I laugh, too, and I feel so much better. I’ve been with Delia through breakups and relationship trauma. She’s been around the block enough to give me advice, and not only does what she’s saying make sense, it's something I want to anyway.
We all love advice that tells us what we want to hear. In fact, sometimes that’s all we hear…
“But, wait, girl, seriously,” Delia says. “How the hell did this happen?”
“I was jogging and I ran into Ethan — literally, ran into his perfect damn body,” I say, my eyes rolling back in my head remembering how he felt. “And these guys were saying gross shit to me. One tried to attack me, and I ran into Ethan. I…I think Ethan beat the shit out of him, honestly.”
I look at Delia. She’s impressed. “Girl, good on him. Lucky he was there, and badass that he knocked the shit out of that asshole. I get so sick of that shit.”
“Yeah, me too. And…Delia, fuck,” I groan out. “When I touch him I lose all my sense.”
Delia pats my shoulder. “That’s because you got it bad. I’ve been there.” Delia shoots me a smile and I return it.
I feel much better having talked this out, and I want to just take her advice and try and get Ethan out of my system, but I also don’t know if that’s wise. At least I feel ready to take action — whatever that action may be, rather than wallowing.
I hug Delia. “Thanks so much. I really needed this.”
She kisses me on the forehead. “Of course, girl. We look out for each other.”
And Delia is so right. I can always count on her. Makes me feel bad about masturbating my way out of one of our coffee dates, but I bore no ill will when Delia made out with a boyfriend too long and missed one before. Shit happens.
You gotta do what you gotta do, right?
Emmaline
“You’re very fortunate, Miss Travers, to be in Dr. Wesley’s section,” Mrs. Simone repeats for, perhaps, the third time since I came to see her. The registrar is annoyed that I’m ungrateful.
What am I supposed to say? Sorry, I can’t be in this class because either I need to get away from him because I want to bang him, or I need to get out of his class so I can bang him? While both seem like totally valid reasons, I don’t think that I’m going to be able to pull one of those out for Mrs. Simone.
“Why would you want to change out of a class with a professor that’s foremost in his field, in your major?” Mrs. Simone gives me her best stern look.
Normally I’d feel the need to stick around for more chastisement; normally, I’d be able to simply tell the truth.
Today?
Today I have no fucking patience for this.
“Why would I expect you to simply tell me there are no other sections available when you could purport to be allowed in my business instead?” I barely recognize myself when those words come out of my mouth, holy shit. I don’t know if I should be horrified or proud, but my body is walking me out of the registration office anyway so that’s a problem for another day.
Because today’s problem is figuring out what the hell I should do.
I have to go back to class, and that’s the option I was trying to avoid. As it is, I don't want to be late, so I pick up my pace. My nonathletic sneakers have taken a real beating, but I’m grateful for their worn soles because my flats are in terrible shape right now. Even still, the pavement is harsher than normal as I hightail to Ethan’s class.
I sit in the already crowded lecture hall and let myself look. I mean, really look and drink Ethan in. The stadium seating means that he’s on a stage for me, like this, and I can see head to toe what a formidable, delectable man he really is. Fuck, a girl could lose her GPA, her mind, her scholarships over a man like this…and this girl might be me.
Today’s lecture begins with him writing a single word on the board.
GRATUITOUS.
Well, shit.
That’s so not the word that I want to watch him sprawl over the board. When Ethan turns around of course I don’t know whether to look at the strong muscles moving beneath his jacket or the gorgeous shape of his ass.
“When details are gratuitous, they detract, rather than add, to a work of writing,” Ethan begins.
I inhale. Sure thing. I start taking notes.
“For a quality piece of writing, you always want to direct your readers. Lead them to where you want them to be.”
Fuck.
I know that’s a bit of a reach…but I swear I see that little smirk Ethan made between my legs. Making me cum. That’s enough to make me shiver in my seat. But he doesn’t mean anything about us, he’s giving an English lecture for class.