Until My Last Breath

Tiffany Patterson

Tiffany Patterson

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A special thank you to There For You Editing ([email protected]) for editing.

Chapter One

Then … Spring 1974

Deborah

“This has to be a mistake,” I mumbled to myself as I stared at the paper in front of me. Written in blue ink was the name Robert Townsend. My new, semester-long partner for this World Mythologies elective I’d decided to take my final semester. This isn’t going to work.

My left hand shot into the air. “Excuse me, Professor James,” I called, my voice reaching the professor’s ear as he moved to the front of the large lecture hall.

“Yes, Ms …” He paused as he peered down at this clipboard running his index finger down the row of seats he’d meticulously assigned us to.

Seriously, what type of professor gave his students assigned seats? In a class of over a hundred students no less?

“Ms. Tate, how can I help you?”

“There has to be some sort of mistake. I think I received the wrong partner assignment.”

His bushy, greying eyebrows scrunched together and brown eyes narrowed behind the thick-rimmed glasses he wore. He lowered his head to look down at the clipboard again, this time flipping the page.

“Let’s see … it says here you’re partnered with Mr. Robert Townsend, is that correct?” He raised his stare to me.

“Yes, but—”

“Then it’s correct.”

“Right, but I’m sure there’s been a mix up. Is it possible to be reassigned?” I briefly caught a few students looking back at me, likely wondering what the big deal was.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Tate,” Professor James responded in a voice that made it clear he wasn’t actually sorry. “Partner assignments are final. Now …” he began to continue on with the rest of the lecture.

I slammed my back against the wooden, foldable chair, tossing the paper on the wraparound desk in front of me. This was ridiculous. I waited years to take this elective. For four years I’d pushed myself to power through my grueling course load including trigonometry, applied mathematics, and statistics courses to get my degree in mathematics. I’d opted to take the World Mythologies class in my last semester, thinking it’d be a breeze in my final semester here at Stanford, and yet—

“Don’t fret, princess. I don’t bite … well, only on the rare occasion.”

I stiffened, my eyes moving before I slowly pivoted my neck to the right, twisting around to find myself staring into the dark brown eyes of none other than Robert Townsend. In typical fashion, his lips were parted, half smirking, but his eyes were dark, contradicting the smirk. Those freckles that lined his upper cheeks prominent as he grinned.