Heads swivelled in my direction, but my gaze was on Nathaniel whose eyebrows shot up with interest. “That is debatable. What is your definition of social isolation?”
“Oh, that’s easy. An absence of belonging, engagement with others, and social contact.”
“The Catholic Church fails to create a sense of belonging when you’re, I don’t know,gay, for example,” Nathaniel said, and I could have sworn his jaw clenched.
“But that’s not what we’re discussing,” I said, “a cult would isolate you from friends, family, and coworkers because they have a different worldview. The Catholic Church might not accept you into the community, but they won’t keep you fromyours.”
Nathaniel shook his head. “The lines blur when your family places significant value on the church.”
He’s got you there.
“It’s not the same,” I said.
“How is it not?” Nathaniel challenged.
“By definition, cults are typicallysmallgroups,” I defended my stance calmly. “The Catholic Church is a large institution. It is not a cult.”
“You make an excellent point,” Haywood cut in before Nathaniel could respond. “There are over one billion Catholics in the world. By definition, it is not a cult but a religious institution.”
I smiled, satisfied with my small win.
The remainder of the lecture went as it usually did. Nathaniel answered all the questions and received praise that lit up his face when he turned to his friend beside him, probably to brag. I knew all the answers too, but my fear of drawing attention tomyself yet again kept me from raising my hand. I had already debated in front of the class and that alone had made me want to crawl out of my skin.
Toward the end of the lecture, Professor Haywood began discussing the requirements for our second assessment: a literature review on the theories regarding the types of people more at risk of being psychologically manipulated.
A stress headache pounded against my skull. I had other assessments due around the same time, and between work, classes, and Auden, I was struggling to manage my time effectively. But literature reviews were quite simple—all I had to do was compare theories from other academics and determine common themes or common variances. And yet, the pressure remained. This was my chance to overthrow Nathaniel and take his crown. I didn’t want to waste it.
Why bother? He’ll just win like Alexander did.
The second Professor Haywood ended the lecture, I fled the hall. A warm breeze caressed my curls, brushing them off my forehead as I made the short trek to the library. I was looking forward to an hour of solitude before my next class. Unfortunately, however, fate wrapped its cold hands around me and tugged me back.
“Saint!”
I came to an abrupt halt. No one called out to me. Ever. For a full minute, I thought that maybe it was just the Devil in my ear playing a trick on me, but then I heard quiet panting, and I turned, slowly, gaze resting on Nathaniel, his cheeks red from running to catch up with me.
“Hey! I’m Nathaniel.” A flash of white teeth blinded me when he smiled, his hand outstretched towards mine. Black ink decorated the inside of his wrist, the number eleven etched in small roman numerals above his bulging blue veins.
“I know,” I said, leaving his hand untouched between us.
The smile never left his face as he lowered his hand and slipped it into the pocket of his grey trousers, brown eyes radiating warmth like honey being poured into tea.
“I look forward to working with you again this semester,” he said, tilting his head slightly to avoid the sunlight kissing his warm, golden skin. “You are doing well in this module. Second place, right?”
A sharp exhale erupted from me. HeknewI was second to him. Heknewand yet he phrased it like a question. My hand twitched with the need to slap the smile right off his stupid face and bury it where no one would ever find it.
Why does he make you so angry?
“Far below your level, I expect,” I drawled sarcastically, ignoring the Devil's question, “you wouldn’t want to work with someone like me.”
Nathaniel shook his head. “On the contrary, you are quite literally the only one I would even dare to work with. This class is…quite difficult compared to my others. I think if we work together, pick each other’s brains a bit, we can both walk away with High Distinctions.”
I do not praise myself often, and certainly not over trivial things, but a round of applause would suffice to compensate for the laughter I swallowed down as I listened to Nathaniel speak. Did he really believe I would work with my competition just so thathecould maintain his perfect grades? I was many things, but an idiot was not one of them.
“If you’re finding this module difficult,” I said, perfectly calm, “I suggest you take advantage of the affordable tutoring sessions the university offers.”
Nathaniel opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. A brush of wind flattened the mess of black hair over his forehead in a way that made him look almost boyish. I did mybest to hide my amusement.Thiswas how I liked to see him. Confidence knocked out of him like a bat to a pinata.
He watched me for a moment before a wide smile returned to his face. “If you change your mind,” he pulled out his phone and held up a screenshot of his social media notifications, “you clearly know how to contact me.”
