Chapter Nine – Wren
I literally can’t believe this. What was supposed to be nothing more than a hookup is now sitting right beside me, invading my personal space…
and he’s going to do it three days a week.
Of course, somehow, since we were both going for the same book in the campus bookstore, it was a possibility that we’d share a class, but a lot of intro classes use the same textbooks, so I didn’t think…
I just didn’t think. I didn’t think enough, which isn’t something I can normally say about myself.
After I stumble on my words and he finishes with “Want to do it again? Or, should I say, do you again,” I abruptly turn my face away from him. The longer I stare into his green eyes, the more I remember that night at the club and what happened after.
Not something I should be thinking about here. Or, you know, ever.
I stare hard at the clock on the wall, watching as the seconds tick by. I’ve never wished for a class to be over before, let alone a class that hasn’t even begun yet, but that’s exactly what I do right then: I will time to leap ahead just so I can get away from the guy beside me.
From Logan. The guy I slept with. The jerk who acted like he was grateful he didn’t know me. Now look at him. Look at how the tables have turned—I don’t know why they turned, but they definitely turned.
Maybe showing my disinterest is only making him want me. That’s weird, but I can’t pretend to know what goes on in a guy’s head.
The door to the auditorium opens, and someone hurries down the steps—the professor.
Everyone quiets when they realize it’s him, and as he heads to the podium and sets his bag down, he talks loudly: “Sorry I’m late—” He pauses as he checks the clock.
“—wait, no, scratch that. I’m exactly on time.
” The second hand of the clock hits, the official start of class.
The professor grins as he grips the edge of the podium. “I’m Professor Scott. You can call me that or Professor or even just Reese. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” As he surveys the room, he spots me, and just like that, time stops, and he grins harder.
Professor Scott is the good-looking guy I rammed into while I was fleeing the student union, the guy who made a joke about Professor Scott being a stickler for the rules.
His gaze lingers on me for a few seconds before he surveys the rest of the room. “Today’s going to be an easy day. We have the syllabus to go through, and then I’d like for us to take our first test.”
I assume many of the students around me exchange looks; I’m pretty sure I hear a few of them groan, including Logan beside me. It doesn’t surprise me that he’s against tests; I bet the jerk is going to try to cheat off me every chance he gets.
But Professor Scott is unfazed. “I know, I know. A test, already? Am I crazy?” He pauses.
“Maybe a little, but the good thing here is as long as you complete it, you’ll get full credit.
That can’t be said about any other test you’ll take in here, so keep that in mind.
First thing’s first, though: the syllabus. ”
I watch as he goes to his bag and pulls out a stack of stapled papers.
He gives the entire stack to the student sitting on the far right of the class with the instruction to take one and pass it along.
It’s a good five minutes until everyone has a syllabus in their hands, and I try not to stare at him too much.
I mean, I have eyes, as does everyone else in the room. I can’t be the only one who thinks he’s drop dead gorgeous, way too easy on the eyes to be a professor. I wonder if he’s an actual professor or if he’s a graduate student or something. I know graduates teach a lot of the lower-level classes.
We go through the syllabus page by page. It’s like every professor thinks we can’t read them for ourselves… although, to be fair, they’re probably right. I think I’m an outlier when it comes to paying attention and actually putting in the work for classes.
“Now, I know I’m going to get groans for this, but there will be a group project that’ll be worth thirty percent of your final grade,” Professor Scott goes on, pacing the length of the room.
I catch myself looking at him a bit too much, and I do my best to stare hard at the syllabus instead.
“Part of that project is going to be a presentation to the class. We aren’t there yet, but it’s going to happen, so be prepared. ”
“I know who I want in my group,” Logan whispers, obviously talking about me. I don’t dignify that with a response, and he shifts the way he sits so that his elbow purposefully intrudes in my space.
Ugh. This is going to be a long semester.
He talks about his office hours next. “Now, my email is on the syllabus, but my office is in the old psych building right next to the student union, room 303. I’ll be there every Monday and Thursday afternoon, between three and five, but if you can’t make it either of those days at those times, just send me an email and we can get something sorted out.
