Grace

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Thank God it’s finally time for classes, I think as I walk across campus. Sociology 101. That’s where I’m headed. A breeze blows my hair into my face and I brush it away. No one told me how windy this campus is! My dorm is on a bit of a hill and the wind is up like there’s a tornado on the way or something.

After a twenty-minute trek across campus, I manage to make it to the sociology building, a big brick monstrosity that looks like it was built fifty years ago and never renovated.

The door sticks as I pull it open, and then gets caught by the wind and flies open so fast it almost knocks me over.

“Watch it!” Someone behind me grumbles as I filter in with the rest of the students.

Sociology 101, a sign reads with an arrow pointing to the right. The building smells musty with a hint of sawdust or old wood or something. It’s also humid. The air is thick like no one’s left a window open in ten years.

My feet squeak with every step on the tiled floor that looks like it’s been freshly waxed – probably the only thing in this building that has had any attention at all.

I follow the rest of the herd to an open set of maroon double doors that filter into the biggest classroom I’ve ever seen. Well – not a classroom. It’s a lecture hall, and it’s bigger than the movie theater back in my hometown. To be honest, I’m feeling a little intimidated.

Where do I sit?

There are some seats free in the front row, but the rest of the hall is filling up pretty quickly. I’ve heard through the grapevine that this class isn’t particularly difficult and the teacher is pretty chill, so I imagine it’s going to be a pretty full house.

I decide to grab a seat a few rows down in the middle. Who knows how these college classes are, and I don’t think I’m ready to put myself front and center right up in front of the professor.

I pull out my book, a used copy I managed to get, and my notebook and pen and instantly feel much more at ease. Class is where I feel most comfortable. Class, the library, or at home in my room with a book and some homework. Even if sociology ends up being awful, which I doubt, at least I won’t have Tommy Mason on my mind the entire time.

“Is this seat taken?” I hear a male voice beside me. Quickly, I grab my bag from the floor beside me and stuff it between my feet to make room.

“No, go right ahead—” I start to say, but when I turn to see the person now seated beside me, I almost die.

Tommy Mason.

“Yo,” he says with his trademark grin. “Same class! Imagine that.”

My mouth hangs open. I try to speak, but even if I could, I have no idea what to say. Class is where I was supposed to be able to escape – get my mind off Tommy and back on school where it belongs. And now here he is, sitting right beside me!

He’s so close I can smell him. And his scent is intoxicating. Whatever shampoo or soap he was using in the bathroom is there again, but this time there’s a hint of his natural smell underneath. The rest of the class melts away as I breathe it in and feel my primal side emerging.

What is this power he has over me?

I know I must look like an idiot, just staring back at him like I’ve been hit over the head with a brick, and a wave of self-consciousness hits me in the face like a bucket of ice water. I finally manage to stammer out, “Wh-what are you doing here!?”

“What, you think you’re the only one who goes to class here?” He chuckles, leans back in his chair like he’s the king of the world and it’s his throne. And I don’t think that’s far from the truth.

“No!” I blurt back. “I just – isn’t this a freshman class?”

“Eh,” he shrugs. “I didn’t take it last year, and I heard it was easy. So here I am.”

Here I am, he says. Yeah, like it’s that simple!

I feel my body reacting uncontrollably to his presence. My heart rate’s up, I’m flushed, probably blushing, and I’m sweating. My eyes move across his chiseled jaw and down his neckline to his shoulders. How is it possible for a man to be that in shape? His muscles looked like they were crafted by God and then placed on him perfectly.

“Grace,” he whispers in a voice that sends a shiver up my spine. “That’s your name, right?”

“Yes,” I whisper back, entranced by his eyes. “I—”

But I don’t get a chance to finish my thought. A door at the head of the class opens and the professor walks in.

“Good morning, everyone. I am Professor Gengris. You can call me Professor Gengris.”

Professor Gengris is a tall woman with broad shoulders, graying hair and glasses, and walks like she’s the Queen of Sparta. You can hear the entire class shift in their seats and quiet down.

“Two words of advice for surviving this class,” she goes on, addressing us with both hands on her hips. “If you don’t read the syllabus, you’ll most likely fail. And if you don’t do your reading – you’re fucked.”

Whoa!

One-half of the class gasps and the other laughs nervously. My teachers back in high school would never swear around us, and the first thing out of Professor Gengris’s mouth is the f-bomb? I guess college really is different.

“Now, first things first,” she says. “We’re going to be doing a semester long research project in groups of two. So look around, introduce yourself to someone and—”

“We’ll be partners!” Tommy blurts out from beside me, raising his hand into the air. I whip my head to stare at him but he’s not even looking at me.

“Ah, Mr. Mason,” Professor Gengris says with a knowing smile. “Found yourself a hostage, have you?”

“Ah, come on, professor,” Tommy chuckles. “You know everyone wants to be with me.”

The rest of the class laughs. I guess Tommy really is a star here.

“All right, Mr. Mason. What’s your partner’s name?”

“Grace,” he replies, not giving me a chance to answer. Professor Gengris looks down at her computer.

“Grace Kennedy?” She asks, looking up at me. I’m in such shock all I can do is nod.

Why aren’t I protesting!? I am screaming at myself inside. But what am I supposed to do? I’m shy and don’t want to start making a fuss on the first day of class, before I’ve even really met the professor. And what is everyone else going to think if I start saying I don’t want to be partnered up with Tommy Mason?

With my luck, I’ll end up being that weird girl that wanted another partner instead of the basketball stud on his way to the pros. Not to mention I’m still in utter shock at Tommy’s bold move.

It’s pretty clear at this point that what Tommy wants, Tommy gets.