Page 7 of Brat Baby
My entire focus funnels in on Derek, sounds fading away like in the movies just before a character faints. I can barely breathe. My heart is in my stomach and a wave of nausea slams into me like a tsunami. It’s taking all my strength to stay seated and not run down the stairs and throw myself at him.
He doesn’t look up at the students; instead, he strides over to the table that sits to the side of the podium and removes his laptop from his leather messenger bag. Those hands that spent the better part of the weekend roaming my body, bringing me the most intense pleasure I have ever felt, open the laptop and place it on the podium.
The entire time, he hasn’t looked our way. The other guy, who has taken a room-facing seat at the table, says something to him, and he nods with a small smile as he plugs a cable into the side of his laptop.
How can he stand up there with a smile on his face? Is his heart not tearing apart in his chest the way mine is? Doesn’t he feel hollow as fuck, like every good thing in the world has been ripped away from him?
I didn’t notice before, but his gray suit and pink button-down suits him. Especially with how he has the top two buttons undone. Not a single leather elbow patch in sight.
Color flashes up on the walls behind him, and I’m startled out of my hyperfocus by his presentation appearing. Blinking several times, the rest of the room comes back into focus. Quiet coughs, the tapping of computer keys, and then the clearing of Derek’s throat.
He looks up at the students with a smile, eyes sweeping along the upper rows. “Welcome to Calculus 101. I am Professor Derek King. You may call me Professor King or Professor. This class is a rapid reintroduction and extension of differential and integrated calculus. We will go over everything you learned in high school over the first three weeks and then move on to new content. We will have two, two-hour lectures together each week, and you can attend as many hours of tutorial workshops with my TA, Justin Vanders, as you like. I recommend a minimum of two hours per week. More, if you are struggling with the content. There is no shame in asking for help. The pace is quick and the content challenging.”
My limbs are tingling and my head is swimming. Four hours a week? Four hours of him standing right in front of me, but I can’t touch him? On autopilot, I open my bag and drag out the notebook I brought with me to take notes, as well as blue and red pens.
The girl next to me makes a noise, and I turn my head in her direction. She’s staring at my notebook, and I glance at hers but find a laptop. A quick scan of the students around us lets me know that it wasn’t only my wardrobe that needed an upgrade.
Everyone has a laptop.
Everyone but me.
Fuck.
So much for blending in.
Tears burn the backs of my eyes as I try to focus on opening the notebook to the first page and writing the date at the top right. With that task done, I look back at the podium, only to find Derek staring at me with fire in his eyes.
I shrink back in my seat, stomach clenching so violently that I’m glad I opted not to drink my coffee this morning. His glare pins me to my seat, and I’m sure if he had some sort of superpower, he would use it to make me disappear.
Then he blinks and looks away before tapping on his keyboard and beginning his lecture like I don’t exist. The entire lecture continues that way. Him teaching everyone else, even cracking little jokes, all while ignoring me.
My throat aches as I start jotting down the important dates that he talks about and the weight of each exam. But I barely listen. Sure, I hear the words, and I transcribe them onto the page in front of me.
But the only sound I’m truly listening to is the shattering of my hope on the carpeted floor between us.
Chapter 4
Emery
Derek doesn’t wait around at the end of the class. Before I’ve finished writing my last notes, he’s out the door, leaving his TA, Justin, alone to deal with the students who swarm down on him. Justin’s confused stare as he watches Derek leave confirms that this is not normal behavior for him, which means he isn’t as unaffected as he wants me to believe.
I stretch out the cramp in my hand. Fuck, I haven’t had to write that much in months, and I’m completely out of practice. As soon as my first SugarLife transfer clears my bank account, I’m purchasing a laptop, even if I have to miss a class to do it. I’ll find a way to catch up. No way in hell am I going a minute longer than I have to without one.
But even if I’d had a laptop to use, the pace was quick. No pauses between slides, minimal time for questions. Which has me nervous about the pace of the rest of my classes. Sure, high school had been fairly simple, especially when I kept ahead of the reading. But this feels like it’s on a whole other level.
Not to mention the added pressure of being so close to Derek, who can make my brain switch off with just the tone of his voice.
The last two hours were like some sort of cruel punishment, but I’m unclear on why I’m being punished. And it really didn’t have anything to do with seeing him. It was the fact that he did everything tonotsee me, to ignore me. After that initial eye contact, he didn’t look at me a single time.
I think I would have preferred if he’d glared at me with the same anger from this morning.
I snatch up my phone and see I have messages from Oakley, but I swipe past those and open the NU student app to find my schedule.
Wednesday. I have to go through all this again on Wednesday.
One thing the last two hours have accomplished is to turn me numb. With every minute he ignored me, the colder I grew. My insides feel empty. Cold and empty. There is a huge nothingness where my lungs belong.
When the room is almost empty, I gather all my things and pass the few students still trying to get a few minutes of Justin’s time. Before I make it to the door, it opens and the flow of students for the next class begins. I have to wait for a break andthen dart through the door, my legs feeling awkward beneath me.
