12. Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Maeve Henderson
Today was the last environmental conservation class before finals.
We're given a two-week break from all classes before our finals. It's a weird system, but I like it.
It guarantees we all have adequate time to study without taking time off work.
It's really considerate of them; even better, it gives me two weeks without Professor Turner.
Every single week, he targets me.
I'm the girl who's killing the environment. I'm the inconsiderate one.
First, it was my spray deodorant, so I switched to all-natural deodorant.
It smells like blueberries, and I swear I've been chased by bees a few times already, but it's better for the planet.
Next, it was my shoes.
He lectured me about how killing animals for fast fashion is sick and twisted and that my not eating animal products is wasted by wearing suede shoes.
He wouldn't even let me tell him the suede was vegan and that I thrifted them, that I haven't been able to afford to pay full price for any clothing since high school.
It doesn't matter, every week is something different.
Every week, he’s mad about something new, but it's always me that he’s mad at.
I've never seen him target anyone else, ever.
The man who sits in front of me drives a big, gas-guzzling car and eats steak every single day, yet he doesn't pester him about his impact on the earth.
I don't get it. I don't understand what I did wrong to piss this guy off, and it's getting to me more than it should.
This week, I don't even know how I became the target of his rage.
He asked about people driving cars, saying driving alone is worse for the environment than carpooling or taking public transportation.
So he asked who takes public transportation as their means of getting around. When I raised my hand, he immediately started yelling at me that it would be so much better for the environment if I walked and that walking is good for you and it's free.
He said I’m killing the planet by refusing to walk two miles to school every day.
To make matters worse, the students who weren't agreeing with him were laughing at me for not having a car.
I don't understand how I've been the laughingstock of this class since the first day! I didn't do anything wrong, and I'm nice to everyone.
I let someone borrow my last pen a few weeks ago!
I don't know what I did to earn all their hate.
I know their harsh words and laughter aren't that bad, but it's piling onto the weight that already feels like it's crushing me.
Between the stress of finals, the nightmare that I may have to go home for the summer, and my pathetic financial stability, I'm one bad day away from a nervous breakdown.
For now, I'm just the idiot crying as I sprint away from my class.
I hate crying in public; it's embarrassing, yet here we are, wiping tears from my eyes the entire way to the dining hall.
I'm not even hungry; I just want to skip the rest of my classes and sleep. I just want to curl up on my bed and not leave again for a week, but I have my last class in microbiology after lunch, and we're supposed to be getting a brief outline of what to study for the final.
I can't skip that. Microbiology is my most challenging class so far. I barely passed it my first year, and last year, I skated by with a B-.
I have to pass this class, it’s required for my degree.
Crap.
I just want to curl up in a ball and pity myself, but at least Shelby will be at lunch, and she always makes me feel better.
She's somehow slowly replacing Carlie as my best friend.
Shelby is sweet, funny, and outgoing, but she also cares.
She makes sure my meals aren't contaminated, she’s willing to yell at the servers if something isn't right, and she sometimes stays in with me when the rest of the group goes out to party.
Carlie has never done that; we haven't had a single Friday night alone in our apartment since college started; she always ditches me for the bar.
The longer I'm friends with Shelby, the more I realize how little Carlie actually contributed to our friendship. It breaks my heart to think my best friend cares so little about me, but at least I have Shelby.
Speaking of, Shelby is already in the dining hall when I walk in.
My beautiful best friend is arguing with someone who attempted to grab from the gluten-free section while having bread and other things on his tray.
She is yelling that she watched him pick up his bread with his bare hands before touching some of the food and the tongs in the gluten-free section.
I would've been too scared to say anything, but everything in that section is contaminated now, and I would've had to skip lunch if she wasn't there to yell at them.
I watch the workers rush around, grabbing everything and putting it on the other side of the dining hall while another worker scrubs every surface in my little safe corner.
Thank goodness for Shelby!
