A/N: This is the third chapter I've posted today. Please make sure you read Chapters 24 and 25 first, or this one won't make sense. Thanks so much, dear readers! <3

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The dining hall proved to be yet another imposing structure. Kimball resembled Art Deco structures from the 1930s with a strange brick obelisk structure rising from its center.

I expected to wait for Helen at the main entrance, but Eric led me down the steps towards the side entrance. He held open the door for me before we walked into the lower food court. 

Separate stations offered a wide range of food from soups and salads to fast food burgers and wraps. My stomach gave another ominous rumble like a distant thunderstorm.

"They have decent regular coffee here," Eric said, walking towards a row of black plastic coffee dispensers. "But you can order a fancier one if you prefer."

"No thanks," I said, scouring the prices. Seventy cents for the cheap brew. Almost two bucks for a specialty coffee. I could afford seventy cents. "I like black coffee."

"Me too." He paused and gave me an uncertain look. "May I invite you?"

Oh, gosh! What do I say? 

Should I act like an independent feminist? Or should I accept his offer graciously?

Why don't they teach you this shit in school? 

I opted for a moderate stance. "Sure, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. I'll use my meal plan."

The assistant booped his student ID before Eric and I took our coffee to go. As we stood in the warm sun, we chatted about Die Brücke while we were waiting for Helen in front of Kimball. 

A bitter gust of wind bit through my lighter jacket, reminding me that winter was still whispering its last goodbyes. I shivered and gulped the coffee, more enticed by its warmth than its flavor. 

"Are you cold, Jess?" He put down his coffee and shrugged off his expensive black pea coat. "Here...you can wear this if you like."

"Oh, I don't want you to get cold." My cheeks burned with embarrassment and held up my paper cup. "This will warm me up."

"I don't mind," he said in a wary tone, analyzing my reaction. "I'm too warm anyway."

Oh, gosh! He's so thoughtful.

"Thank you," I said in a grateful whisper, prompting him to drape it across my shoulders. 

Surrounded by his warmth, tingles traveled from head to toe. I caught a faint hint of his manly shower gel every time I took a breath. True to my crazy shape, it fit snugly across my shoulders and chest, but my short arms couldn't make it through the long sleeves. 

I held up the ends. No idea what came over me, but I made a silly monster noise that made him laugh. God, it was the first time he'd laughed like that. From the depths of his soul. 

It made my heart swell with an odd warmth.

"It suits you really," he said with a grin, "apart from the arms, of course."

"I've never worn a pea coat," I said, pretending to model it for him. 

He laughed again. This time a soft, gentle laugh that warmed my heart. When our eyes locked again, it felt like he'd caught me in his snare. His eyes like a dark, starry night. 

So quickly that I almost didn't notice, his gaze flicked to my lips before he backed away. He cleared his throat, but it didn't fix the gravel. 

"So you liked the movie?" he asked.  

"Like?" I replied. "Oh, my God. I loved it! I've never had a chance to watch an original German film. I thought I'd have to go to Europe to experience that."

"It was intense!"

"Poor Albert."

"It's a poignant example of the senselessness of war," said Eric. "And the foolishness of idealism, particularly of the nationalistic variety."

Hey, now! Don't group idealism with Nazis!

"Idealism isn't to blame." I shook my head. "The Nazis used idealism to warp people's minds." 

He hummed in thought. "Exactly, idealism has the power to exact sudden negative change."

"So can realism," I retorted. "Used correctly, idealism can help us envision future possibilities and conceive of the impossible."

"Realism can give us a clearer picture," he replied, "because it's based on tangible fact."

"Gotta love Machiavelli," I said in a wry tone. "It is better to be feared than loved..."

"Rationality entails looking at facts and judging them objectively." Eric shook his head. "Why do you have to go to such extremes? Choose a modern, sensible political realist."

Okay, Eric may be awesome, but I'm not gonna let this slide.

"Like Kissinger?" I scoffed. "Realists like him think that morality doesn't play a role in the international arena. Do you think we should accept amorality as a fact of life in politics?"

He fell silent, actually considering my words rather than debating for the sake of it. "I suppose it's fair to say danger comes when either realism or idealism espouses unethical principles."

"Right, so realism isn't better than idealism." I held his gaze and took a sip of coffee. "Any idea is dangerous when it's warped to exert the will of those in authority."

"A universal issue we must all confront." He gave me a warm smile. "Do we follow what authority expects when they are amoral or simply wrong?"

A question I've had to face many times...

Helen came sauntering towards us and gave Eric a friendly hug. "Hey, dude! Did you guys have fun at the MRC?"

"Yes, we were just discussing the movie we were watching," I replied enthusiastically.

"Oh, cool." She turned to Eric. "What was it?"

