Isobel pulled into her usual parking spot, nearly hitting someone else's car. It was a crisp winter day, but the sun was shining. She basked for just a second, feeling the vitamin D. When would the constant exhaustion go away? Or at least, when would she stop noticing it? She felt like she'd been tired for a hundred years.

She crossed the grass and pathways to the art building. Most of the school was built out of brick, except for the new library, which was a modern building with walls made out of huge, mirror-like windows. It reflected the rest of the buildings and their pretty red brick, which was probably the point. Isobel had been very shocked to see the new plans, but then again, it didn't matter to her all that much what the buildings looked like.

The art building where most of Isobel's classes took place was a two-story building with a rather grand entrance. There was something homey about it, as if someone had just decided to install some classrooms in their house.

There was only one lecture hall, and Isobel usually sat in the middle. She heard a few people chatting as she walked in, but she was on autopilot today. A girl giggled, and she heard something vaguely offensive come out of a boy's mouth, but that was pretty normal. She walked up to her usual seat in the middle of the auditorium, only to find that it was taken.

That guy from the other night at the club sat in her chair. Several people had been glaring daggers at him for stealing her seat and upsetting the natural order of things; several others were clearly beguiled into his dashing good looks, tattoos, and charisma.

"Hi, you're Isabella, right?" he said. Isobel struggled not to roll her eyes.

"It's Isobel. You're in my spot," she said in a flat tone.

"There's assigned seating? I didn't know that was how it worked in college."

"No, there is no assigned seating. But that's my spot. It has been my spot since the first day of classes."

Rodney leaned in, but kept talking at the same volume.

"Are you just being a jerk to me because of Evan? You really shouldn't. I mean, who's the bigger jerk? The guy that steals your seat, or the guy who porks you in the night club bathroom?"

Isobel went pale with anger. It was suddenly very difficult not to hurt him. She was annoyed about the seat on principal, but this was too much. The girls sitting behind Rodney began quietly whispering to each other and looking at Isobel. She sighed.

Isobel moved down a few rows to a seat which was usually empty. Unfortunately, Rodney wasn't going to be so easily dissuaded. As she was taking her notebooks out and beginning to copy the notes for the day, he appeared in a tumble and crashed into the seat beside her, leaning against the little writing surface. He grinned like a crazy person.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I shouldn't mention how you got stuffed in the bathroom like a Christmas turkey. That was crass. Let me try again. Hi, my name is Rod Czerny, what's yours?" he asked, holding out his hand.

Isobel glanced over. He had a tattoo on the base of his palm of a wolf. In fact, now that she was looking at him, he had a fair number of tattoos. He also had shaggy blonde hair and gray-blue eyes.

"Do you even go here?" she asked.

"I took a campus tour once."

"I'm going to call security if you don't leave."

"Aw, don't be like that . . ."

The professor came into the room talking quickly. Professor Robin was in fact an academic deity, but she had a hard time slowing down during lecture. The problem was that she tried to pack EVERYTHING into the lecture at once, since they only met twice a week, and there was a lot to go over.

This was fine with Isobel, normally, however it was problematic today, as Isobel started to feel a little crushed under Rodney's leering eye.

"Hey, can I have a piece of paper?" he stage-whispered in her ear. His breath smelled like cigarettes.

She handed him a piece of paper.

She had no idea what to do. Now that half of the school was about to find out that she was the kind of girl who got busy in bathrooms, she wasn't about to cause any kind of disruption that would further tarnish her reputation. Thus far, her social life here at the Alexander Bell University had consisted entirely of men ignoring her. She had a feeling that might change after this episode.

Rod pulled a pencil out of his pocket and pretended to take notes. Isobel wanted to puke a little. She tried to keep up with the rapid-fire lecture. Students who took notes got extra credit equivalent to the amount of notes they took.

Then, finally, after the first hour of the ninety-minute lecture, Professor Robin looked up and saw Rodney, and actually paused.

"Are you new?" she asked him.

"I mean, relatively speaking, we are all pretty new," Rodney responded.

Isobel took her chance.

"He doesn't even go here."

"Oh. Sir, could you please leave before I call security?"

"Can I just stay until the lecture is over?"