I have no life, so really, I’m available whenever you need me. ”
I must be losing my mind, because I swear he stares at me when he says that last part.
Professor Scott goes to the podium and grabs what must be the test he wants us to take today. These papers he hands out row by row, starting at the bottom and heading up, counting the number of tests he hands to the student at the end by how many are sitting in that row.
“Now, this test is really just for fun. It’s all multiple choice.
Answer every question to the best of your ability—I want to see where you’re at.
If you pay special attention, you’ll see some of these questions again on other exams throughout the semester.
Obviously, these are topics we will cover in class. ”
Beside me, Logan mumbles as he takes one of the tests and hands me the stack, “This is bullshit.”
I can only roll my eyes at him, take a test, and pass it along to my right.
I bet he thinks every test in every subject, regardless of the day, is bull.
He doesn’t strike me as someone who ever takes things like tests seriously, which is the very opposite of myself.
I give myself gray hairs when it’s time to study, and cheating has never once crossed my mind.
“It’s a test for you,” Professor Scott is busy saying, “but think of it as a test for me, too. If I’m good at my job, you’ll know more and more of the answers as the semester goes on.
” He finishes passing them out and walks back to the podium.
“This is the last thing we’re going to do today, so after you hand in your test, you can go. ”
Now, that sets everyone’s mood higher.
“Oh, and obviously, be a good sport and don’t cheat.”
With his final warning, it’s now time to take the test. A quick glance at the test shows it has one hundred questions, so it isn’t something you can flip through that fast. Still, I like to think I’m a good test-taker, and multiple-choice tests, even with one hundred questions, are easy for me.
I mean, the answer is in front of you. Most teachers give you two clearly wrong answers, and then one that looks like it might be right, and then the correct one.
If you don’t know the answer right away, you can use your head to at least narrow it down.
Professor Scott must be grading these by hand since there’s no bubble sheet. All we have to do is circle the correct answer.
I may or may not have spent the last week looking over some of my textbooks, so I know a lot of the answers, and the ones I don’t know I’m able to guess.
That’s what I like about multiple choice tests.
I zip through it quickly—I’m also a speed reader, so my eyes can scan over the questions in seconds.
All in all, it takes me just under half an hour to get through the entire thing.
If it was a normal test, I would go back and double-check my answers, but since this is an automatic full-credit thing, there’s no point in wasting my time.
Plus, the longer I’m here, the more likely Logan will finish his test at the same time, and I wouldn’t put it past him to try to walk out with me.
So I pack up my things, sling my bag over my shoulder, and walk to the podium, where Professor Scott is sitting. I’m the first one up, and I’m so fast with it I can hear some whispers behind me.
“Wow,” he says gently, not quiet enough to be a full whisper, but soft enough that his voice doesn’t carry in the large room. “That was fast. Thank you…” He takes the test from me, and his blue eyes fall to the paper, where he sees my name. “Wren.”
When he says my name, something invisible tugs at me, but I do my best to ignore it. I ignore it, and I turn right back around and hurry up the steps, pushing out into the hall moments later.
The hall is cooler than the auditorium was, and completely empty. My legs pause, and I let out a long sigh. I’d say that class would be my highlight of the semester—a good-looking professor? Yes, please—but that’d be a lie since I have the feeling Logan is going to be stuck to me like glue.
Why? Just why? Someone like him would never actually be interested in someone like me, and I wouldn’t want him to be.
Hopefully he’ll get bored and turn his attention somewhere else.
Anywhere else. He might be gung ho about me now, but after a week or two at the most, he’ll have to realize he won’t get anywhere with me and put his so-called charm to use elsewhere.
A girl can hope.
With a shake of my head, I resume walking. This was my last class for the day, so I can head home and try to relax. Don’t know how much relaxing I’ll do, but at least if I’m shut away in my bedroom, there’s no chance of running into Logan.
