Brooks opens the door for me, and I’m met with only two available seats, one in the front row and one about halfway back. I typically don’t give a crap where I sit; but considering my appearance today, and our professor’s tendency to call on students in the front row, I absolutely care today. “Go ahead and take the seat in the back, Vivian,” Brooks whispers, handing me my backpack. “I’ll take my turn in the hot seat.” He winks and nudges me to the back of the row and then slides into his seat. I wiggle through the sea of chairs and dodge the awkward glances. I can read their minds, ‘What is this mess doing with that package of male perfection?’ Class today is turning into a major self-esteem booster.

Dr. Vauldin glides into the room, throws his brief case on the lectern, and scans the room, no doubt searching for his victims of the day. His class is the most wretched thing to have to sit through–boring as hell and it is a struggle to stay awake. So, he punishes us all by randomly calling on students to answer questions. There’s no such thing as a raised hand in this room; everyone is eligible to be his prey.

“Alright, guys, we won’t be here the entire fifty minutes today,” Vauldin announces in a low monotone voice. Hushed “thank fucks” and “yeses” reverberate through the room. I remain still and silent, not wanting to attract attention to myself. I remember Jurassic Park; T-Rex couldn’t see you if you didn’t move, and I’m hoping this dinosaur falls into the same classification as old Rex.

“You there, in the Bronco sweatshirt,” he says, pointing in my direction. I point to myself and he nods, “Yeah, you, please come pass these assignment sheets out.” Nope, not T-Rex, he must be one of those damn Velociraptors.

Like the sacrifice of the Lottery Rose, I sluggishly begin to move out of my chair. Here I thought I was going to just hide myself this morning and could get ready for the day during my break between classes; now I’m being called to the front of the class to my own social suicide.

“Sir, I can pass them out,” Brooks shouts, bouncing out of his seat. He snatches the papers from Vauldin and begins passing them out before our professor can respond. Vauldin shrugs and continues on with his explanation of the assignment. I sink back into my chair, feeling something that I never thought I would for Brooks Ryan–grateful.

Professor Vauldin quickly clarifies the requirements for our task, and we are released. Everyone files out, but I wait until they are all gone to leave. I don’t consider myself a vain person, but my mother taught me well enough to know how to be presentable in public, and I am not anywhere close to those standards. Brooks is waiting for me in the hallway, and I relax at the sight of him.

“Thank you for doing that in there; I really do appreciate it,” I tell him, setting my bag down and adjusting my ponytail holder.

“It was no big deal, really. It’s been a rough morning for you, and I said I was taking my turn in the hot seat. I’m pretty sure that includes passing out papers.” He bends down and takes my bag like before. It’s a small gesture, but it pulls at my heart a little. I can’t picture Brooks even holding the bathroom door open for Sondra Slut McFunbags, but here he is carrying my backpack all over campus.

“Well, anyway, thank you. Right now I just want to go back and take a long hot shower, and wash this morning off of me.” We step outside and begin the fifteen-minute walk back. I’m half-tempted to run again, just so that as few people as possible will see me in the condition I’m in, but the memory of rib ninjas is too fresh.

“So, who are you going to write about for the paper?” Brooks asks about five minutes into the walk. The prompt is to write about someone that has impacted our lives so drastically that we are different people because of them, or the things they’ve done. I get that the assignment is meant to be a self-reflection on the type of people we have become and why–hell if I don’t want to do it though. My father’s death and how my mother has handled it all of these years, I know has been the root of a lot of my issues. I’m not so blind as to not see that. However, that doesn’t mean that I’m excited to tell the raptor all about it in a stupid three-page paper.

“I don’t know; I guess I’ll have to think about it a little bit,” I shrug.

Brooks is silent for a moment, staring at the ground as we walk. The arrogant shell that he’s usually encapsulated in seems cracked, if even for a moment. “Yeah, me too,” he says, still examining the sidewalk. He’s lying. He has issues, too and probably because of the same people in his life.

“Fuck,” he sighs under his breath, just loud enough that I hear. When he finally looks up, his pace slows for a second, and then he starts walking at warp speed. I have to almost run to keep up. I follow his gaze to a girl walking towards us. I figure it would be safe to assume it’s another previous conquest. Her perfectly coordinated outfit, heels clicking against the cement, and her gorgeous flat-ironed blonde hair scream money. She notices us approaching and she straightens her back, flashing us a fake smile that would give Miss America a run for her money.

She blocks our path, demanding that we stop. Now that I’m close enough, I see the icebergs in her ears that I guarantee are not Target knockoffs, and the white gold ‘S’ necklace around her neck confirms that she’s wealthy. The necklace also tells me that she’s in the Sigma Sorority. Jen had the opportunity to rush the sorority because she is a legacy; her mother was a Sigma. She refused to join though; she said they are rich and mean.

“Brooks, it’s been a few weeks; where have you been hiding?” she asks, not bothering to even acknowledge my presence. I’m common folk in yoga pants, not worthy of her time. Jen was right, rich bitches.

“Around.” His tone is clipped and uninterested. He refuses to give her the attention that she is seeking, and I am more than thankful. “Um, Amber, this is my friend Vivian. Vivian, this is Amber Jennings. Our fathers know each other from business transactions.”

I try to remember my manners and hold out my hand to shake hers, but she gives me the once over like I might give her some kind of contagious infection and rolls her eyes. “Anyway, we need to get together again sometime; we have some unfinished business to attend to,” she says, directing her attention back to Brooks, leaving me with my arm outstretched. I snap it back to my side in an attempt to save at least a little dignity.

“Yeah, well, we are late for our next class. See you around.” Brooks puts his arm around me and pushes past her. Her expression is a mixture of horror and disgust, and I absolutely take it personally.

“I’m sorry she was like that to you,” Brooks says, dropping his arm from my shoulder when we are a safe distance from Amber, the sorority twat-waffle.

“What do you mean? She was a delight,” I sarcastically retort. He laughs, but then regains a serious posture.

“No, really, she’s a bitch. I only know her because of my stepdad. We kissed once and she thinks that it means we’re going to have a relationship. I’m sure her father would love that; it would be a business merger of sorts. But I have no interest in her, and my family already knows I have no intention of taking over the business.”

“So what do you want to do then? Aren’t your parents disappointed about that?” I ask the question, but immediately regret it; it’s personal and intrusive. I never appreciate personal questions like that, and I feel like Brooks is similar in that regard. “I’m sorry; you don’t have to answer that. I’m being a little nosy.”

Brooks abruptly stops and I look around, preparing myself for another brat pack bombardment. When I see no one near us, I look at him, waiting for an explanation. “Vivian, I understand that you don’t know me very well, and I don’t know a lot about you, but I hope to change that. No, I don’t share a lot with many people, but you’re not just anyone to me. Never apologize for asking me something, okay?”