chapter three
Knox
Motherfucker.
It’s the first day of the semester and I’m fucking running late. I suppose that’s what I get for staying up half the night screwing this redhead I met on Tinder. Can’t for the life of me remember her name, so we’ll go with Red.
She was fun as fuck, but, man, I should have gone to bed sooner. Paying the price for it now, that’s for damn sure.
My first class is Sociology 201, in the farthest building from my house. Why the hell are college classes available at eight in the morning on a fucking Monday? Who decides these things and how the hell did I get sucked into this one?
I finally haul my ass into the building, running to the elevators and… what do you fucking know… the elevators are out of service, so I have to take the stairs. Jesus fucking Christ. Nothing like an early morning stairway sprint, barely existing on three hours of sleep, and ten minutes late to class.
Two flights of stairs later, and positively out of breath thanks to my smoker lungs, I’m finally entering my class. Trying to sneak in as quietly as possible does nothing at all to stop the dozens of eyes locking on me the minute I walk in, including the very annoyed looking professor.
“And you are?” she asks me with a sigh.
She’d be hot as fuck if she wasn’t acting like such a bitch. She has on this tight ass pencil skirt that goes below her knees, with a slit in the back, an equally tight white button-up shirt that does amazing things for her tits, and her hair is up in a sexy as fuck librarian bun. Oh, and she has on glasses too.
“Knox. Knox Finnegan. Sorry I’m late.”
“Ah, Mr. Finnegan. So happy you could join us. Please find an empty seat, quietly.”
A quick glance around the room tells me this is a very full class. Glorious. Finding one single open seat at the very back of the class, I head that way, then stop in my tracks as I get closer.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
Not only is Aston fucking Walker taking this class too, but he’s also sitting next to the only available seat in the whole room.
He knows it too, with his irritating as fuck, cocky ass grin taking up his face as he looks at me. What I wouldn’t give to deck him one more time.
“Mr. Finnegan,” Professor Panty Wad sighs again from the front of the class. “If you could please take your seat now, so we can resume class.”
Rolling my eyes and practically dragging my feet, I slide my ass into the seat with a huff. I’m not fucking happy about this.
“Sup, Finny,” Aston whispers next to me. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Shut the fuck up, Walker.”
“Oh, Mr. Finnegan, you can’t come to class late and disrupt it by talking. That’s simply rude.”
Okay, she’s really fucking annoying.
So is Aston, who is now snickering at me.
Lord help me.
This is going to be a long fucking semester. I will need to make extra sure I’m early for this class when I have it again on Wednesday, so I don’t get stuck sitting next to this dingleberry.
Professor Panty Wad starts speaking to the class again. “Alright, as I was saying before we were interrupted, this class has a lot of buddy and group projects. In order to ensure consistency, we will keep the same partners throughout the duration of the class. Where you are sitting now will remain your seat all semester and your neighbor will also be your partner.”
This must be a goddamn joke.
Surely, it must be.
Raising my hand, I swear I see her eyes roll behind her fuck-me glasses. “Yes, Mr. Finnegan?”
“Yeah, can I please have a different seat and a different neighbor… please?”
“I’m so very sorry, but no.” She doesn’t sound the least bit sorry, but whatever. “Maybe in the future, you can practice better time management and arrive at your classes on time, or even early, then you can have the pick of seats. Unfortunately, that is simply not going to be the case for this class. This is a full room and everyone else who managed to arrive on time already picked their seats.”
More chuckling from the jackass on my right. The self-control I’m practicing right now should be impressive.
Fuck me.
Fuck this class.
Fuck Professor Panty Wad.
And fuck the Justin Timberlake Circa 2000 Wannabe next to me.
******
“Nah, dude, my morning professor is a total bitch,” I explain to Weston as we’re cleaning up dinner.
“Is she a bitch?” he asks. “Or were you just late?”
“Okay, yes. I was late, but she behaved completely unfairly.”
This fucker rolls his eyes at me, like I’m being ridiculous.
