8. Priestley #2
I’m sure they did, but they knew better than to say them to my face.
He starts saying my name under his breath.
“Priestley, Priest, Rosenthal, Rosen …” He snaps his fingers. “Got it!” He’s wearing that evil grin again. I do my best to keep a neutral expression on my face. “Rosie.”
My nostrils flare and I recoil. “No.”
“What? You don’t like it?”
I learned a long time ago that if you show your weaknesses and let people know what bothers you, they have one more power to laud over you.
“I don’t care.”
“Fine, Rosie it is. I think that suits you much better anyway.”
No, he does not think it suits me better. No one on earth has ever looked at me and thought, Rosie. But if it keeps him occupied, whatever. Hopefully he’ll get bored with it before I’m inclined to bludgeon him to death with my laptop.
When I take out the book we fought over that first day and place it down on the desk, he eyes it longingly, like it’s a juicy steak. It may have been 1-0 to him with the nickname, but it’s all even again now.
The rest of our group show up and we get to work.
Will and I are obviously the strongest of the group, though Emily and Scott are capable enough to be competent deckhands to our captaining. Peter, as expected, is a liability. But any time I try to give Peter a hard time, Will jumps in to protect him or make excuses for his sloppiness.
About an hour into our session, Peter checks his watch and announces that he has to leave. Scott takes this as his cue to start packing up, too, and Emily quickly follows.
“Wait a minute, we’ve barely been here an hour,” I complain.
Emily gives me an apologetic shrug while continuing to pack her laptop away. Scott doesn’t even bother. I huff.
“Do you really want to stay bottom of that damn leaderboard?”
Scott gives me a glance that suggests he really doesn’t care and neither should I.
“Listen, man,” he says. I have to grit my teeth to stop from demanding he rescind that ‘man’ immediately. “We’re all getting a grad degree from Princeton here. Whatever happens, it’s all good.”
I splutter a response, but by the time it’s out, he’s already turned his back and is following Peter and Emily out of the library.
I turn to Will for backup.
“Did he just say we’re all getting a grad degree from Princeton, so it’s all good?”
Will just laughs.
What is wrong with all of them? “Doesn’t he understand how competitive the world of finance is? How many people have grad degrees from Ivy League schools? How much competition he’ll have out there in interviews? The fact that there’s a finite number of decent companies even hiring?”
“Relax, Rosie. Scott isn’t your problem.”
“While he’s in this group, he is.”
Will sighs. “Listen, we’ll figure it out. We can’t expect everyone to spend hours in the library, multiple times a week, when you just dictate shit to them anyway.”
“I do not ‘dictate shit.’”
“Uh, yeah. You do.”
I wait for him to start packing and leave, like the others. Instead, he leans back in the armchair and turns the page in the book he’d been reading from.
He’s manspreading and in sweatpants, that’s a seriously dangerous thing to do.
I follow the view from his sneakers to the bunched ankles of his sweats, then the baggy calves and the spot where the sweatpants tighten around his thighs.
My face flushes. When I glance up at him, he’s watching me with a raised eyebrow.
“Are you checking me out, Rosie?”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous. I was just thinking about how inappropriate your clothes are for a meeting.”
He sighs, slamming the book shut and leaning forward to put it on the table. When he rests his elbows on his thighs, his hoodie bunches and thankfully covers the parts I’d been trying not to look at.
“This isn’t your fancy fraternity, Rosie, or your country club. This is a college. Look around. There are people in sweatpants all around you.”
“This is Princeton, William. We should have standards.”
He looks like he’s contemplating continuing the argument. I ready myself for a retort, telling myself I can take whatever he throws at me. He runs a hand through his hair.
“Shall we just carry on without them? We can figure something out and discuss it with the rest of the group at our next meeting.”
I wasn’t expecting that. He has me tongue-tied, so I just nod.
It’s dark by the time we get out of the library. I only realize I’m starving when I hear Will’s stomach growl.
“What time is it?” he asks before consulting his phone. “Shit, the cafeteria will be closed by now.”
“Why don’t you just go home and order a pizza with your buddies? Isn’t that what jocks do?”
“Didn’t you play competitive tennis, Rosie?”
Okay, that Rosie thing is really starting to get on my nerves. When will he stop?
“Tennis players are mostly lean.”
His gaze flickers automatically over my body, like he’s checking to see if I’m telling the truth. I suddenly feel hot. I’m wearing a shirt and blazer and loose chinos, so it isn’t like he can even get a read on what my body looks like, but still.
I clear my throat. “We kept to a strict nutrition plan … well, most of us did. Some people still ate like pigs.” Nathan eating cold pizza from the fridge comes to mind. I shudder.
“Whatever. I’ll see you at class tomorrow.”
He heads off in the opposite direction from where my car is parked.
“Where are you going?” I call after him.
“Home,” he shouts back without turning around.
I should just let him walk or get the bus to wherever he’s going, but I want to get this group thing done to the highest standard, and for that, I need my number two in command well rested and well fed. It’s already going to be hard enough for him to focus while holding down two jobs.
“Don’t you want food?”
He stops and pauses before turning around. “Thought I’d just order pizza like a jock.” He grins. It’s infuriating. And for some reason, it causes heat to pool in the pit of my stomach.
“I know a place. A good all-night diner.”
He puts his hands in his pockets, hesitating.
“My treat,” I add.
He squints at me. “What are you after, Rosie?”
I’m too tired to keep in the groan this time.
“Maybe I can bribe you to stop using that god-awful nickname.”
He laughs, walking back to me. When he gets close, I get a whiff of cologne. It’s different to the kind I wear—it’s fresh and fruity.
“I’ll think about it,” he says.