Page 115 of Necessary Roughness
I’d finished all of my Art History assignments, and was confident that I would get an A. The final exam was mostly a formality. That made things feel evenmorecomplete with Knox, like there was nothing left to connect us.
I was actually looking forward to Monday morning. It was the last week before finals, and I desperately needed to lose myself in my studies. That was the real reason I was here. Heck, it was the reason I’d agreed to the insane sex-deal with Knox and Logan in the first place: to help me focus on my classes. That felt like such a long time ago. So much had changed in four short months.
And yet here I was, back where I started. Ignoring Morgan’s annoyed stare as I left my apartment and walked to campus.
It was almost as if my affair with the football players had never even happened.
Yet as I walked to class, I realized that wasn’t true. I passed a cluster of sorority girls who saw me and began whispering in hushed tones. Two guys sitting on a bench stopped their conversation to glare at me. Less than a minute later, a circle of freshmen playing hacky sack all stopped to stare at me. I heard the phrase, “their girlfriend,” and, “the one from the party,” and one of them tactlessly pointed at me.
I couldn’t forget about my affair with the guys becauseeveryone on campus knew about it.
It was a relief to reach class and take my seat. But as I took out my notebook and pen, I noticed the girl sitting next to me staring like I was an animal at the zoo.
“Is it true?” she whispered when I finally glanced over at her. “You’re sleeping with theentirefootball team?”
“Fuck off,” I hissed at her.
The professor began the lecture, a review of the semester’s material and which parts would be excluded from the final exam next week. Five minutes into the lecture, a male student to my left reached over and tapped my arm. He was trying to hand me a folded up piece of paper. I shouldn’t have taken it, but he had whatseemedlike a sympathetic smile.
I quietly opened it in my lap so the professor wouldn’t see.
YOU RUINED OUR PERFECT SEASON. FUCK YOU.
Growling to myself, I tossed the paper back at the kid, who had to cover his mouth from laughing so hard.
“Ms. Collins!” the professor snapped. “You’re free to distract whoever you want outside of my classroom, but during my lecture I expect your full attention.”
I mumbled an apology. Was her comment about being a distraction a reference to Knox, Logan, and Roman? Realizing that both the studentsandthe faculty hated me made me feel even more alone than before.
And the worst part about it all? I still had the spring semester to look forward to, and then another full year. I couldn’t help but wonder how long people’s memory would last.
In the meantime, I felt like the lowest person on campus.
50
Sloane
The rest of the week passed without me getting harassed via mean names or notes passed in class, but the dirty glares and awkward stares still followed me everywhere I went. I had become something of a campus celebrity. The downside to going to a smaller school.
Neither Knox nor Logan were in class that week. I assumed it was because they already had the final exam review notes, and because they were spending this week preparing for the conference championship on Saturday. Part of me was disappointed I didn’t get to see them… but mostly I felt relieved. I had no idea what I would say if I saw them, or what they might say tome. Not to mention any interaction we had in class would likely be recorded by half a dozen cell phones and reposted all over the internet, extending my stint as Westview’s Most Hated Student.
“You have to go!” Bryson told me on Saturday. “It’s the conference championship. It’s the biggest thing to happen to this school in… well, maybe in forever.”
“Nobody’s going to care about you,” Jayden added. “And if you’re really concerned, you can wear one of my baseball caps.”
“You don’t wear baseball caps,” I pointed out.
“No, but I’ll steal one from my twin for you to wear.”
“Or she can get one directly from me,” Bryson said dryly.
Aside from class, I’d spent all week hunkering down in my apartment to avoid as much human interaction as possible. I was beginning to get cabin fever. Not to mention Morgan was getting on my nerves.
“I’ll wear a hat,” I told Bryson.
A few hours before the game, I worked up the courage to send a group text to the guys. I felt like I had to saysomething.Today was too important not to. And maybe it would lead to a longer conversation with them after a week of radio silence.
Me:Good luck today. You guys are going to kick their asses.