Speaking of, she spins around and smiles as soon as she sees me. “Hey, darling, it'll be like 20 minutes before they're ready to serve.” She says sweetly.
I happily accept the hug she pulls me into, feeling myself melt into her embrace. “I wasn't hungry anyway.” I admit.
Shelby pulls me back by my shoulders, sighing heavily as she holds me at arm's length. “What did that asshole, Turner do today?” She asks.
It's taking every ounce of willpower I have not to cry, and I feel stupid for being that on edge.
I want to respond, but I can't. I can't say anything without cracking like a cheap plastic cup, so instead, I just shrug.
Shelby finally releases my shoulders, wrapping one of her arms around me as she practically pulls me out of the dining hall. “Come on, darling, let's talk about it at your place, okay?” She asks.
All I can manage is a nod as Shelby walks with me back to my apartment.
I have to admit, the walk isn't that bad when Shelby is with me. She holds my hand the entire time and casually talks in what I assume is her attempt to make me forget about my class.
It's not working, but it does make the walk more tolerable.
That, and when I look behind me, I see that fancy car Leon drives at a stop sign right behind us, but it turns once I notice it.
I'm sure it's just a coincidence. I've seen him around campus a few dozen times, but he is always walking away, or it's from a distance.
It's not surprising if he works there, I'm just paranoid and somehow convinced that everything in the world revolves around me.
Why else would I see Leon and automatically assume that he's there for me?
I've tried to figure out what he teaches, but the directory only lists the first initial and their last name. That doesn't help me much since I only know his first name.
They should add pictures to the website.
I should suggest that.
Why am I thinking about this? Why do I even care?
I don't know why I even want to find him so badly other than to thank him for the apple cider and insist he take his very nice canvas bags back.
I was able to sip on that apple cider for months! It was the perfect way to start my mornings. I'd warm up a little cup of it and sip on it every morning on the patio and pretend that my life was normal and that I wasn't fighting to survive.
It would've lasted even longer, but Carlie finished the last little bit of it one random weekend.
That's okay; I know she and I both live for the yearly apple cider, and I'm sure it made her day as much as it made mine the entire time I had it.
Shelby keeps my hand in hers as she pulls me through my apartment and tosses my bag on the couch before going upstairs. “Sit, tell me what Turner did.” She insists.
I don't know what that finally breaks me, but it does. I'm yet again a fragile plastic cup, now with all of the week's stress pouring out of the cracks within me.
I rant about how rude the rich kids in my class are and how they laugh at me for not being able to live the same lifestyle they do; I tell her about Professor Turner siding with the rich kids despite my lifestyle inadvertently being better for the planet than Brad or whatever his name is and his monstrous SUV that gets roughly a mile a gallon.
I rant about how even when I answer everything correctly and know exactly what Turner asks, I'm still the laughing stock.
Even when I'm correct, he's mad that I didn't elaborate on my answer more, and when I'm wrong, he's mad that I'm taking up valuable class time with my “pointless ramblings.”
I hate it.
I hate that this entire school year has been a disaster, but at least I'm almost done.
I only need one more year and I can put all of this behind me.
I hate putting all this onto Shelby, but she reassures me she has broad shoulders and can take it. She lets me get everything out of my system, all while she hugs onto me and runs her hand through my hair.
“Lay down; maybe a nap will help you feel better. I'll rub your shoulders until you fall asleep.” She insists.
I shake my head, moving to stand up, but she stops me. She pushes me back onto my bed. “I'll get the outline for your class, microbiology, right? I'm sure I know someone in that class; just go put your pajamas on.” She says more sternly in her flawless southern belle accent.
How can I argue with her when she sounds so smooth and stern?
Why would I want to?
I hop up and head into the bathroom, changing into my silky pink shorts and matching tank top before going back into the bedroom and back to Shelby.
I don't even argue; I just lay face-first on my bed, hug my pillow, and let Shelby take over.
