I had no words. “I’m truly speechless.”
With a cocky wink, he grinned at me. “You’re welcome.” Ash gave me a mock bow. “I better get to class. See you later. Have a good practice with the band. I’ll have someone pick you up.”
As he flicked the lock open on the door, he looked back at me, amusement dancing in his eyes. “And Red? Don’t lie about faking it with me again.” He held the hand up that had been in my underwear with a gleeful gleam in his eyes, as if I needed reminding.
“Wh—”
The door closed behind him, and I stood there like a moron until a guy walked in and stared at me and then at the urinals. “Um, are you lost?”
“You have no cracking idea,” I mumbled as I rushed to the door and fled down the hall.
Chapter 22: Ash
Through the whole lecture, I felt Ava giving me the side-eye, and I studiously ignored her as Leitch droned on and on about fuck knows what. When we started our sophomore year, they told me to pick an elective that would challenge me. Being a computer science major meant programming and tech science, and I did an elective in Economics basically so I could keep Jett awake in class. This elective caught my attention. Creative writing was an odd choice for me, but I liked the idea of it.
I guess most people looked at me and saw a typical jock, but I liked to write. I’d kept a journal since I was a young kid, and when I had to attend therapy for the bulimia, they told me that a journal would help me. Instead of eating my feelings, I was to write them down, something about facing my challenges or whatever. I shifted in my seat as I thought about my journal.
I didn’t particularly like talking about myself all the time. I was more of a team player than the star, so focusing all my attention on myself, even in therapy, made me uncomfortable. Writing about me wasn’t as bad because I was the only one who saw it. The therapist never asked to read my entries; all she ever asked was if I had made any entries.
Leitch was tormenting some poor bastard on the other side of the room when Ava leaned over and poked me sharply in the side with her pen.
“Jesus!” I whispered as I jumped, making sure Professor Prick hadn’t seen her.
“What did you do to her?” Ava demanded in a fierce whisper.
“Nothing she didn’t want or need.” My eyes flicked to the professor again. “I swear, you make him call me out and you’ll regret it,” I hissed at her.
Ava looked past me, and I saw her own dislike of the professor on her face. “Fine, but you tell me as soon as we’re out of here.”
“Ms. Bryant, do you want to share with the class?”
Her face paled significantly. He hadn’t even been looking at us, and he knew she’d been talking. “No, thank you. I wasn’t saying anything.”
The professor turned to look at us, and with slow, measured steps, he made his way over to stand in front of us both. I was internally cursing Ava because I hadn’t done the reading, and I was screwed if he asked me anything.
“No, thank you,” he repeated. “Youwasn’tsaying anything.”
God, he was a prick.He was average height, with gray hair and scruff on his face, which I was never sure if he thought looked good or if he was too lazy to shave. He was a complete and utter asshole, and I would have left this class behind long ago if I didn’t care about Ava. Every class, he had a snide comment for her, or he roasted her. At first, I thought it was a coincidence, then I thought he genuinely had a thing for her, but I now knew he was gay, so the reason why he had a vendetta against her was truly unknown to me.
Ava was awesome. She was open, honest, talked about football more than I did, and was also hot. The girl was every guy’s perfect woman. Which is why my cousin thought he had struck gold with her, because he had. And this professor pissed me off every time he spoke to her like she was the shit on his shoe.
He stood in front of us both now, looking down his nose at her, and I really wanted to break his face.
“Ms. Bryant, you interrupted my lecture. It was obviously very important, please,” he smiled at her with no friendliness, “share.”
“Why are you such a dick?” I met his affronted stare calmly. “Seriously, does it get you off or something, being such a complete asshole all the time?”
“You cannot talk to me li—”
“Actually, I can,” I spoke over him. “You speak to your class like they’re stupid. You’re condescending, patronizing and quite honestly, a shit teacher. So, when you speak to us with zero respect, tell me, professor, why the fuck should we respect you?”
“You will leave this lecture hall,” he said to me coldly.
“No. I won’t. Because I know my friend will stay here, and I know as soon as I walk out that door, you’re going to make the remainder of this class hell for her.” I leaned forward in my chair. “I don’t need your class to pass, so you can chuck me out, and I will still come in here every single time with her if I have to.”
“I will report you to the dean.”
“Go ahead, I have him on speed dial.” I handed him my phone. “Right under the number that says Board.”