I wouldn’t mind running into Professor Scott again, though. He seems nice, easygoing. If I was someone else, a few years older, not in the middle of the worst time of my life, I wouldn’t mind dating someone like that.
I mean, the man has dimples. Enough said.
I make it to the stairwell on the far side of the hall, and I head downstairs.
The ground floor level of the stairs lets out into the main hall of the building, right next to the eastern exit.
It’s a quick right turn and then I’m outside, under the sun, with not a care in the world.
At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.
The truth? The truth is I’m barely hanging on.
I’m about thirty feet down the sidewalk when I hear someone jogging over to me. “Damn, nerd, you move fast.”
Turning my head, I shoot a glare at his direction as I keep walking. No way Logan finished his test that quickly. “Don’t you have a test to go finish?”
“I could say the same to you.”
“I finished it. There’s no way you did.”
“Hey, I take offense to that, you know. I’m not some dumb asshole, I—” He chuckles at that.
“No, I can’t even finish that sentence. When I saw you were done, I went through the rest of the questions and circled random answers.
” When I give him another look, he shrugs.
“What? The professor said we’d get full credit as long as we turned it in. I turned it in, so full credit.”
I scoff, “It’s probably the only test you’ll get full credit on.”
“Ouch.”
“Am I wrong?”
“Nah, you’re not. I fucking hate tests.”
“If you hate tests, then why are you here? College is full of exams and papers and everything else you probably hate, too.” It’s strange—it’s easy to talk to him now, now that I got what I wanted from him. It isn’t like I have a crush on him; he can fall off a cliff and I wouldn’t care.
Well, maybe a little, because of stupid empathy, but you get what I mean.
Logan deadpans, “You mean you don’t think I’m here to further my education?
” He can barely finish the question before he makes himself laugh.
“Fuck no. I chose this school because I heard the party scene is hopping. You’re going to some parties this weekend, aren’t you?
First week of classes, there has to be plenty to choose from. ”
I stop walking and turn to look at him. Since it’s between classes, the sidewalks are pretty empty, meaning we aren’t in anyone’s way when we stop in the middle of the sidewalk. “I didn’t come here to party.”
He cocks his black-haired head at me. “You don’t say?”
Groaning, I mutter, “Why are you even talking to me?”
“Maybe I have a thing for nerds.” When I lift my eyebrows at him, he adds, “Or maybe I like the chase. I’ve never had to chase a girl before. It’s kind of fun.”
“Wow. You’re really full of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Is it that obvious?” He flashes me a smirk, and beneath that smirk is a set of pearly whites, teeth that are well taken care of.
“Look, I’m going to say it nice and slow so you can understand: I’m.
Not. Interested. What happened last week was just a…
I used you, okay? I just found out my boyfriend of four years was cheating on me with my best friend since second grade, for the last two years.
I wanted to forget, to see what it’s like.
You helped out, so thanks, but I don’t need anything else from you. ”
Wow, listen to me. I sound mean. That’s new for me, but I think it’s the only way to get it through this guy’s thick skull.
At least, I think I sound mean. I don’t think my voice wavers.
It might. Ugh, see? I’m not good at this stuff.
I’m not used to telling people off or being mean.
And, of course, bringing up my ex and my ex best friend makes me think of what I saw, and everything I try to keep buried down, all of the pain and hurt, that soul-shattering ache, rises to the surface, causing tears to form way too quickly.
I don’t want him to see me cry, so I quickly turn away from him and hurry along.
I don’t run away, but I do walk pretty darn fast. He doesn’t chase after me again, thank goodness, and I’m able to keep my tears contained until I get home.
It’s only when I’m alone in my room that I collapse on my bed and let it out.
This pain… when will it disappear for good?
When will it feel more like a scar and less like an open wound?
I hate it. I honestly hate it, and I hate the feelings that accompany it.
Feeling not good enough is the story of my life, but with Mike and Meghan going behind my back, they pretty much proved it to me.
I’m not good enough, no matter how hard I try.