Chapter 51 She’s Way Out of Your League
'THE FOLLOWING DAY. LAW 600 LECTURE. ANDREW’S POV'
The lecture theater smelled of dry-erase markers, stale coffee, and the faint metallic tang of anxiety that clung to every early-morning law class. At 8:05 a.m., ten minutes into Professor Wilfred’s lecture on the exclusionary rule’s good-faith exception, the room hummed with the low scratch of pens and the occasional cough. Wilfred stood at the front— charcoal blazer, sleeves rolled to the elbows, wire-rimmed glasses catching the fluorescent glare— pacing slowly while he dissected United States v. Leon in measured, deliberate tones.
Andrew and Josh occupied their usual perch: last row, far left corner, backs against the wall like sentinels who’d long ago surrendered to gravity. Andrew slouched low, long legs stretched under the flip-up desk, ash-grey hoodie hood pushed back to reveal dark curls still damp from a rushed shower. Josh sat beside him— white T-shirt, navy joggers, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee— spinning a pen between his fingers like a tiny baton.
Josh leaned sideways first, voice a bare whisper under Wilfred’s drone. “What time is our next lecture?”
Andrew didn’t look up from the doodle he was carving into the corner of his notebook— a lopsided basketball hoop. “Ion know.” He shrugged one shoulder.
Josh tapped his fingers on the closed lid of his laptop. “Check the lecture timetable on your phone, man.”
“You check your phone too. I’m not the only one with a phone.” Andrew’s tone stayed lazy, casual.
Josh’s mouth curved into a faint, guilty smile. “You know I don’t have the timetable saved.”
“And whose fault is that?” Andrew teased, finally glancing sideways. His eyes sparkled with mischief.
“My bad.” Josh lifted both hands in mock surrender, smile widening. “Just help me check it.”
“Pay me.” Andrew leaned farther back, arms folding across his chest, grin turning wicked.
“Fuck you.” Josh let out a silent laugh— shoulders shaking, no sound escaping. “Check the motherfucking timetable, man.”
“Say please.”
Josh exhaled long and theatrical, head dropping forward in defeat. “Okay… please.”
“Good boy.” Andrew sat up straighter, satisfied smirk spreading across his face. “You can’t be a brokie and still be prideful.”
He reached into the pocket of his black cargo pants, pulled out his phone— black case, screen protector already cracked at one corner— and thumbed open the gallery. A screenshot of the semester timetable glowed blue-white against his palm. He tilted the screen toward Josh just enough.
“LAW 651. Constitutional Law II.” Andrew’s voice stayed low, teasing. “And I don’t know why you wouldn’t know that. We’re almost at the end of the semester and you still haven’t mastered your timetable off the top of your head. That shows me how unserious you are.”
Josh snorted softly. “That makes the two of us. If you knew it, you could’ve just told me off the back of your head too, without checking.”
They both laughed— quiet, shoulder-shaking chuckles that barely disturbed the air around them.
After a beat Josh leaned in again. “Remind me what you said we’re having next?”
Andrew shook his head slowly, mock-exasperated. “Imagine you’ve forgotten. I just told you right fucking now.”
“Fuck you. I’ve remembered.” Josh’s grin widened. “It’s LAW 651. Constitutional Law II.”
Andrew rolled his eyes dramatically. “Not impressed.”
“I don’t think I’ll be waiting for that class,” Josh continued, voice dropping even lower. “I’m starving as fuck. I’m heading back to the dorm to find something to eat.”
Andrew’s stomach gave a quiet growl in agreement. He pressed a hand to his abdomen. “As if you know what I was thinking. I’m starving as fuck too. I don’t think these morning lectures are our thing. I’m only here this morning because if I miss another class my chances of sitting for the exam go out the door.”
“You’ll say our chances.” Josh arched a brow. “Have you forgotten we’ve missed the same number of lectures?”
“I’m only speaking for myself.” Andrew’s grin turned sly.
They laughed again— soft, conspiratorial— heads dipping close.
Then Andrew’s gaze drifted forward, sliding past rows of bent heads and glowing laptop screens until it landed on the very front row. Maggie sat dead center— back straight, black hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, pen moving steadily across her legal pad as she absorbed every word Wilfred said. Purple hoodie today, sleeves pushed up, posture perfect.
A slow, genuine smile spread across Andrew’s face— soft at first, then widening until his eyes crinkled at the corners.
Josh followed his line of sight. “What are you smiling about, man?”
Andrew didn’t look away. “I think I’ve found my wife. The person I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with.”
Josh’s pen froze mid-twirl. “Who— Maggie?”
“Yes. Maggie.” Andrew’s whisper carried quiet certainty.
Josh let out a low, disbelieving laugh. “Stop dreaming, man. She’s way out of your league.”