Chapter 22 Ava
Professor Matson was in full flight as she presented her class that afternoon.
Her enthusiasm was rubbing off on me, and I had caught myself leaning forward a couple of times, engaged in her lecture about the self-destructive tendencies of Romeo.
But leaning forward, I stuck my head out of the row I was in, and at the very end of that row, perched like an Angel of Death, sat Jett Santo.
He never looked my way. He made no effort to catch my attention, but I was acutely aware of him.
There had to be about ten or eleven people between us, but it felt like I could reach out and touch him.
I wasn’t sure he knew I was in the same row as he was, but I no longer believed in coincidences when it came to Jett.
My week had been torturous hell. Almost every person was accusing me of either being a thief or a slut.
At first, I’d been confused, and then I heard that I was apparently begging him to sleep with me, and he kept saying no.
He or his psycho family had told people I was a whore, a desperate whore, who was begging to be with him. Bastard.
Mia had advised we ignore it and pretend like it didn’t matter, and I had, but it was hard.
The beginning of the week was terrible, so bad that I ended up hiding in the library.
On Tuesday, the dark-haired girl from the class Shane and I had — who I now knew was called Elise — spilled her smoothie all over me in the cafeteria, and when I had jumped to my feet amid all the laughter and insults, I’d looked up at his table to see him and his brother laughing along with everyone else.
He’d had the audacity to wink at me before I turned and almost ran from the cafeteria, before I either burst into tears in a temper or punched his smirking face in.
But I couldn’t do anything because I was on probation.
Dean Porter had confronted me about my side hustle with Wade’s band, and after he had lectured me, he looked over all my records.
He even had emails from my professors about my performances in class.
Professor Windsor, or Joe as I would happily call him now, had sent a really supportive email, which seemed to have impressed the dean.
However, the fact of the matter was, I’d been stupid and careless with the gift that was my scholarship.
The dean had me on a six-month probation, so I couldn’t afford to put a foot wrong, which is why Elise didn’t get a smack in the mouth.
There was no escape, though. Today, I’d had a few comments already flung my way this morning, asking if being chased was my turn on and how many dicks I was willing to suck at once.
It was unnerving. I was the girl who blended in.
One night with Jett and then a sprint across the green away from him, and I was suddenly desirable .
. . and it wasn’t in a complimentary way.
It meant I was a cheap lay. Funny, I never heard any comments from anyone asking Jett if he was willing to chase them.
Double standards. Unacceptable in this day and age.
Yet, still it was present. I was a cheap whore, and he was a conquering god. Pathetic.
Ducking my head back out of his line of sight in case he looked my way, I settled back in my seat. I couldn’t even accuse the fucker of spreading the rumors, as I had no proof. As always, a Devil was blameless.
“Hey, hey, you.”
I froze and turned to the guy behind me. “Me?”
“Yeah, you, whatsyername?”
“Why?” I whispered suspiciously as I took in his smug grin and his friend, who was also watching me.
“Is it true what you did when you got caught?” he asked with a sly grin.
Ugh, enough with the bullshit. “No,” I snapped as I turned around again.
“That’s not what I heard,” he continued to whisper behind me. Inching forward in my seat, I edged away from him. “Heard you blew the Devils. Both of them. Like they tag teamed you.”
I tried to focus once again on the professor. I had been in that building for five minutes. How the fuck would I have done both of them? Realizing this wasn’t the point, I furiously did my best to ignore the whispers behind me as they got more and more derogatory and preposterous.
“You been double dipped?” the guy asked a little louder, causing several answering snickers, and that was it, I’d had enough. A girl could only take so much, and I had endured a week of this.
“Quit it!” I was on my feet, and I was so angry I didn’t care that I had once again stopped Professor Matson’s class. “You repulsive dick, what gives you the right to talk to me like that?” I demanded with my hands on my hips.
“Is there a problem?” Professor Matson asked curiously, and when I met her enquiring look, I realized she recognized who I was. “You . . . again?”
“Sorry.” I turned back to the guy behind me when I heard his snigger. I didn’t recognize him, but that meant nothing. “Keep your mouth shut, or I’ll shove my hand so far up your ass it’ll be your tonsils that are getting tickled. Do you feel me, asshole?”
