I can tell that I'm supposed to insist otherwise, or spill. Instead, I sound like I’m in a rush and say, “Okay, bye, love you, Mom,” and as soon as she tells me that she loves me too, I hang right up.
I look back over the writing assignment and I try not to feel too put off by the prompt.
‘In class today, why did you write something personal? If you didn’t write something you consider personal, explain why it is.’
The mental jujitsu required to write for this class is absolutely maddening. I may not be the only person to know that he wrote about Mary Shelley, but her assessments on the value of life spring to mind as my possible opening fodder. But if I hook with the line, how do I lead into something personal?
I start trying to mind map, but I just waste a bunch of graph paper. I don’t get my notes edited. I need to clear my head and get ready for my next class. I can’t screw up every class I start this semester over what Delia calls my “old timey lady boner” over a professor who’s like 200 percent off limits.
Emmaline
After the hellish English class debacle this morning, I'm grateful that all my classes went smoothly today, when I finish my after-class notes for my Calculus II lecture today. I’m the only sophomore in that class, the first in the university, and I had to get special permissions for it. That was easier than the English class, in my major.
That’s because the professor didn’t distract me with his voice. I could be the good student I normally am, instead of the girl who’s thinking about drawing their professor’s name in little hearts rather than writing down important notes. This is not who I am!
Not only that, my thighs are sticky … I'm not the person to be sitting around with pent up lust and thinking filthy thoughts and not about school…
I need to go for a run.
I slide into some leggings, and change from the bandeau bra I was wearing into a sports bra. I put a racer back tank top on, and find a pair of socks, and then lace up my running shoes. Every step I take, I’ll clear my head. When it starts to burn, then I can get past all of this. I’m not looking to be this girl. Emmaline Travers doesn’t have a perfect GPA, a shiny organized planner, Instagrammable notes, and the insatiable urge to let some dumb crush on my teacher ruin my life!
I start running, and I’m working up a sweat, but I’m still thinking about how I started to sweat when Ethan chastised me in class. I never thought of myself as the kind of girl who would get turned on being scolded, but something about the way he had authority over me and I was in trouble for being late … why the hell was it hot? I guess I should talk to Delia about it, but that’s the problem-solving stage, and I’m not actually working on solutions. I’m literally trying to run from the problem and make it go away! I laugh inwardly for a moment, picking up my pace and heading for the trail down the river. How did I let myself get so caught up in this? I know a run by the river is just what I need to cool my head. When my legs start burning, I know that I should slow down some, get myself to a more tolerable pace so that I don’t over-exert my stamina, but all the same I’m trying to distract myself. Maybe the aching muscles and pushing myself harder are just what I need.
After all, I didn’t put on the freshman 15, but I do have about five solid pounds that could stand to leave. That’s what I get for getting too hyped about avocado toast when I’ve got a ramen budget. Back to brown rice for me and time to remember that ‘good fats’ still make your ass fat!
Yeah, no more green douche fruit. Avocados are a fruit right?
See, this is the sort of high-quality, collegiate thinking I should be doing.
I see that some of the typical jock itches that were in English class with me are on the trail. I don’t even have time to finish a thought about how they are the kinds of guys that I'm supposed to be interested in before they start howling.
Greeeeeat.
“Hey, you could come sweat on this dick, save yourself some trouble!” One of those dicks yells out, and I can hear them over my running playlist.
They all laugh together like a pack of hyenas.
“Naw, naw, let her get all sweaty, make sure that ass is lubed up before I break it in!” Another one shouts that out.
Wow, boys my age, they sure know how to charm a girl. I roll my eyes and just keep running. Now I’m keeping my pace because I’m feeling a little winded, but no way in hell do I want to be near those douche bros.
I’m going to head up the river and then back, and I’m already thinking about turning up my music to drown those fuckers and my thoughts out. I would never get within a mile of dating a guy like that. But if Ethan wanted to touch me, I’d be up for anything.
Wow, I can’t believe I just thought that. I'm so distracted by my thoughts that I almost don’t see one of the guys from class catch up with me.
“Emmaline, right?” As far as I can tell, he was one of the one’s laughing before, but I don’t recognize his voice from some of the catcalling, so I guess he thinks he still has a chance?
As fucking if.
“What?” I say. I really don’t want to talk to him, but I’ll hear what he has to say, shut him down, and head back to my room. I want to get started on that next English assignment. I'm thinking about English and not Ethan giving the assignment. I don’t have this class again for a few days, but I like to finish assignments, or at least get started on them, as soon as I get them. I like to keep on track of things.
And honestly I should probably meet up with Delia. Study and tea — our commitment to avoid snacking so that we stay trim and focus on doing homework instead of things like drinking.
“Basically, just wanted to apologize,” this guy says. “I’m Aiden, my bros, they weren’t trying to hurt your feelings or anything.”
“Okay, sure,”
I say, and I nod because I’m looking to keep running without company. “Thanks for apologizing.”