Her hands dig into my tense muscles, rubbing out the countless knots in my neck and shoulders as she makes her way further and further down my back until her hands start to knead my butt.
I groan loudly and immediately blush a deep, bright red.
I can't believe that noise just came out of me.
“Sorry.” I say nervously, but Shelby doesn't respond.
She doesn't react in any way other than to continue to rub my butt, going lower and lower every few seconds until her hands are at the hem of my shorts and rubbing my bare thighs.
Her hands slide into my shorts, rubbing my bare skin as she makes her way higher and higher until her thumbs are grazing my back hole, and I feel myself tense.
Why is she touching me like this?
Better yet, why do I like it?
"Relax, darling. I'm just going to make you feel good, okay?" She asks me.
I feel boneless, a melting puddle on my bed from her magic hands, and I can't fathom an answer beyond a mumbled “mhm.”
She trails her hands lower until her thumbs start tracing my lower lips.
I want to kick her away and put five layers of clothes between us, but I also don't want to stop her.
I want to lift my hips and let her pull my shorts off of me.
I don't know how I feel about that.
I thought I may have liked women when I was younger, but my mother convinced me that it wasn't true, that I was simply a confused idiot child.
She shamed me until I pushed that part of myself so far down that it hadn't surfaced again until now.
Her thumbs continue to rub along my lower lips, parting me gently. "Is this okay?" She asks me.
Is it?
"Yes..." I say quietly. I'm unsure, but I want it.
I want her.
Shelby tugs on the waistband of my shorts, making me lift my hips while she slides them down my thighs and tosses them across the room.
Once I'm more exposed than I've ever been around another person, she grips my hips and pulls me until I sit up onto my knees and sink my chest into the mattress.
I heard her mutter something about me having a cute pussy, I don't know. I think I'm delusional, but it makes me blush.
I feel her hands rub my bare butt, spreading my cheeks and spreading my lower lips. Her thumb starts rubbing my back hole, making me groan and lean into her touch.
Why do I like that so much?
I'm not prepared to find that out right now, not when her tongue licks a path through my sex until she flicks my clit and my body involuntarily jerks at the touch.
"Oh, you taste so good." She groans.
I know I should feel embarrassed hearing someone tell me that, but I'm not. I like it, I love it, actually.
I don't even have time to decide on a response when I feel her face buried between my legs and her tongue shove into me.
I feel her tongue flicking and thrusting into me while her nails dig into my hips and her nose pushes against my butt.
It all feels so good that I can't form a thought other than that I'd scream if she stopped.
Her thumb starts to probe my back hole, pushing slightly into me and making my body tense, but it all feels so good that I want to scream.
I'm having to bite down on my pillow like a lifeline to prevent myself from screaming out while she treats me like her last meal before the execution.
I feel the knot in my stomach getting tighter and tighter, my orgasm getting so close to the surface that I want to scream out in bliss.
Stars dance across my closed eyelids, lighting up the otherwise darkness.
She pulls her face away from me, making me whine and want to beg her to continue, but when two slender fingers replace her tongue, and her lips wrap around my clit and start to suck gently, I feel myself fall.
I feel myself tip over into ecstasy on her tongue, and I feel her lap up every drop of my orgasm until my knees are shaking, and I'm desperate to drop onto the bed.
"Don't you feel better now?" Shelby asks sweetly when she's done.
I flop onto my mattress, turning onto my side to stare at her with a raised eyebrow.
Was that what this was?
To make me feel better? Sure, it worked at the time, but now I'm just worried that this was a pity orgasm.
"This was nice and all, but you can't tell anyone about this." She tells me.
That hurts a little, but I understand. If my mother found out what had just happened, she'd somehow find a way to have me kicked out of school.
She doesn't give me a dime; in fact, I had to take out student loans and take months applying for scholarships, but I'm sure she'd find a way to ruin my life simply because I'm interested in women.
So, I agree.
What other choice do I have?