"I heard he got his ass handed to him by Silva the other night."

"The guy brought a knife into the ring—"

He cut me off. "We can fucking cry about it all we want. The fact of the matter is, if he had been focused on what actually matters, he would have overtaken Silva. This wouldn't have been the first time someone brought steel into the ring."

He brought his leather boot down on the cigarette butt, twisting his foot for good measure. "There's no room for distractions. They end up getting people killed and I'm sure we both don't want that, do we?"

"No," I replied. The sound came out as nothing more than a whisper.

He gave me a curt nod. "Glad we're on the same page. Since Lincoln doesn't seem to understand what's best for him, maybe you can help him make some better choices."

I couldn't get my brain to move fast enough to formulate a response. It wouldn't have mattered anyways. This guy, whoever he was, didn't seem like he was here to have an actual conversation. While I was gathering my thoughts he began to walk away.

"Have a good night Calista," he called over before coming to a stop in the middle of the quad. "Oh, how rude of me," he said with a nasty smile. "I'm Claudio, by the way."

* * * * *

author's note:

Well, shit. I wonder how Cali's going to handle this.

How's your week going so far? My mental health has been on a slight decline lately so if you have something happy/good going on with you right now I would love to hear it. 

I did some rearranging of chapters and this story will have 49 instead of 50 parts (including the epilogue). I cannot believe we've almost reached the end. I'm itching to move on to another project. I absolutely love Extra Credit, but after working on it for the past six-ish months, I'll be happy to start fresh. 

Love you guys. I'll see you Friday!