Page 19 of Necessary Roughness
“So… look at him! I wish we could studyhimthis semester.”
Their comments made me feel like the biggest idiot on campus. Everyone knew Knox on sight, yet somehow I’d remained totally oblivious for the past three years.
I tried to slink down in my chair to appear invisible, but there were only two open seats, and one of them was next to me. Knox weaved through the space between desks, muttering an apology as he squeezed past another student.
I kept my eyes on my laptop. His lower half came into view, and he suddenly did a double-take. When I glanced up, he was staring down at me in shock.
So much for not being noticed.
“Welcome to Art History 202,” the professor said as he strode into the classroom. “Take your seats and we’ll begin. We have a lot to go over today.”
I could feel Knox’s eyes on me as class began, but I had no interest in glancing over at him. I was already drowning in embarrassment, my entire body cringing with the memory of what had happened the other night.
Just ignore him,I told myself.He’s the most popular guy in school. Since we didn’t hook up, he probably doesn’t care about me at all.
But as the professor launched into his lecture, Knox kept turning to stare at me. Once, when the professor’s back was turned, Knox tried to whisper to me. I kept my eyes straight ahead, focused on whatactuallymattered. If I ignored him, it would all go away.
“Hey,” the girl behind me tapped my shoulder. “He’s trying to get your attention.”
Finally, I looked over. Knox was smiling hopefully, then began mouthing something silently.
No. This was too much. I didn’t want to relive all the horrific embarrassment from last week—I just wanted to take notes on Art History! It felt like the walls were closing in, trapping me in a situation that I desperately wanted to forget.
Eventually, it was too much. I shoved my laptop in my bag, gave the professor an apologetic little wave, and hurried out of the classroom. “I guess she doesn’t like the Italian Impressionism Period,” was the last thing I heard the professor say to the class, which drew a few laughs.
As if things couldn’t get any worse.
It was stupid to leave on the first day, but I didn’t turn around. I would fix this later by visiting the professor’s office hours and making some excuse. Hopefully he would take pity on me and give me the notes from class.
What a bad start to the semester. I was trying toavoiddrama with guys. This was, quite literally, the exact opposite of what I had hoped to accomplish by blowing off steam at the party.
“Hey, Sloane!” Knox called behind me. “Wait up!”
Oh my God. Why was he following me? I pretended like I couldn’t hear him and quickened my step.
Knox was taller than me, and his long legs caught up to me within seconds. He fell in beside me and said, “Hey! Why’d you leave class?”
“Because you were distracting me,” I said.
“Shit. Sorry. Can we talk real quick?”
“I don’t want to talk,” I replied without slowing. “I just want to forget that night ever happened.”
He kept walking with me. I glanced over at him in annoyance. Couldn’t he see howembarrassedI was?
Knox jogged ahead, then turned around and walked backwards in front of me. “Just hear me out. I’ll make it quick.”
“I don’t want a recap of that night,” I insisted. “I know I made a fool of myself. And now I’m missing the first day of class, but obviously I can’t go back now.”
“I can fix that!” He swung his backpack around, then pulled out a stapled stack of papers. “I have the notes from class.”
I stopped in my tracks. “How? You left right after I did.”
Knox smiled. The same damn smile he’d worn that night at the party, the one prominently displayed on the jumbotron at the football game. “Professor McMillan emailed me the notes. They do that for all the student athletes in case they miss class because of practice. Everything you missed is right here.” He shook the papers in the air.
“Thanks,” I said, reaching for them.
He pulled them away, holding them out of reach. “I’ll give you the notes, in exchange for five minutes of your time.”