"A postwar German film set during World War Two," he replied with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. 

"Eric!" Helen exclaimed, furrowing her brow in disapproval. "What did I tell you about that?"

"What?" He shrugged. "It was her choice."

"Oh, Jess!" Helen heaved a heavy sigh. "You have a lot to learn."

"We had a great discussion about the film afterward," said Eric with a slight hint of forcefulness. "And I'll watch another one with her tomorrow if she wants."

A warm fuzziness spread throughout my body. He enjoyed hanging out.

"Okay, hey! If you guys had fun, far be it from me." Helen took out her Holy Cross ID card. "By the way, lunch is on me, Jess."

"Thank you, but I couldn't possibly--"

"Oh, please! Room and board includes two obligatory meals a day. At least once a week I get takeout with my friends," she said with a dismissive wave. "The leftover meals go to waste."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Please allow me. No reason why we should both lose money."

"In that case, thank you, Helen."

She grinned. "They shouldn't make you pay six bucks for a stupid cafeteria meal, even if it is a buffet. It's bullshit."

Six bucks? Holy crap in a handbasket.

We entered the dining hall and stood in line to have our IDs swiped. Judging by the attendant's nonplussed reaction, perhaps it was standard for the host to pay for guest meals. That put me more at ease. 

I stared wide-eyed at the open expanse of the dining hall. Not a single supportive pillar in sight. Just hundreds of students packed in row after row of oak tables and chairs. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and cast a faint light on the interior. Large windows let in the spring sun.

Eric made his way to the burger bar while Helen and I stuck with the classics. "Hey, avoid the meatloaf. It sucks," Helen said to me. "The chicken is often rubbery, but the pasta rocks."

"Thanks for the tip!"

"Too bad you won't be here for Taco Tuesday."

"Mmmm, Tacos," I said in a Homer Simpson voice.

She chuckled. "They have mac and cheese today. That's my recommendation."

Comfort food. Yum.

It had that decadent cheesy, gooey texture without being a mushy, lumpy mess like many such cafeteria dishes. They placed a very generous portion on my plate along with a large slab of garlic bread. 

No, Jess. No garlic. 

Don't be stupid. It's not like he's gonna kiss you.

Better safe than sorry.

We both went to the salad bar and helped ourselves to fresh greens. I got a giant bowl filled with a sampler of lots of different veggies and a generous helping of cherry tomatoes. 

Helen and I found an empty table and waited for Eric, who returned a few moments later with two burgers, a large portion of fries, a giant salad, and two sodas. He might have been slender, but it wasn't for lack of trying.

"Where the heck do you put it all?" Helen teased.

Eric shrugged and gave us a cheeky smile. "Must be all the weight lifting I do."

She chuckled while I gave a shy, polite smile. Chit-chat wasn't really my thing, and I didn't want to do anything wrong. For all I knew, Eric did lift a lot of weights and spend hours in the gym.

"So, Miss Linguist, are you psyched about graduation?" Helen asked in a friendly, upbeat tone.

"Oh, yeah. But I'm also nervous about acceptance letters," I replied. "Mine will be coming any day now."

"I bet. Where do you want to go?" she asked.

"Well, I applied to Holy Cross, of course."

Helen cast Eric an excited look, and a faint smile brushed his lips. 

"But I'm not sure if that's realistic," I added.

"Jess is being modest," said Eric in a matter-of-fact tone that belied the pride in his eyes. "She is one of the most gifted linguists I've ever met. They would be foolish not to accept her."

My cheeks burned. "My grades aren't perfect."

She furrowed her brow. "Really? What's your GPA?"

"It's not my grades as much as it's--" I swallowed the lump in my throat, and it had nothing to do with the mac and cheese. "I need scholarships. Without funding, I can't go."

"Hey, everyone does," Helen said with a reassuring tone. "It costs 50K to go here with room and board. I mean, who the hell has 200K lying around? Jesus, that's two years' salary."

More like ten.

"My grandparents were my official guardians until I turned eighteen." I stared at my plate and poked at my food in embarrassment. "If I don't get a full ride, I can't study. They can't afford it."

I braved a look at Helen, but I couldn't face Eric. She gave me a pitiful look at me up and down. "Awww, that explains it."

Eric set his cutlery down heavily on his plate, and I turned to him. He was casting daggers at Helen, who began to blush furiously.

"I--I mean..." She dabbed her mouth with a napkin. "That explains why a smart girl like you thinks Holy Cross is a reach school. I mean..."

Her voice trailed off, and she cleared her throat and began to eat her salad to avoid speaking. Eric cast me an apologetic look as if to say, Don't listen to her. She's being a dumb-ass.

"If it doesn't work," I said in a hopeful tone to break the tension, "I'll go to Fitchburg State College if they give me a full scholarship."

