Page 8 of Defend Me
Most of his other posts were of sunsets and weird shit he saw on campus that was confusing, like a pregnancy test on one of the courtyard benches. It looked like he wandered around all the time. There were a few of him lying on the hood of his car in different places.
More interesting than anyone Kai sent me, although I didn’t know where this guy stood on the sexuality spectrum. It didn’t really matter. I needed versatile friends and he looked fun in a ‘spends most of his time alone’ kind of way.
Maybe Dean would introduce me. Since I didn’t have his number, I private messaged him.
Brooks:I’m stuck in an Uber with your ex. Talk about awkward.
I sent him a picture of myself looking terrified in the back seat.
Brooks:You smoke? I’m in desperate need of company.
He read the message but didn’t reply. That was rude.
Maybe Kai had a point. I was meddling and poking at things I shouldn’t. My mom always said that I was a busy body. My dad countered that by saying I was subtly rebellious. That might’ve been more accurate. The guy obviously wanted me to leave him alone, which was a smart move and not difficult since I didn’t know a single thing about him. Except that he had a spectacular scowl.
So, of course, I sent him another picture of me hitting my penjamin and holding up a peace sign. Sadie gasped when she saw the faint smoke, but she must’ve been smart enough not to start something after the stunts she’d pulled for months. Being in the vicinity of a dab pen wouldn’t be the death of her.
Chapter 4
Tilian
Football wasn’t really my thing. Sports in general weren’t, actually, much to the dismay of my father. He was a bit of a pious fucker who was all about outdated tenets of masculinity, although he’d gotten better over the years.
Contrarily, I was a rebellious little shit who ran in the opposite direction of everything he stood for.
He said I should join a team in middle school. I joined team stoner. He asked when I was going to find a girlfriend. I brought a boyfriend home. He handed me a nice suit to wear at his wedding when I was sixteen. I fucked my future stepbrother at the reception.
Yeah, that wasn’t my best moment.
I wasn’t sure why I ended up this way and I was past questioning it. Objectively, I was pretty smart and could get along with people well enough, even though I was a little awkward. I just liked to do my own thing and if someone told me to do something, I had a tendency to choose opposition. I’d probably be yelling ‘anarchy’ while I did it.
Maybe that was why I’d taken to smoking in the stands while the football team practiced. Some of them seemed to think it was funny and the coach just didn’t give enough fucks to bitch about it.
Leaning forward, I picked up my pen and started taking notes. It was kind of a pain with my joint in one hand, but I managed. What was I going to do? Put it down? No. It legitimately helped my anxiety- not like a bunch of other people claimed. Any prescription doctors had tried to put me on only made things worse. And hell, I was twenty-one in Washington, so it was legal, even if it wasn’t technically allowed on campus.
Movement below drew my attention away from my notes. There were two guys sitting a few rows from the bottom, laughing like old pals. Two more joined them from the field, looking behind them a few times as if they expected to get yelled at.
It was easy to recognize one of the quarterbacks. He was super tall with crazy blue eyes and dark hair. The other player came up to a blonde guy who I remembered from a party last quarter. His boyfriend had turned into a rabid dog because I’d hit on him.
The last one was vaguely familiar. Were we in the same class? It was possible, but it was only the third day of the semester. That one was on Tuesday and Thursday, so I’d only been once, plus I didn’t pay attention to lectures or the other students. I could pass a test with flying colors and it wasn’t due to the professor’s teaching skills. I read the material on my own and studied in a way that worked for me. All the lectures in the world couldn’t make me retain the information and that was if I even managed to stay focused on them.
Spoiler alert: I couldn’t.
I distinctly remembered discussing learning styles in high school. Apparently, higher education didn’t care. If in-class participation didn’t count as part of my grade, I’d fuck right off and stay in my dorm.
I continued to watch the guy that I thought was in my class. He had his dark hair in a large bun, but a few strands stuck out enough to show how curly it was. The dark olive skin on the back of his neck peeked out the top of his hoodie where some shorter curls had escaped the rest.
When he suddenly turned to look behind him, I dropped my gaze to my textbook. The last thing I wanted was to be perceived in any way. I didn’t exist. Look away. Pay attention to the hot football players, not me.
“Sharing is caring, you know.”
Ah, beans.
He was only a couple of steps below me now and there was a smile on his face. It was hard to tell if it was kind or mischievous. Maybe both.
Now that I could see his face better, I was seventy-five percent sure he sat next to me in Professor Pritchard’s class. The only reason I thought that was because he was someone who raised his hand immediately when a question was asked. Seriously, who volunteered for that? The only sane thing to do was avoid the professor’s eyes and pray to god that he called on somebody else.
His psychopathic ways were a direct contradiction to his face. He had brown eyes, but they were far from bland. They were like dark chocolate. Was it weird to think about licking someone’s eyeballs? Definitely. It was probably because I hadn’t eaten today.
