You stared at the 45 on your biochem exam in disbelief. That brought your grade down to a C. You quickly shoved the exam into your bag and left the lecture hall to catch the bus for work. If you failed this class, it would completely mess up your academic plan of getting into medical school.
You tried to push the negative thoughts aside and went to work at the doctor’s office. You were quiet all day, and your coworkers eventually asked what was wrong.
“Nothing much. I just did horrible on my exam.”
Another medical assistant chimed in. “Why don’t you go to office hours? I’ll cover your shift. Just give it a try.”
The next Tuesday, you showed up for office hours. You walked into an empty room where there was only one TA. He was tall—his legs stretched past the table. He had a buzz cut, kind of like a military cadet, and the deepest dimples you had ever seen.
You greeted him quickly and explained your upcoming test, practically pleading for him to save you.
It wasn’t that you didn’t understand the topics; you just struggled to apply them. The Krebs cycle absolutely took you out. This TA—Dustin? Justin?—was extremely helpful. He went through everything you got wrong and explained it simply, filling in the little gaps. Unfortunately, there were weeks of material you had to catch up on, and even worse, you had no time in your schedule.
You asked Justin if he had office hours at any other time, but to your disappointment, it was only Tuesdays.
The next week, you asked your coworker to cover your shift again.
“Who is this TA that you have to see every Tuesday anyway?” she asked.
“Dustin?” you said, unsure. “Tall. Dimples.” You had been too focused on his dimples to hear his name correctly.
“Dustin? What does he look like?”
“Buzz cut, blue eyes, dirty blond-ish.”
“Oh my God—Justin? As in Justin Herbert?”
You shrugged. “I guess? Who is that?”
“Uh… what’s a quarterback?” you replied.
“Oh my God, you are clueless. I’ll just switch shifts with you.”
Not thinking much of the interaction, you showed up to office hours the following week with a long list of topics. As Justin explained biochemical reactions, curiosity got the best of you.
“Hey, Dustin—quick question. I know this has nothing to do with the Krebs cycle, but what’s a quarterback? And are you one?”
He chuckled. “It’s a player on the football team. And yes.”
“Oh. So you’re smart and athletic? Dang, you’re the whole package,” you teased.
He blushed and went back to tutoring you.
On the next test, you scored an 80, bringing your grade up to a B—which you would gladly take.
“Justin, look what I got!” you said, storming into Tuesday’s office hours. “I couldn’t have done this without you.” You dapped him up, and he chuckled.
Along with the test paper, you handed him a container of your famous triple chocolate chip cookies.
“It’s my job,” he smiled.
Later that night, Justin went back to his dorm and started enjoying the cookies when his roommate walked in.
“Dude, Holly baked cookies? It smells so good in here!”
“Nah, just some girl I tutored,” Justin said, handing him one of the gooey cookies.
“Yo, these are so good. Who is this girl? The one you see every Tuesday?”
Justin’s face flushed as he shyly nodded.
“Bro… she must like you. You gotta wife her up. For the cookies.”
Within five minutes, they had devoured the entire box.
“You can’t give her back an empty Tupperware,” his roommate said.
At the next TA session, Justin seemed nervous.
“Hey… are you busy next Saturday?”
“I have, uh, two tickets for you and your friend,” he said, hesitating on the word friend, unsure if you had a boyfriend. “To my football game. The quarterback one. If you’re interested.”
“Sure. I only need one ticket. None of my friends are into sports.”
You stopped by the bookstore and wandered into the athletic department section—a place you had never stepped foot in before—in an attempt to get some merch. Within ten minutes, you found racks and racks of jerseys, hoodies, and T-shirts. Herbert was everywhere. It seemed endless. You quickly grabbed a school T-shirt to show some team spirit.
Saturday rolled around. It was your first time stepping into the stadium.
Row 105. You looked at your ticket. You didn’t really know how football worked, but you quickly realized you were near the touchdown zone.
You looked around, hoping to spot Justin, but between the helmets and the lack of names on the jerseys, it was nearly impossible.
You quickly pulled up Google to find his jersey number.
You kept your eye on him the entire game—even when he was on the sidelines. You caught yourself smiling every time he looked in your direction.
Despite your grades improving, you kept going to TA office hours. You told yourself it was because of genomic sequencing, but secretly, it was to talk to him.
Toward the end of one session, he pulled out a small paper bag.
“Oh, here’s your Tupperware. I meant to return it earlier but forgot.”
Confused, you looked inside. It was your container… and a shirt folded neatly inside.
You pulled it out and froze.
It was his game-worn jersey.
“My mom always told me not to return something empty-handed,” he said softly. “I noticed you only had a school T-shirt at the game. Maybe you’d like this.”
He paused, then added in a whisper:
“I guess you’re my good luck charm.”
