Chapter 6
SIX
HE TOLD ME SO
A FEW WEEKS LATER
With a quick search for I Told You So in my emails, I pout when I see that my favorite blogger is still on hiatus.
Having hoped that I missed a notification, instead I find sweet FA.
Desultorily scanning an old blog post, one about something called ‘The Veronians Among Us,’ I glance away when I head up the stairs to find my usual spot in the philosophy lecture hall.
Because Professor Langton makes me nervous, this is the only class I’m ever early for—I don’t need to give the asshole ammunition.
“I hate him so much,” I mutter out loud as Callan Korhonen slouches into the seat two away from mine.
I don’t know him that well, but in the month or so that we’ve shared this class, I’ve learned that we’re kindred spirits on the ‘we despise Professor Langton’ train.
IMO, that makes him the best kind of people.
“He gave me a C on my last paper,” Callan growls. “A C. I didn’t get a C in track or basketball and I suck at both. I’m not a C person, Denver.”
“Oh, stop showing off.” I scrunch my nose at him. “I wish I were getting Cs. My major sucks.”
“Only a poor workman blames his tools.”
Tossing a book at him, I enjoy his ooooofff.
“For that, you can help me with this week’s paper.”
His eyes widen. “Really?”
Is that excitement I hear?
“I thought you hated philosophy as much as I do.”
“I don’t. I hate the professor. I love philosophy. It’s helping me with…”
When his words wane, I arch a brow. “With?”
“My TTRPG.”
“And that is?”
“Never mind.”
“I think Zach likes that.”
“Zach Bradley? I doubt it.”
“Zach might be, act, and look like a jock, but he has the heart of a dork. Just get him talking about Lord of the Rings or Red Mist.”
“He likes Red Mist? Huh.”
“That crazy game with the guilds and stuff? Yup. He and my brother Logan eat it up. When they announced it was the first hybrid MOBA/first-person tactical hero shooter going to be played at NACE level, I think they were considering switching from hockey to that.” I tap my chin.
“You’re in computer science, too, huh?” At his nod, I muse, “How do you feel about helping my buddy Pecan out with that as well?”
“You want me to tutor you both?”
“Informally.” I shoot him a winsome smile. “I’ll paint your nails as a thank you.”
He pulls a face. “I don’t want you to paint my nails.”
“You just think you don’t.”
Before he can respond, Professor Langton strolls into the room with a battered briefcase he dumps on the table.
As is his way, he doesn’t say anything, just waits for the class to realize he’s there.
It’s a bizarre power play. Bizarre, mostly, because it doesn’t work.
“You’re sending him the evil eye. It’ll bring him over here,” Callan surprises me by muttering as he drags his things out from his satchel and sets up for the lecture.
“He’s such a misogynistic pig,” a woman steams behind me.
I peek over my shoulder. “You got that right. I know you from the diner, don’t I?”
“Victoria Vasov.” She twists a strand of white-blonde hair around her finger. Although the move’s pure Barbie, nothing about this girl is that. “You probably recognize my housemate Shay more than me.”
“Ohhh, cute brunet, right? Tall as hell and with a face that belongs on a billboard?”
“That’s the one. Though, it’s not his face that belongs on a billboard.” She winks. “If you get my drift.”
“You’re dating?”
Her eyes flash. “Shit! He’s coming.”
Swiftly, I stare straight ahead, not wanting to catch Langton’s ire.
Too late.
He’s moved so that I’m straight in his line of sight, but before he can even open his mouth, Callan decides to surprise me again.
Leaning forward like the eager beaver I know he isn’t, because he rarely answers questions or instigates discussions in class, he calls out, “Professor, I was thinking about how everyone says Nietzche isn’t a nihilist, but I believe in Beyond Good and Evil, he’s arguing for moral nihilism, meaning that even the most horrific actions aren’t inherently wrong—”
Langton, pissed at anyone besmirching his idol, stacks his hands onto his hips and decimates Callan’s basic-bitch arguments.
Leaving me out of the guy’s crosshairs…
Honestly, Langton’s leg is so easy to pull.
At the end of class, I grab Callan’s arm when he gets to his feet. “Thanks for that, Callan. You didn’t have to go to bat for me.”
“No worries. I noticed last week that he always gives you shit. It doesn’t seem fair to me. Plus, you know, you offered me a manicure,” he jokes.
“My dad said I’d have a problem with him.”
He pauses mid-stowing away of his laptop. “Why?”
