He glanced at his rowmate. The guy wore gray warm-up pants and a wrinkled T-shirt. He slouched so far down that he could rest his chin on the desk. Instead of taking notes, he was texting someone.
He remembered what his dad had told him: No matter what, just put one foot in front of the other.
I’m down, but not out.
Ethan took out his notebook and began listening intently to every carefully chosen word that came out of the professor’s mouth. He would find a way to make it to class earlier. He would write the best essays and score the top grades on the tests, and Professor Sharpe would have no choice but to take notice. Ethan breathed a sigh of relief.
The guy next to him laughed at something on his phone, breaking Ethan’s concentration. Ethan ignored it. A few seconds later, the guy reacted again with an “hmmm” and then another laugh. Ethan rolled his eyes and paid attention to the lecture, trying his hardest to focus on the overhead projector.
“Damn,” the guy whispered to himself. He leaned his head against the wooden column.
“Could you please be quiet?” Ethan asked him.
“I am being quiet.”
“Not really. I can hear all of your reactions.”
The guy cocked an eyebrow at Ethan. “You shouldn’t eavesdrop.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be texting in class.”
“I’m not. I’m taking notes,” the guy said. He returned to texting.
Frustration pumped up Ethan’s head like a balloon. This was the cherry on top of a crappy, potentially career-killing morning.
“Oh, man,” the guy said to his phone, shaking his head. Ethan stared daggers at him, and he turned to Ethan with a sly smile that brought dimples to his cheeks, creasing his deep brown eyes. He was a total jerk. A total hot jerk, but a jerk nonetheless. That didn’t make up for his behavior at all, but it helped just slightly. At least Ethan could have some eye candy in this situation.
“Whoa,” the guy said and exhaled a gust of air as his eyes bulged at the screen. “I’d hate to be his girlfriend right now.”
“Do you mind?” Ethan whisper-snapped at him. “Please stop talking.”
“Chill out.” He shoved his phone into his shorts pocket. “The TA posts the PowerPoint online after class.”
Maybe he had a point, which only frustrated Ethan some more. “It’s not the same.”
“Actually, it kind of is. Only better because you don’t have to listen to this guy.”
“I like listening to him.” Ethan turned to a fresh page in his notebook. He did hand stretches to avoid any premature cramping from his feverish note-taking skills.
“Planning to give a slew of hand jobs later?”
“Excuse me?” Ethan blushed red at the totally inappropriate—and untrue!—question. He was ready to learn, to let the knowledge and years of legal wisdom wash over him. He couldn’t wait for Professor Sharpe to fill in the flat text of the PowerPoint with life experience.
As the professor spoke about understanding legalese, Ethan scribbled down notes, but noticed that the lecture was hewing closely to the slides. Sharpe must’ve been having an off day.So am I!Soon, a thought burrowed itself into Ethan’s head.
“If you don’t like this class, then why are you in it?” He asked his rowmate.
The guy glanced up from his notebook, which was full of doodles. “What?”
“This isn’t a pre-rec or distro requirement. If you’re in this class, it’s because you want to be.”
That seemed to catch the guy a little off-guard, and Ethan took that as a small victory. “Hmm?” Ethan prompted.
“I thought it would be interesting. I was sorely mistaken. Just another example of a celebrity professor overpaid to bloviate and collect an inflated salary at the expense of more talented adjuncts.”
Ethan was taken aback—by the thought, the eloquence, the use of multi-syllabic words. “Well, a lot of students would’ve loved to be in this class, so you should—”
“I’m just kidding, dude. It’s near my frat house. Easy to get to.” The guy flashed him a snarky smile.
