“You little shit.” She leans across the table and makes a vain attempt to twist my nipple. Settling back into her seat, she delicately adjusts her septum piercing. “I look distinguished.”
More snorts and laughs take up the table. I hide mine behind a fist, letting my shoulders shake. The impulse to belly laugh used to press against my ribs when I finally started finding things funny again, but it’s another part of life I’ve learned to accept is best left silent now.
Suddenly the laughter dies off when Aiden says, “Dammit.”
Freya’s head turns in the direction Aiden’s looking, as does Ren’s. Willa Sutter walks in the door, but I have no idea what they’re saying about her. In a rare moment, they forget either to make sure I could read their lips or to use their phones.
I clap my hands twice, earning their attention and three different facial expressions of guilt.
“Sorry, Ry,” Ren says.
Aiden waves his hand so I’ll look his way and read his lips. “Sutter’s here. It’s not going to look good.”
Freya pats my hand. “Who? Why?”
I throw up my hands, then point to Aiden. Look at him. I watched one of their exchanges in class, and while I missed most of what was said, I saw his features tighten, the severity of his delivery toward her. Aiden looked like he was being harsh, and I kind of felt bad for Willa…until she gave me devil eyes and decided she hated me. Then I figured Aiden could be as big a dick to her as he wanted. She was on her own after that.
Aiden sighs and picks up his phone, so all of us return to group chat.
Willa Sutter is her name, a student of mine. I might have been a bit hard on her, Aiden types. But entitled D-1 athletes are my Achilles heel. I figured I’d make it up to her by telling her to ask Ry for notes.
How would she ask him? Ren writes. Does she know he can’t hear her?
Aiden lowers his eyes. Guilty.
A rare huff of anger leaves my chest. I bang the table, pointing a finger in his face. You asshole.
That must be why she hates me, I type. She probably asked me for notes and I didn’t hear her, then she thought I was being some dick, ignoring her. Now she’s going to see us together and think we’re best friends who are out to ruin her GPA.
Slow down, Freya types. Why would she think you’re best friends?
Because Aiden gives me the notes for lecture so I can follow. My thumbs fly, anger building as I realize what a mess he got us into. He talks with his back to the board half the time, and the lecture notes on the projector aren’t comprehensive. He’s not doing me favors, of course—he’s legally required to make the course accessible—but she doesn’t know that.
Ren types, So this chick thinks he’s doing you a favor and screwing her since you won’t share.
I nod again, throwing down my phone.
Ren gives Aiden a disbelieving look. “You’re still not over this campaign?”
Aiden scowls into his beer and doesn’t say anything.
Aiden doesn’t want to see me treated differently for my hearing loss, and he’s pissed I gave up talking. I know he loves me and he means well, but he’s just too damn pushy on this point. He’s determined to wear me down with people who are ignorant of my hearing loss and thus pester me for conversation, as if I can still hear, until I wear the horrible hearing aids and start talking back again.
Not going to happen.
I’d like to remind the committee, I type, that this is not the first time Aiden’s stuck a woman on me and conveniently forgotten to tell her I can’t hear for shit.
Freya spins and slaps Aiden upside the head. “I told you to stop that.”
“I did it one other time!” he pleads.
“He doesn’t need a yenta,” Freya growls. “Look at him. He’ll get laid the moment he wants to.”
All three of us men shudder for various reasons. I don’t want my sister talking about me getting laid, Ren doesn’t want to hear about his brother getting laid, and Aiden definitely doesn’t want to hear his wife acknowledging her brother’s sex appeal.
Before I can say anything further on the matter, my peripheral vision, which I’ve relied on more than ever in the past few years, changes, making me turn to the right.
Willa stands a few feet away, a disbelieving look tightening her face. “Professor MacCormack?” her lips say.
God, her lips. They look bee-stung, impossibly soft. I hate that to understand her, I have to stare at that full mouth, especially now that I know she doesn’t hate my guts for no good reason, which would make hating her back so much easier. She hates my guts because she thinks I was being a prick and ignoring her.
Much, much harder to hate now.
“Willa, hey!” Aiden half-stands, but Freya’s pinning him inside the booth and giving him a death glare. Slowly, he sinks back into his seat.
Willa’s gaze dances between us. “Wow.”
“Willa, this isn’t quite what it looks like,” Aiden says. “I know I gave you a hard time about the notes, and I understand why you’re confused as to why Ryder gets them, when I didn’t give them to you, but the thing is—”
Her hand flies up. “I’ll pass on the excuse. You’ve made it clear that while this guy has earned special treatment, I need to fend for myself.”
A leggy blonde stands behind Willa, her brow pinched in disapproval. “You’re a disgraceful piece of shit,” she says, eyes on Aiden. Her mouth starts flying, so I can’t follow her anymore. Ren’s aware of this, and pulls out his phone, transcribing what she says for me in our private text.
“You don’t think female athletes have a hard enough time? Every professor of ours provides what we need rather than making us beg. I was under the impression it’s not that hard to be a decent human being, but here you are, proving me wrong. Fuck you and good night.”
Before either of us can even begin to explain, the tall blonde yanks Willa by the arm and turns them right around, then out the door.
Ren drops his phone, genuinely impressed, and claps as they go. “Damn.”
Aiden rubs his face. I can’t see his mouth, but I’d bet my right foot he’s saying shit on repeat under his breath.
Freya takes his beer and finishes it, then wipes a hand across her mouth. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: men are idiots. Remind me, why’d I marry you?”
Aiden drops his head to the table but manages to type his answer in group chat. Good question.
My leg bounces with nerves as class starts. It’s almost comical at this point, but the only seat I can see that’s vacant is next to me, again. Aiden’s yammering on about some formula I already got the hang of when I prepped for class last night, as Willa comes bounding down the ramp, bookbag jostling almost as much as her wild hair that can’t seem to make up its mind between waves or curls.
She wears sweats that completely drown her body, and she looks winded, which means she must have been sprinting the whole way here, given she’s obviously in incredible shape. Slowly, she comes to a stop at the vacant seat next to me, while Aiden lectures and pointedly ignores her late arrival.
Her eyes meet mine, fueled with loathing. Those amber irises once again turn an angry copper. If she could erupt in flames, she would.