Chapter 3 Ava #2
My cry of surprise as I sat on a person echoed off the walls, stopping Professor Matson mid-stride. A hundred pairs of eyes swiveled to look at me as the professor strode across the room and flicked on the lights.
Jett Santo grinned back at me as he straightened, fixing his jeans before he casually flung his arm against the back of my intended chair.
Wordlessly, I noticed the girl, who had been half draped over the chair beside him, slipping off the seat and scuttling along the aisle, trying to keep out of sight as her friends giggled at her and covered her as she reached them.
“What is going on?” Professor Matson demanded.
Jett raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow as he looked at me in question. What the hell was I going to say?
“Speak!” the professor demanded.
“I . . .” I swallowed past my building fury and turned to the professor, my hands raised in supplication. “I thought I saw a rat.” Technically speaking, I wasn’t lying.
Several answering squeals and the sounds of shuffles as many students raised their feet from the floor ensued, and it took several minutes for the professor to regain control of the class.
The whole time, I sat rigidly in the seat that the girl’s body had been in, while Jett sat smugly beside me, his smirk in place as his shoulders shook in silent laughter.
How had this turned into my afternoon? Ash, Leitch, and now Jett. Where was Gray? They might as well have just thrown them all at me and gotten it over with.
“Have you all calmed down?” Professor Matson asked sternly while she glared at me. When she heard enough mumbles of assent, she motioned to the TA to dim the lights. “As I was saying,” she said as she turned back to the screen.
“You owe me a finish.” Jett’s smooth voice caused my jaw to clench and my hand to curl into a fist.
“Don’t be a pig,” I whispered back furiously. “You’re disgusting.”
“Didn’t stop you looking,” he said smugly as he leaned back in his seat.
I opened my mouth to reply and snapped it shut again. Angling away from him, I tried my best to focus on the lecture, but the presence of him sitting next to me was distracting.
The mounting horror that he may recognize me was making me nervous. How would the conversation even go? Hey, I’m the girl you slept with, you took my virginity, and I then hurled in your bathroom for an hour. Wanna grab a coffee and tell me how we hooked up in the first place?
No, thank you.
And look at him, in History of Writing class, and he had a girl giving him a blow job. What a complete asshole. I couldn’t believe I fell for his shit. If there was shit to fall for, which I still wasn’t clear on . . . either way, he was an asshole.
I was never drinking again.
Ever.
I always knew he was a dick. He proved it on Saturday morning, and he hammered the fact home just now.
They were the Devils; they were the complete antithesis of not only their own last names but also the school they played for.
They didn’t give a fuck about anyone but themselves and football.
They broke rules, they partied where they shouldn’t, and they took what they wanted.
They had an almost cult-like following, and they pissed me off.
In high school, our football team was also made up of the popular kids, but here, the Santo boys took it to the next level.
They were considered gods on the field, and they were considered gods off of it.
All three of them were free with who they slept with, and I’d heard the rumors; they were apparently not lacking in skill in the bedroom either.
The fact that they all had the smarts to be here rubbed salt in the wound even more.
I detested them and had done so long before I got my scholarship here.
Their high school team played mine once in junior year.
Gray had caught every pass Jett had thrown, and then Ash had scored the winning touchdown.
Then, when our team was commiserating our loss, the three of them and their teammates had torched a devil sign into the front lawn of my school.
No one could prove it. The fact that it had been a devil’s trident meant nothing. It could be someone trying to make trouble for them, the authorities said.
Bullshit.
I’d been told that, when our team had asked if anyone had actually asked either the Santos or the rest of their team, no one had been able to answer them.
This afternoon only confirmed what I already knew: Jett Santo would never know what I gave him on Friday night, and if I never spoke to him again, it would be too soon.
As my resolve strengthened, I started paying attention to class.
As my focus became more about Romeo Montague and less about Jett Santo, I felt my inner calm settle.
One night didn’t mean anything. I made a mistake. I was a nineteen-year-old girl in college. It wouldn’t be my last mistake, but I knew as I got lost in the greatest tragedy ever told, that he was a mistake that wasn’t worth getting worked up over.
As the lecture finished and the lights turned back up, I stood and gathered my bag. A large hand encircled my wrist, preventing me from leaving. The tingles running up my arm caused me to hesitate fractionally before I jerked out of his grip.
“What?” I snapped at him.
“Wait,” he told me as his eyes ran over my jeans and T-shirt.
“Why?” I scoffed as I put my book bag over my shoulder. “Not interested in the second take of your live porn show.”
“I haven’t seen you in this class before,” Jett said as he stood, and I had to take a step back to look up at him.
“Given what you were doing during class, I can understand why.”
“Judgmental,” he murmured as he stepped into my space, and I instinctively stepped backward. His head tilted as he studied me. “Uptight little thing, aren’t you?”
“No, asshole. I just know a sleazeball when I see one.” He was far too close to me. My stupid body was reacting to him, like it recognized him. Good God, he was intimidating, but sweet baby Jesus, he really was hot.
“I don’t think I like you,” Jett declared as he looked me over again.
Asshole.
“I don’t think I care.” With a tight smile, I turned away from him and made my way down the stairs.
What a complete douche. At the doors, I couldn’t help myself, and I looked back up at him.
The girl from the floor was talking to him, her hand on his arm, her thumb rubbing his bicep as she plastered herself to his side.
Jett wasn’t paying any attention to her; his eyes were locked on mine. His trademark smirk appeared as he stared at me. Swallowing past the sudden lump in my throat, I flicked him the finger before I turned my head away and walked out of the class.
Tossing my blonde hair over my shoulder, I headed outside.
Putting my sunglasses on to cut out the glare of the Tennessee sun, I decided today’s encounter was actually a good thing.
We didn’t circulate in the same groups, and chances were this was the last time we would ever be face-to-face with each other again, and I was fine with that.
Jett Santo was nothing but a hiccup, and I was ready to move past it. Notch him down to experience, I told myself. A bad one? Possibly. But an experience, nevertheless. And in my favor, he had no idea who he had notched into his bedpost, and he would never know.
I knew that this was a win for me. As I walked out into the sunshine, I recognized that, as crummy as it felt right now, I would take the win.