The lecture room was silent for a brief moment before the class erupted into laughter.
My face was red from temper, whereas his was red from embarrassment.
Turning back to face forward, I gave the professor an apologetic look, who acknowledged it with a slight incline of her head.
I could feel him staring at me, and almost like a magnetic pull, I turned my head to look.
Jett sat at the end with his left leg stretched out in front of him.
His left arm was draped casually along his desk, and his right arm rested loosely across his armrest. His head was turned my way, and when our eyes met, that smug smirk slowly tipped his mouth upward.
He looked . . . triumphant. I didn’t know why that was the word that I associated with him, but it was.
Suddenly, it was replaced by one of coldness as his eyes flicked over me before he faced the front of the lecture room.
“Bitch,” the guy whispered behind me as the professor once again resumed her lecture.
“Shut the fuck up,” I snarled back.
I felt the kick at the back of my chair, but with my hand clutching my pen so tightly and the other one gripping my desk, I knew better than to turn around.
“Ignore it.”
Turning my head slightly, I looked at the guy beside me. “It’ll be over soon.” He must have known I wasn’t following. “The Santos will have someone new to torture, and you’ll be forgotten.” His look of pity made me feel worse than anything the douchebag had said behind me.
With a brief smile at him for being decent, I tried my best to focus back on the lecture.
But all I could think about was the horrible rumors and assumptions that people were making about me.
Realizing what I had been putting off, I knew I needed to talk to Jett, and then this would be over. I was sure of it.
As the lecture came to a close, the professor asked me to stay behind.
It wasn’t completely unexpected. I idled at her desk while she spoke briefly to her TA, and on his way out, I once again made eye contact with Jett.
His trademark smirk made me want to punch him, and I hastily looked at my feet to break eye contact.
“So, again I find myself with a disrupted class,” Professor Matson said as she came over to me. “Can you tell me what happened today?”
“The guy behind me was saying . . . unpleasant things. I tried to ignore him, but he just wouldn’t quit. I didn’t mean to lose my temper.” I took a breath as it rushed out. “Or cause a scene.”
“Another scene,” she reminded me. Her long brown hair was pulled back from her face, but hung in waves down her back.
Black, leopard print glasses, with a white collar showing under her emerald green sweater, she was an attractive woman.
I imagined that she would probably tick the boxes of the professor pin-up fantasy.
“Yeah, um, that time it was a rat.”
Her head tilted to the side as she looked at me. “What’s your name?”
“Ava Bryant, ma’am.”
“Ava, do you think I’m blind?” she asked me curiously as she looked me over. “Do you think I don’t know who the star quarterback for the Saints is?”
“Um, I . . .”
“And do you think I wouldn’t know who his teammates are?”
The guy wasn’t Jett’s teammate, but I decided now was not the time to tell her that. “Um.”
“Ava, let me give you some advice. Woman to woman.”
Huh?
“They are not interested. They are here for football and to perform for scouts. Academia is not their priority, I know this, and I am sure you do too. What I don’t know, is it yours?”
“Yes.” I nodded vigorously.
“Good, ignore the boys in the class and concentrate on your degree. Unfortunately, you will mean nothing to them. Even if you’re a warm body one night, it is unlikely that you will stay that way. You need to focus on you.”
Oh my God, was she parenting me? It was weirdly sweet but also truly, horrifyingly awkward. “Um, yeah,” I stumbled. “Um, thanks.”
“Good girl. No outbursts next week, okay?” She rubbed my upper arm as she smiled at me, and in a cloud of awkwardness, I departed her class.
As soon as the door closed behind me, I was fishing out my phone. I needed to tell Mia.
Me: Prof Matson just gave me the sex talk
Me: Like hashtag awkward?
Mia: I’m heading into class — tell me everything but I won’t be able to respond
Mia: and it’s #awkward dork
I laughed out loud, which turned into a squeal when hands grabbed me, and I was jerked into an empty classroom.
“What the hell?” I yelled as I was pushed forward, and catching myself from stumbling, I straightened before turning with fury to feel all my rage dissipate when I met the sky-blue eyes of a Devil. “Jett?”
“I hear you wanted to talk to me?” he asked me with an almost friendly look. I watched as his right hand reached over, lazily rubbing over the bicep on his fully tattooed left arm.