I’d never heard anything like it. It was like she was profiling me. Everyone thinks if you’re from the richest family in Alabama and you can throw a ball to rival Peyton Manning, then you’re golden, no f**king worries in life. But then no one knows about them, about what I grew up with, about what I still go through every day, and no one knows because they wouldn’t understand. But for a brief second, I entertained the notion that maybe she would. She sounded like she spoke from a place of knowledge, from personal pain. I’d come to find that only others in similar situations could pick that out in someone else, like there was some kind of hidden signal that they were in a whole load of hurt too.
“That is why I study over getting drunk every night. The world deserves to have people who think of others before themselves, that strive to be less selfish and superficially concerned.” I took in her whole package from head to toe—perfect tight-but-curvy body, smooth, lightly tanned skin, face brightened by the argument—and I quickly decided she was kind of f**king hot under all that… wrong.
“I hope that offers you some insight to why I want to be a professor. It’s who I am and I’m very proud of that fact.”
I quickly looked at Shelly, who was rooted to her seat. Sure, she may have looks and money, but she sure as hell didn’t have a high IQ; in fact, I’m pretty sure a sea urchin had more intelligence than she did. I knew I was an ass, but seeing her sitting there squirming, witnessing this fashion-challenged brunette bring down a Bama titan, made my entire f**king day.
Before I could stop myself, I quipped loudly, “Fuck! That told you, Shelly! Schooled!”
A pissed-off gasp sounded beside me, but I couldn’t pull my gaze from the British brunette to even spare Shelly a glance. Molly stared back at me and her lips moulded into a satisfied smirk. My c**k hardened. I’d actually made her happy.
Fuck.
“Whatever! Good luck fitting in around here acting like that!” Shelly snapped moodily. I knew I’d probably just made things worse, but seeing her belittled, when she did it so regularly to everyone else, meant I really didn’t give a shit.
The professor whispered something to Molly, and I zoned out as I watched her react to the professor’s words. Unintentionally, Molly’d gotten my attention, and Christ, if I didn’t feel like a stalker, eyes glued to her making her way down each row, handing out those bastard papers that only minutes prior were scattered all over the hallway floor.
Shelly staked her claim, almost straddling my thighs, as Molly approached our row. I missed if Shelly said anything to her at first. I was too busy trying to get a read of the new girl, absolutely wrapped up in the things she’d just said. That was until Shelly snapped, “Nice shoes, Molly. Do all future philosophy professors have such fantastic taste in fashion?”
I heard that slight loud and clear and decided that was it. I threw Shelly’s legs off mine—counting her lucky that I didn’t throw her right across the room—and hissed, “Quit it, Shel. Why do you have to be such a f**kin’ bitch all the time?” The other students didn’t dare meet my eyes. It was the only time I was glad I was a moody, scary f**ker that no one dared mess with.
Molly’s feet shifted from side to side, and she looked everywhere but at me. She was mortified and clearly wanted to split.
I needed something from her first. I needed to know if she believed everything she said or if it was just some regurgitated academic shit for the sake of impressing her new class.
Her eyes fluttered to mine again and I breathed deep, asking, “You really believe what you said just now?”
She frowned as though it were a stupid question. “Which part?”
I felt Shelly and her Barbies listen in, but I needed to know, something in me really needed to know. “About life being unfair. About philosophy giving answers to why some people get dealt shit and others don’t.”
Determined eyes met mine, leaving absolutely no room for doubt, and she replied, “Vehemently.” And that was it. A wash of something soothing seemed to settle in my chest and yeah, it may sound soft, but it was the first time I felt like I could breathe in years. She knew pain too. She’d been through shit too. Someone could relate.
Molly turned to run to her desk and the class was dismissed. As I grabbed my bag off the floor, Shelly grasped my arm. “Rome, don’t forget about the initiation tonight. Your brothers are part of the task. Come too, okay?”
“Don’t count on it,” I said in response. I could feel Shelly’s hard stare as I sat in my seat, completely lost in my thoughts. I couldn’t move, too busy reflecting on the things Molly had said. Why do some people coast through life… whilst others are dealt blow after blow? As the room began to clear, I snapped out of my daze and quickly left.