Eight
Brody
I hurried across campus, ignoring the nerves building within and choosing to focus on the excitement instead.
Emma had finally said yes to one of my invitations and there was no way I was going to screw it up by being late. My last class had only ended five minutes ago, and I had less than that to make it to the coffee shop on time.
This was the only reason why, when my phone rang, I answered it without bothering to check and see who it was.
“Hello,” I said distractedly.
The coffee shop was in my sights, so I picked up the pace.
“Brody … you answered.”
I stopped and pulled the phone away from my ear to look at the screen.
“f**k,” I muttered, before lifting it back up and saying, “I can’t talk now.”
“Please, son, just hear me out,” my father pleaded.
This was why I’d
