“Thank you for stopping to help me. It was very nice of you,” she said politely, the sentiment snapping me right back to reality.
Nice? Don’t think so.
Her eyes measured me, waiting patiently for a response.
“Nice. Not normally what people say when they’re talking about me,” I said, finally seeing sense. What the f**k was going on?
I watched as her lips parted slightly, sucking in a sharp, shocked breath. I had to get the hell out of here, away from her, and stop acting like some damn dumbstruck pu**y. Hell, I was acting like Reece.
I walked off without looking back, realizing that was the longest damn conversation I’d had with anyone in a long time, and it didn’t involve anything about being the shitting oil prince of Bama or the next big football star. There was something different about her, something… intriguing. Like she didn’t give a shit what anyone thought of her, wasn’t caught up in the football hype. Her outfit and her reaction to me were proof of that. It was… refreshing, if not a little strange.
Almost as if I watched from a detached body, my boots abruptly ground to a halt and I looked over my shoulder. Brit girl was still standing on the same spot, still looking in my direction. “I’m Rome,” I offered, almost involuntarily, the words spilling out of my mouth as her eyes met mine.
Her long lashes fluttered down, touching the lenses of her glasses, and when they lifted, a shy smile transformed her face. “Molly.”
I nodded and licked my lips, roved my gaze down her body, then made my way to class.
“Rome Prince, I take it?” the stuffy new philosophy professor said with a raised gray eyebrow as I sauntered into the classroom, nodding a silent greeting and making my way to my seat on the back row. She’d no doubt been briefed; teachers knew the score when football was in season. Of course, those from outside the States never quite got their heads around the fact that we, the players, got special permission to miss classes when on away games, or could rock up late after practice with no repercussions.
Climbing the steps slowly, I avoided Shelly’s laser-beam attention until it was no longer an option. I slipped into my usual seat beside her, her snake arm sliding over my thigh as soon as my ass hit the wooden seat. Ally, my cousin, who I normally sat next to in class, couldn’t make it today, leaving me all alone with Shelly.
Perfect.
“Hey, Rome,” she said, all breathy, trying her best to be seductive. Shelly, to most of the male student body, was hot, but I knew the girl underneath, the one with all the personality of a gnat.
“Shel,” I answered flatly, not reacting to any of her strokes and caresses. My jaw ached from clenching it in annoyance.
A huge bang sounded, drawing my attention, and the door to the classroom suddenly burst open. Molly fell through, still doing a shit job of balancing all her papers. The whole class zeroed in on her awkwardness.
Straightening up and blowing her crazy hair from her eyes, she pushed her thick glasses back on her nose, flushed bright red, and began sidestepping toward the professor, her back almost pressed flat against the wall as she grimaced in embarrassment. She looked so goddamn cute all flustered, shuffling across the length of the whiteboard.
I snickered involuntarily, feeling my heart speed up again as she put down her papers and stood beside the professor, fidgeting on the spot.
“What’s with this girl?” Shelly snarled under her breath, nudging her best friend Tanya beside her. I stiffened, feeling my blood rush through my ears. Shelly turned to me. “And did you just laugh?” Her mouth gaped open. I shrugged without answering.
“Didn’t think anyone dressed like that once outta kindergarten,” Tanya bitched.
Shelly leaned in closer to me, the smell of her strong perfume almost making me gag. She had me in her trap, but there was no point in throwing her off. She had my folks on her side, and if I wanted to get through this year without too much of their shit, I needed to stay way under their radar and not do anything to rock the boat… then crush the selfish f**kers when I got my draft ticket out of here and squashed all their fascist, money-grabbing plans.
The professor asked Molly to introduce herself. I watched, fascinated, as the clumsy, geeky girl transformed as she spoke: back straighter, chin higher, eyes brighter and brimming with confidence.
I sat back and listened intently to every word she said.
She was smart, really f**king smart, and this class’ new teaching assistant. Young, English, and already on her master’s, with a goal of becoming a professor in philosophy. And to top it all off, she was in Bama to help the professor write an academic paper. Shit. She put all the undecided f**kers I knew to shame.
“So, Rome, are you coming tonight—” Shelly tried to speak to me, not listening to the introduction taking place, but I shushed her. I needed to hear Molly. For some reason, I wanted to hear her speak again, wanted to know her deal.
That didn’t stop Shelly, though, and her hand skimmed over my stomach, her lips closing in on my ear. “I said are you coming tonight?! I—”
Whipping toward her, my face pulled into a hard expression, and I spat out quietly, “And I said shut the f**k up! I won’t tell you again.” Her beady blue eyes narrowed. She glared at Molly, then back to me, repeating the friggin’ routine a few more times, and I saw the moment she realized the newbie Brit had caught my attention.
Molly was still speaking. I shifted my focus back to her and ignored Shelly’s fury building beside me.
“I have loved religious philosophy for as long as I can remember, and I’m happy to be here to help Professor Ross in the lectures and seminars and to try and make the wonderful world of philosophy just that little bit more interesting!”
Shelly’s long nails began to dig into the arm of her chair as Molly spoke easily to the class. Her top lip curled and I just knew she was about to go into full-on bitch mode.
“I’ll be happy to answer any questions about—”
“I have one,” Shelly snapped, interrupting Molly’s speech. The whole class glanced toward her as she smiled an ugly, smug smile. I watched as Molly’s eyes searched the crowd and widened slightly when they landed on Shelly… and the placement of her hand near my crotch.
Jesus.
“Don’t,” I warned for Shelly’s ears only, removing her hand, but she ignored me.
“Why the hell would you want to be a professor in philosophy? Don’t you think it’s a bit of a waste of your life?”