Dead Valentine (St. Valentine’s)

4

4

Rushing through the door just in time, my professor gives me a disapproving stare as he prepares to shut the door. I give my best apologetic smile, “Apologies, professor.”

The door shuts with a click as he sighs. “Take a seat, Mr. Moriarty. I suggest working on your punctuality. I don’t think you’re prepared for the hostility that some clients will send your way if you make them wait.”

I give him my best apologetic smile. “I understand, sir.”

I turn away and roll my eyes, making my way to my seat. A few students look in my direction and I discreetly point and make the motion for talking too much. They quickly cover their mouths to stifle their laughter and turn to face the front of the class. I unbutton my blazer before taking a seat and scoot my chair in, immediately pulling my textbook, notepad and pen out of my bag. While waiting for the professor to tell us what page to open to, I open my notepad and click my pen.

I start doodling a stomach, focusing on the esophagus and duodenum. My lips twitch, suppressing a smile as I stare at it. My doodles would seem strange if I had some basic ass major, but nobody can question them with my field of study. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and I drop my pen, scrunching my brows. Who the fuck is texting me? I look around the class and make sure the professor is at the front of the class. I see him shuffling through paperwork, so I pull my phone out and hold it under the desk. I unlock the phone and find messages from Colson. I can’t help but roll my eyes. I can only imagine the drivel bleeding into his messages.

PATHETIC BASTARD: I will be speaking to Father about you.

I can’t help but roll my eyes, reading his message. So fucking pathetic.

ME: Oh, this will be good. Please do. He’ll tell you to stop being such a pussy and man up, you sniveling weasel.

Starting to put my phone in my pocket, it vibrates again. I take a deep breath and try to rein in my anger.

PATHETIC BASTARD: All I’ve ever done is try to be a brother to you. Every step of the way, you have torn me down. You treat me as if I’m beneath you. I am not beneath you, Corbin. The same blood runs through our veins. We were both accepted into this school. You are not better than me!

I grit my teeth and smash the keys of my flip phone.

ME: All you are, all you have ever been is the mistress’ child. You are MY father’s bastard. Do you believe you got into this school based on your intelligence and merit? No! You are nothing more than a charity case. Father PAID them to let you into this school. You are here to no longer be his problem, I’m sure in the hopes that you will become one of the nameless who disappear. You will never amount to anything more than the byproduct of one night with a whore.

PATHETIC BASTARD: You will regret this. You are dead to me. I will end you.

I smirk at his attempt to intimidate me and pocket my phone. Fucking loser. I pick up my pen and get back to my drawing. The professor drones on in the background and I refuse to listen. At this point, I think I could teach the class better than him. If you can’t get even your most passionate students to listen, then you’re clearly doing something wrong.