"You can transfer here later on," Eric blurted out before adding, "if you like it."

Helen tried to hide a smile behind her napkin while my cheeks burned up like two red giants. Eric stared down at his plate and stabbed a fry.

"It's good to consider all viable options," he said in a more matter-of-fact tone. "Anyway, Holy Cross has a needs-based financial aid program, and they don't turn anyone away because of money."

"That's true," said Helen, recovered from her social blunder. "They can give you a combination of work-study, scholarships, and federal funding."

"So, loans?" I asked with a wary expression.

"Yes, but you don't have to pay them off until you have a job," said Helen. "Otherwise, they give one full-tuition scholarship a year to freshmen who study the classics. Or you can join ROTC."

I furrowed my brow. "ROTC?"

Eric cast her a silent warning that made Helen focus on the last lettuce leaf. "The Navy and Marines offer scholarships for tuition, fees, books, and you even get a stipend every month."

"So ROTC pays for everything?" I mused under my breath with a shrug. "Maybe I should apply."

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "I don't think it'd be for you, Jess. You're required to take two semesters of calculus and two semesters of physics in addition to naval science."

I turned up my nose slightly. "I suppose I could do that."

Eric chuckled. "I distinctly remember you saying in Madame Waters' French class--and I quote--I'd rather cut open my chest and rip out my own heart than take another math class."

Helen cracked up laughing. "Wow, that is some serious Math hatred."

"I didn't say that," I muttered with a sheepish look.

"I don't know, man. I'd put my money on Eric." She took a sip of soda. "Dude has an eidetic memory."

I hid my burning cheeks behind a napkin while Eric gave a silent chuckle. 

"Okay, I admit it," I muttered, "Navy ROTC probably isn't for me."

"It's a shame," he said. "They could use gifted linguists like you."

Eric met my gaze and returned my shy smile. 

Helen broke the tension by asking, "Hey, so when's prom, Jess? I can give you all sorts of fashion tips for hairstyles and dresses and accessories."

Inwardly, I cringed. Care and Mom might have cajoled me into going to prom, but that didn't mean I was looking forward to it very much.

I shrugged. "I don't know. It's not my thing."

"Aww, why not?" she asked before eating a spoonful of frozen yogurt. 

Why will prom be a living hell?
Let me count the ways.
The small talk required at dinner.
The gorgeous date I didn't have.
The grace that I didn't possess.

Instead of that sullen parody I said, "I can't even dance."

"Well, we can fix that, can't we, Eric?" Helen asked. "Did you know this kid rocks the dance floor? He's like the best clubbing partner. Skilled, but no awkward funny business."

Eric groaned. "Helen!"

"He's just being humble," she whispered, rolling her eyes. "If he teaches you dance moves and I give you some style, you'll have all the guys in the class begging to dance with you."

"You're an amazing dancer?" I asked him, astounded. "How did I not know this?"

"You didn't ask."

Helen grinned. "And that, ladies and gentleman, is why Eric Stevens will work in naval intelligence one day."

"And it's why you won't," he retorted with a wry smile.

She grinned and kissed the air. "Love you too, sweetie."

Awww, Helen is Eric's Care.

I cast him an inquisitive, curious look, which he returned with a nonchalant shrug. "Maybe I can dance...a little."

"We should go to the Loyola Ballroom, and you can teach Jess some of your moves," Helen suggested. "Seriously he's a better dancer than me. And that's saying something."

He finished the last bite of his burger and gave Helen a look of death. "You should make your own decision, Jess. I'd be happy to teach you if you like."

For a moment, I considered their words. The rational part of me couldn't be bothered worrying about prom. But a small part of me thought a dance lesson with Eric and Helen might be fun.

"Maybe if you guys taught me some moves," I said, "I'd look like less of an idiot."

Helen gave an excitable little squee. "Awesome! Let's do it tonight after the library tour."

"Tonight is movie night," Eric said, giving me a furtive glance. "The Star Wars Trilogy. Remastered. You're both welcome to join us. I can offer you free pizza."

Helen shouted, "Pizza!" at the same time I shouted, "Star Wars!"

"We're starting at seven so that we can binge-watch all three movies."

"Don't know if I can stand that much nerd." Helen said with a wink. "What about you, Jess?"  

My shoulders slumped. "Awww..."

"Just kidding. I'll do anything for free pizza."

"Awesome!"

"Great, I'll see you then," Eric replied, looking only at me. 

Then he cast a quick glance at Helen, who grinned. A faint blush spread across his cheeks as he rose to return his tray to the cleaning area. 

As soon as he was out of hearing range, Helen whispered to me. "Man, never seen anything like it."

"What?" I asked, puzzled.

"He's got it bad."