The professor's words, plus the giggles from the girls next to Sawyer across the room, make me wish a giant pit would open up underneath me and swallow me whole. Instead, I jut out my chin and harden my eyes. “I’m more than interested, and I deserve to be here. I’d have notes on your class and what we were talking about, but you don’t believe inarchaicmethods of note taking, and since my laptop isn’t quite up to scratch, I don’t have notes for where we are. If you want me to focus, maybe be more lenient with your requirements. But if you’re wanting me to answer whatever it is you asked me, please, repeat the question and I’ll happily try to answer.”
There goes my mouth again.
I wince internally while keeping eye contact with the professor. The room goes so still and silent you could hear a pin drop.
I mean, he didn’t like me already. I don’t really have that much to lose.
I hope.
“I suggest you stay behind after class, Miss Moore,” is all he says before continuing to talk about how different parts of the world have more prominent mental disorders and the consequences of labeling.
I spend the rest of the class on high alert, waiting for him to snap back at me, but by the time class ends, he hasn’t so much as looked at me again. I wait as the class empties and Connor waits with me without even saying a word.
“Mr. Berkley, you can leave now.” He levels a stare at Connor, who glances at me. I nod. No point dragging this out.
“I’ll wait outside for you,” he says, squeezing my shoulder as he stands and leaves. Which is nice, but a little too friendly, considering I barely know him. I smile regardless, because I don’t exactly treasure the thought of being alone with my new professor who seems to hate me already.
“You too Mr. St. Vincent,” he says, and I realize Sawyer is still in his seat. He eyes the professor skeptically before standing, sweeping his blond hair out of his face before bouncing down the steps with that golden retriever energy of his hanging out all over the place.
“That’s cool, Noah,” Sawyer says with a smirk. “We’ll catch up later.”
I guess he really does know the professor. He must if they’re on a first name basis, though from the look on Crawford's face, he isn’t exactly a fan of Sawyer calling him Noah.
The door closes with a slam once he leaves, and I wince as I make my way down to the front of the class where an angry Professor Crawford is leaning against his desk with his arms crossed, glaring at my every movement.
“Miss Moore, what is the point of you being in my class if you don’t want to be here?” he snaps at me, and I just blink at him.
The audacity of this man. “Who said I don’t want to be here? Sawyer?” I counter, trying not to sound as defensive as I feel.
“No. Your actions, Miss Moore. They speak louder than any words could. You turn up to class and disrupt it. Mr. St. Vincent disrupted on your behalf this morning. You don’t have your books or the correct equipment. From what I can tell, you have no excuses for any of this, and then you don’t even have the common decency to actually pay attention during my class.” He leers at me, like my body appeals to him, but everything else about me revolts him.
Elitist pervert alert.
I take a deep breath, pushing my nails into the palms of my hands as I clench my fists. “Firstly, Professor Crawford, if you knew anything about me, you’d know I only registered for classes at the end of last week, and until that time, I didn’t even know I was coming here. I don’t come from money like most of the students in your class, and I haven’t had the chance to get the equipment or books before now, but if you paid attention, you’d see I actually have my book for this class, which I got earlier today. Now, I don’t know if you’re classist, or if you just have something against me personally, but if you’d allow for pen and paper, I’d have taken plenty of notes up to now.”
He rolls his eyes at me and I swear to God, I’ve never wanted to slap the look off someone's face so bad as I do now. This jerk off might actually be a bigger jack hole than Travis.
And I didn’t think that was possible.
“Are you quite done, Miss Moore?” His patronizing tone makes my teeth ache and my temper burn in my chest. I swear, if I was a supernatural type like the characters I’ve read about, I’d have thrown a fireball at this guy's head by now, dammit.
“I don’t know, am I?” I counter as he sits at his desk.
“Make sure you’re prepared for our next class. Otherwise, you’ll be dropped. You can go now.” He dismisses me with a wave, not even bothering to look at me. My cheeks sting with indignation as I turn and storm from the room.
Giant. Fucking. Asshole.
“Hey, Briar! Wait up!”
I barely hear the voice through the roaring in my ears, but a hand on my shoulder makes me spin around, ready to launch myself at whoever the next person to mess with me is. When I find a concerned-looking Connor, I pump the brakes on the torrent of rage that's about to spew from my mouth.
I take small mercies in the fact that Sawyer hasn’t hung around.
“Are you okay?” he asks, taking a step back. He might be a little off, but at least he can apparently still read social cues.
“No, I’m far from okay, but thanks for checking.”
He rubs the back of his neck, obviously feeling awkward, buthechased afterme. “Okay, well, we’re starting up a study group for both of Crawford’s classes, and I wanted to invite you to join the group.”