I wasn’t so great with words, so I wasn’t looking forward to dissecting Shakespeare. Now, if it had been Will’s actual body I was dissecting…
Grumpy mood in full effect, I took a seat on the aisle in the third row of the lecture hall. This was my biggest class of the day, but it was nowhere near the giant auditorium-style classes I’d heard about from my friends who went to larger schools. Each row held two long tables with eight chairs spread apart from each other. There were five rows, and empty seats were quickly being filled. The spot beside me was taken by a massive guy with thick, dark hair falling in his face. He didn’t say a word to me or seem interested in speaking to me, so I was fine with him being there.
A shift in the air brought my head up from my phone. Theo rushed into the room just as the professor was shutting the door and took the first empty seat in the front row, not noticing me.
Wonderful. Perfection. Stupendous.
I’d definitely broken his car two nights ago. That hadn’t been my finest moment, but he probably deserved it, seeing as he was friends with Deacon and his girlfriend had been evil to Zadie. I was surprised the cops hadn’t shown up at my door yet. Then again, Theo probably didn’t know my full name, or that I was a student here.
I could only hope I’d fly under the radar in this class—and Theo would forget I’d bashed the shit out of his ride. I definitely didn’t have the money to repair his car or the time to spend locked up for a crime I absolutely did commit.
The class went by quickly, and Professor Davis was mildly interesting, which was more than I’d been expecting. He went over the plays we’d be talking about and had us write out ten facts we knew about Shakespeare and his writing. I was really reaching by the time I got to eight, so I threw in some Leonardo DiCaprio references. Everyone knew his version of Romeo and Juliet was superior to all the rest, even though that story was utter bullshit.
Then he went over the syllabus and the breakdown of his grading system. That was when I began to panic. Not that the workload was too much, but because twenty-five percent of our grade would be coming from watching a modern interpretive performance of Taming of the Shrew on a night I’d be working.
I raised my hand. Professor Davis nodded to me.
“Excuse me, sir, but is there another time we can watch the play?”
He propped his butt on his desk and crossed his legs at the ankle, then he slanted his head. “Is that inconvenient for you?” I didn’t know if I was imagining it, but he sounded amused.
“Actually, yes. I have to work that night.”
He brought his hand up to his chin, stroking it in a way I figured was supposed to be thoughtful. “I don’t know what to tell you. You’ll have to take the night off. In this class, going to that play is a requirement. If you can’t do that, I suggest you drop the class.”
I swallowed. “There’s no other time for the play? I work every night and I—”
His laugh boomed out of him. “Every night? I find that hard to believe. What’s your name?”
“Helen Ortega, sir. And yes, I work every night. I’d have to ask for the night off to go to the play, and honestly, I can’t afford it, but—”
He snapped his fingers. “There. You said ‘but,’ Ms. Ortega, which means you can ask for the night off, but you’re unwilling to. So, I’m sticking to my original statement. Drop the class if you can’t commit to the work.”
An arm shot up in the front row. Professor Davis pointed to the student.
“Professor Davis, are you certain there aren’t any exceptions?”
I knew that voice. That deep, low, lovely voice.
“Name?” the professor snapped.
“Theo Whitlock.”
Professor Davis straightened, his eyes narrowing on Theo. “Do you have a conflict the evening of the play too, Theo?”
“I don’t. However, it doesn’t seem fair or at all ethical to pressure a student to drop a class because you choose to have a requirement on the syllabus to see a play that’s only playing one night. To me, that speaks of poor planning on your part, and you shouldn’t put the onus on your student. That’s just my opinion, but I can’t be the only one thinking it.”
The huge guy next to me nodded along with Theo. A few other people in front of me did too. Professor Davis’s face had flushed, and his arms were crossed in defiance.
“I hear your point, Mr. Whitlock.” Jaw hardened, he focused on me again. “There’s another showing in L.A. in two weeks. It’s a matinee. I will add that information to the class portal so everyone can have it.”
L.A. was an hour away. I didn’t have a car. Still, I’d make it happen. If the professor hadn’t been an asshole, I would have dropped the class. But now that he’d challenged me, no way was I backing down.
I gave him a jerk of my chin, averting my gaze to my laptop.
The guy beside me leaned over slightly but didn’t turn his head. “What’s fair is fair,” he rumbled lowly.
“Um, true. Thanks.”
He returned to his space like he’d never said a word. And that was fine. I was already thrown enough from Theo coming to my defense, I didn’t know what to do with anything else.
The class went on for another ten minutes, and Professor Davis’s face stayed flushed the entire time. I would have laughed if I didn’t need this class. I was obviously on the professor’s shitlist on my very first day—a place I did not want to be.
Naturally, when class ended, Theo was waiting at the door for me. I stalked past him without a word, and he followed me outside. I started to put my skateboard down on the sidewalk, but Theo snatched it out of my hands, tucking it firmly under his arm.
I rounded on him. “No.”
He raised a brow. “Helen Ortega, huh?”
“Yes, Theodore. That’s my name. Give me my skateboard back.”
He chuckled under his breath. “I’m beginning to think it’s cute when you call me that. Like a pet name.”
“It’s important to have dreams.” I hitched my backpack higher on my shoulders. “You know what? Keep my skateboard. I don’t need it.”
I walked away, but Theo easily kept up, like he was out for a Sunday stroll. Long-legged asshole.
“I’m gaining a collection of your boards, Helen.”
“It’s interesting you want to keep mementos of our time together, Theodore.”
He grabbed my arm and dragged me to the side of a building, boxing me in against the warm brick wall and dropping my board to brace his hands on either side of my head.
“Stop for two seconds,” he gritted out.
“Why? I don’t even know you.”
“You fucked my car up like you know me.”
“That was a mistake, but again, the company you keep.”
His jaw tightened, and the muscles around his mouth pinched. “You don’t know shit about me. You’ve made yourself judge and jury.”
“I don’t want to know anything about you.”
He lowered his face a fraction. “Oh yeah? Is that why I can see the pulse in your neck fluttering?”
Raising my chin, I locked on his gaze. “Maybe I’m scared of you. Maybe it doesn’t feel good to be cornered by a man who’s a lot bigger than me, and basically a stranger.”