Page 82 of The Ring
“I’ve got to go. Laurie won’t stop texting me until I get him his keys,” I say, rushing towards the front door.
Right now, I just want to give Laurie his keys, come back to sleep for a couple of months, and wake up when Cornelia and Benedict have broken up. Because they will. They have to.
Chapter 49
TJ
“1003, 1004, 1005… bingo,” I mutter to myself as I finally find the classroom Laurie told me he’s in.
I told Laurie I’d wait until his class is over, but he insisted I go in and hand him his keys. He told me this in all caps, no less. I think he doesn’t trust me enough to wait around—or he’s worried I’ll bump into Cornelia, fight, and then disappear.
I don’t want to interrupt the class, but Laurie assured me his professor is super chill and wouldn’t mind me popping in to drop off his keys.
I reach the door of classroom 1005, pull it open, and step inside.
The room is almost completely dark, as they seem to be watching a presentation on the projector. My entrance floods a good portion of the back of the room with light, drawing nearly every pair of eyes in the room to me.
I try to ignore all the eyes on me and quickly scan the room for Laurie. Unfortunately, the classroom is one of those massive lecture halls, with rows upon rows of seats arranged in a staircase-like fashion, ensuring everyone has a clear view of the front where the professor is standing.
I don’t see Laurie, but that’s hardly surprising. I can’t make out around 70% of the faces thanks to the dim lighting—especially those in the first and second rows, where Laurie is probably sitting, knowing him.
“Are you planning to stand there for the entire lecture, or are you going to sit down?”
The voice comes from the front of the room. I glance in that direction and realise it’s the professor speaking, his gaze fixed on me. The question is delivered in a rough, authoritative tone that immediately makes me feel out of place. It’s been years since I was last in a classroom with a professor.
He doesn’t seem older than sixty—tall, in a dark green jumper, with black hair streaked with grey and a sturdy presence that commands both fear and respect. I think that’s something most teachers wish to have, but not all do.
I don’t respond, a little too taken aback to do so.
“You either take a seat now and stay there until the lesson is over, or you leave and don’t come back,” he doubles down, his tone firmer.
If this is Laurie’s definition of chill, we definitely have a very different one.
I quickly run over my options. I could leave and wait for Laurie outside, but he’d probably freak out thinking I’m going to bail. Or I could stay in the classroom, where I’m guessing—even if I haven’t noticed him—he’s probably noticed me after the spectacle, and give him the keys after the lesson is over.
I opt for the latter. Here there’s air conditioning; I don’t have to wander around, and if the business stuff gets boring, I might even take a nap.
I look for the closest unoccupied seat, which is two rows down. I walk towards it and sit down without saying anything.
The professor keeps his eyes on me until I’m seated, then gives a nod—mostly to himself—before turning back to resume whatever he was discussing before my interruption.
“Like I was saying before I was interrupted—” I roll my eyes. Alright, I get it, I interrupted the class. Can we move on already? “The Guggenheim Museum in New York is the perfect example of function and form working hand in hand. The spiral ramp wasn’t just an artistic choice; it was a deliberate one. It guides visitors through the space, ensuring an uninterrupted flow as they move from one exhibit to the next. This is architecture at its best. Architecture is about creating spaces that shape behaviour and interaction—not just about building something beautiful. Though, let’s be honest, it does help if it’s beautiful.”
A good chunk of the class chuckles.
Wait, did he say architecture?
As he continues talking, it becomes increasingly clear I’ve walked into an architecture class, not a business one. Which means I’m in the wrong classroom. But I could have sworn this was the right one.
I carefully pull my phone out of my pocket, turning it on under the table so it doesn’t attract attention. I scroll to Laurie’s message, double-checking the classroom number. He did, in fact, tell me he was in classroom 1005—but not in this building.
Fuck.
I could stand up and leave, but that would only draw even more attention to me. No, thanks—I’ve had enough embarrassment for one day. I’ll just sit here, take a nap, and wake up when the class is over. Then I’ll go find Laurie and hand him hisfucking keys.
The class ends, and everyone starts gathering their things.
I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t the noise, the discomfort of the seats, or the fear of being caught and called out for it. It was that the class was really interesting. It turned out to be a good way to pass the time. I could even say I enjoyed it.
