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that came from sleeping with Kurt was that it reignited a flame in me that had begun to dwindle. I went out, invested some of my webcam money into some toys, and my viewership went up because of it, which meant more coins. The increase wasn’t huge, and I was definitely not dropping out of school anytime soon, but something was better than nothing.
    My last class of the day, Leadership in Societies, was filled with a monotonic and drill professor that made cat claws scratching on a blackboard sound like the New York Philharmonic . The class was in a lecture hall, which was nice, because there were about two hundred other students that shielded me from dozing off or daydreaming about a life far away from here where I’d win the lottery and live on some remote beach in the middle of the South Pacific. Yeah, that was the life, and I was praying that one day I would get to live it.
    As I sat there, dreaming about my new life far, far away, my phone —which was tucked neatly in the front pocket of my hoodie—went off and buzzed inside the soft cotton interior. The buzz wasn’t loud, for my phone was about four years old, but it definitely gave me a little jolt and made me sit up in my seat. Nobody ever texted me, especially while I was in class. My parents and Morgan knew my schedule, and I only really talked to friends back home on holidays and special occasions. There must be some kind of emergency or problem if I was getting a text during the middle of class.
    As Ms. Burman wrote on the large whiteboard and shuffled around her notes, I slyly pulled out my phone, holding it tightly in my hand, and peered down at the backlit screen to see a number I didn’t recognize . I sighed, for the only real texts I got were always for the wrong number. My number was one digit off I found out from a popular guy on campus that always threw raging parties. Since it was Wednesday, I figured it was just another lost and sorry person asking if any big parties were happening tomorrow night.
    I opened the message anyway, and was shocked as I began to read what the message said.
     
    "It’s Kurt. I’m sorry I haven’t been around to talk much, but I’ve been really busy on the set of a new movie. I haven’t forgotten about you, not that I ever could, and I’d like to see you if you’re available. I have free time tomorrow, so think about coming down to the set and spending a little time with me in my trailer. I’ll have my assistant get you the information."
     
    My heart began beating, my stomach filled with nerves, and I was pretty sure I began to drip sweat from my shallow pores as I tapped my foot incessantly. Was this really Kurt? I mean, I guess it had to be, considering I didn’t know the number and nobody knew that I wasn’t in contact with him. In fact, I told everybody that I had his number and we chatted a little bit, so as far as some people knew, they couldn’t prank text me and trick me. This had to be Kurt, and the fact that he wanted to see me again just made me think that maybe I was still in this.
    As Ms. Burman kept going on about what it mean t to volunteer and be a leader and role model in your community, I diverted my attention back and forth between the droning on of her lesson and the pixels on my screen that formed those few perfect sentences. Could I skip school tomorrow and go to see him? I knew it was a bad idea, and I never skipped any classes, but the offer was almost too much to pass up. Who knew the next time I could see him, and with his crazy and ridiculous schedule I should try and take what I could get. It wasn’t every day that an award-winning actor asked to spend time with you.
    •••
    “Well, I’m going to see him tomorrow,” I said to Morgan as I walked into the apartment and saw her awkwardly measuring her boobs.
    “Who?” she asked as she looked down at the number on the tape.
    “Kurt. We’re going to hang out.”
    “Oh my God! Are you serious, Chlo? Where are you guys going?