“Something to do with a stunt he pulled when they were attending Oakwood together.”
“Huh.”
“Huh?”
“We’re both legacies.”
I gag. “I don’t even want to hear that word for another twenty years.”
“Twenty?”
“I’m not sold on having kids at all. Before my thirties would be pushing it.”
“That’s kinda personal information.”
“I overshare.”
“Apparently.” He chokes out a laugh. “Wanna grab coffee and we can work on our homework together? I-I know you have that modern civilizations’ paper deadline looming—” He clears his throat. “I-I just mean, you know, the tutoring thing, like you said, um, yeah.”
Pursing my lips, I study his abashed expression. That he can’t catch my eye makes me think of the worst.
“Did Dr. Morris ask you to tutor me?”
“No, but I happened to see the last grade she gave you…”
“How did you see that?”
“I was in the row behind you.” He shrugs. “It’s fine if you don’t want to, but I always ace history. It’s just Langton that doesn’t know how to grade papers.”
“I’m not acing anything.” I shove my own laptop into my bag then sling it on my back. “College sucks.” I pull a face. “Okay, that’s a lie. College wouldn’t suck if I could do the courses I wanted.”
“Which would you prefer?”
“PR all the way, baby. Comms and marketing. If not that, then full humanities core.” I release a wistful sigh.
“But my dad nixed that idea when I didn’t get a scholarship.
” Rather than head out, I plunk my butt down on the seat I just left and stare up at the ceiling.
“You ever wonder what your purpose is, Callan?”
“That’s a very intense question for a conversation when both of us are due in other classes, Denver.”
Doesn’t stop him taking a seat next to me…
“Lately, I’m thinking about it all the time.”
That and all kinds of strange things.
Like why am I even in college when I suck at everything?
I’m not dumb. At least, I didn’t think I was. Until I came to college.
When did my best friend get hot enough to be a distraction?
Sure, Zach’s always been cute. But this cute?
Why are Mom and Dad so fixated on me not getting into Pi Beta Epsilon?
It’s not like my tomboy self belongs in a sorority. Honestly, I’d fit better into a frat house!
These are the things keeping me up at night right now.
“Can’t you pick up some more classes you enjoy?”
“Wanna know something ironic?”
“Sure.”
“Philosophy is one of the few classes I picked for me and I’m fucking that up by being my dad’s daughter.” I roll my head to look at him. “You’re easy to talk to. Did you know that?”
“I didn’t know that, but I’m picking up on this character flaw—” When my cheeks tinge pink and I surge upright in embarrassment, he grabs my arm. “I didn’t mean you.” He tugs me back down. “I was talking to the dean before class—”
“The dean!” I sputter.
“Yeah. It doesn’t matter why, but he was telling me about his kidney stones.” He gags. “Like I needed to know about them.”
“Why was he talking to you in the first place?”
“We’re both legacies. Remember?”
“Huh. Maybe I should be glad he didn’t want to talk to me. Dad’s pretty successful. It might have been a possibility.”
He looks away. “What’s he do?”
“Sports agent.”
“I didn’t mean to make you embarrassed. My sisters-in-law tell me that I’m too blunt for the real world.”
“Nah, I like that. Give me blunt over bullshit.” I tap my fingers on the table. “You really don’t mind helping me with my coursework?”
“Not at all.”
“What’s in it for you?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “You’re probably the first person I’ve talked to since I got here that’s my age. And that I’m not paying to talk to me.”
The strange phrasing has me studying him. “You pay people to talk to you?”
“You know, like, servers?”
“Ohhh.” I snigger. “I thought you meant sex workers.”
“Yeah. Right. That’d be crazy. Anyway, I do share computer science with Pecan and he’s pretty cool. I saw you meeting up at Dopie's two days ago and realized you were buds. I recognized you from class too and…” He shrugs. “…figured you might talk to me.”
“That’s very candid of you.”
“Blunt (adjective). That’s me.”
“Yeah, for sure. But tell me if I’m taking up too much of your time?”
“Why would you be?”
“You don’t know how much I suck at this.”
He smirks. “Stick with me, kid, and I’ll get you through it.”
When he holds out his hand, I stare at it.
I go to fist-bump him and he makes to shake mine.
Then, I make to shake his and he goes to fist-bump me.
Laughing, I clasp his fist and shake that. “Here’s to talking me through it.”
When he sputters, I just chuckle.
This might, might, MIGHT make my major fun…