“And then!” I exclaim. “The only available seat in the whole fucking room is next to fucking Walker, bro, and she tells us those are our seats for the whole damn semester.”
His phone rings before he can respond, so he simply laughs at me before answering his cell phone and putting it on speaker. “Branson, my man!”
“How’s it going?”
“All’s well here with me. Knox is having a conniption about one of his new professors.”
“Fuck off, West,” I mumble.
“I wanted to call real quick and let you both know that we should be back in a few days. Andrew is doing better.”
“Ah, that’s awesome, bro! Happy to hear that.”
“Yeah, that’s great news, Bran,” I agree, before tending to my own phone, which vibrates in my pocket, alerting me of a new message.
Red: Hey ;)
What the hell does she want?
Me: Hi.
Red: How was your day?
Me: Fan-fucking-tastic.
Red: Oh, nice. Mine was good too.
Didn’t ask, but okay.
Red: So, did you want to hang out maybe? :)
Me: Nah, busy. Sorry.
Red: Oh, okay. Maybe another time.
Maybe not.
I need to stop giving Tinder bitches my phone number.
Heading into the bathroom, I decide to take a shower before the hockey game starts. Deal with the Devil by Pop Evil plays through the Google Home speaker in the bathroom while I undress and get the water started.
Climbing under the spray, I relish the feel of the hot water beating down on my tired body. Today was horseshit. I can’t believe I have to spend an entire semester sitting next to him. He’s so smug and arrogant, I can’t fucking stand it.
Knowing that I’m going to have to do group projects with him, probably outside of class, is enough to make my head explode. Thinking back to that party in high school when my hatred for him began, it’s like it was yesterday. Who the hell did he think he was pulling shit like that? He kissed me out of fucking nowhere and then acted like it was no big deal.
Fuck that.
I have no issue with gay people, none. My best friend is gay, and I love him all the same, but fuck, I’m not gay. You can’t go around kissing whoever you want like that… you just can’t.
I remember the ice-cold chill that ran through me after I pushed him off, wondering what would happen if someone saw and it got back to my fucking dad.
No.
I need to talk to Professor Panty Wad. I can’t spend the entire semester next to him, working on projects with him. No way. I already know it’s going to end with his hazel eyes bruised black and his straight button nose broken.
Thinking of his amused, half-ass grin today in class still makes me want to punch a fucking wall. Everything about him makes me want to punch something, actually.
He wore a stupid black beanie that hid his ashy blonde hair, matching his black long-sleeve shirt, which covered up most of his tattoos, except for the ones on his hands. A silver hoop decorated his nose instead of his usual stud, and a light dusting of facial hair lined his defined jaw, as if he hadn’t shaved in a few days.
Smug motherfucker.
I’ll email her. That’s what I’ll do, send an email requesting—no, demanding—a change in seats. She can’t force me to sit there; that has to be a violation of my goddamn constitutional rights.
Nice.
Bringing my attention back to the shower, I notice I’m hard as steel and have no fucking clue why. In reality, I should have allowed Red to come over, even if only for a quick blowie. I probably just need the release, but shit, the idea of having to talk to her makes my skin crawl.
Nah, I can take care of it myself, which requires no small talk. Win-win.
Running my hand down my stomach, I wrap my palm around my hot, already throbbing cock, hissing at the contact. Fuck, what better way to end a shitty day than with an orgasm. Pumping myself in earnest, I reach down, cupping my sac with my other hand, rolling it around and tugging on it just right.
It takes hardly any time at all before I feel my release creeping up my spine. Fucking my hand harder now, I let my head drop back. With my eyes closed, a familiar crooked grin flashes in my mind that belongs to someone I shouldn’t be thinking about, but before I can get rid of the image, a sigh falls from my lips as I come all over my hand.
Rinsing off my release, I step out of the shower, getting dressed in black sweats and a crimson WSU t-shirt.
What the fuck was that?
I need to get started on this email. I can’t sit next to him for an entire semester.