Isobel shook her head and tried to give as many subtle signals as she could that no, this was a bad idea, don't let him stay. But Rodney hadn't actually caused any disruptions. He was literally only bothering her. Her plan not to raise a big stink was backfiring magnificently.

"Oh, I suppose. But don't start anything, and please leave campus as soon as this class period is over. You aren't supposed to be here unless you are a student or faculty."

"Right. Totally understand, Ma'am."

"Professor is fine."

"Right."

Isobel glared daggers at Rodney. There were so many reasons to hate his stupid douchey guts. She was struggling even harder now about the urge to punch him and leave.

She packed up her things quietly, and left right then. She knew Rodney was following her out, and that all eyes were on her, but she kept her chin raised high as she could.

* * *

Rodney followed Isobel out of class, out of the building, and through the quadrangle, with all of its dying grass and unraked leaves. Outside, he seemed more annoying, and more . . . physical. He was literally running around her in circles.

"So, Isobel, babe. What's going on with you and Evan, anyway? I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but he doesn't seem like your type. He's tall, dark, criminal. Between you and me, I think he's a little gay too. Although you university girls don't usually mind guys who are a little gay. I think it's the beta thing, personally—they don't usually try to tell you what to do."

Isobel did not answer. She had forgotten where the security office was by now, since she'd never had to use it, and she was wondering if it was best to just go straight to the office and have them call.

"Maybe that's it. Maybe you're that kind of girl that just wants alphas around for the wild years, then you find yourself a good little beta when you're ready to settle down. One who will fix the dishwasher and do as you say."

Isobel huffed.

"What is it that you want?" she asked. Her voice was a little shrill, and that was her mistake, because Rodney latched right onto that.

"To piss you off," he sneered, mimicking her shrill tone.

Isobel turned and walked into the main office, deciding right then and there that she was done listening to Rodney. Anger made her stomach clench up and she wanted to whirl around and punch him right then, but she knew for several reasons that it wouldn't work out well for her.

First of all, Rodney was built a lot like Evan. She had a feeling he was just as fast, just as agile. He also seemed way more likely to punch a girl out if she hit him.

Inside the office, a woman with a red perm looked up at Isobel and smiled. "Hi, dear, what can I do for you?"

"Call Security to get this jackhole off campus," she said as she pulled her phone out of her shirt. She swiftly opened the phone's camera feature and aimed at Rodney's face. Rodney smiled prettily for the camera.

"Oh, um, okay," said the lady. "Is he a student?"

"No, he's not."

"How do you know I'm not?"

"Well, what's your name?" the office lady asked him.

"Timothy Wellington."

The office lady typed the name into the computer. "Oh, well, there it is."

"What?" Isobel demanded, turning around and trying to lean over the counter to see. The lady turned her monitor to show Isobel that there was in fact a Timothy Wellington that went to this school that also had blond hair and blue eyes, and was of a similar build to Rodney.

"If that's the case, where's your student ID?"

"In my backpack."

Isobel looked at the lady with desperation in her eyes. "Ma'am, please—"

"I think I'm being discriminated against," said Rodney solemnly. He raised his chin up high.

Isobel's jaw dropped. "What? How?"

"How are you being discriminated against, dear?"

"Isobel here doesn't like me because of my sexuality. She thinks I'm a sinner, so she's trying to make my life hard and get me kicked off campus so I miss my next class."

"What!? No!" Isobel cried in shock and horror. Rodney was enjoying every second of this, and he was not about to end this little game.

"Now, Timothy, I'm sure that's not true. Isobel here is one of our most open and loving students. She has led several student movements and events for tolerance. I'm sure there's just a miscommunication here. I will set up a meeting with the adviser and we can get this little issue hashed out, alright? How's Friday?"

Isobel stared at the woman. Rodney looked like he'd just been presented with the grand trophy at the World Trolling Championship.

"Yes, Friday is fine. Thank you, ma'am," she said, before turning and walking out of the office. Rodney followed her, grinning from ear to ear.

"To be honest with you, I didn't think that would actually work. I love it when that happens."

"Rodney, seriously. What is it that you want?" she demanded, trying to clear her mind of the fog of pure, disbelieving rage that had settled over her higher speech functions. "I just want you to go away and leave me alone. I don't know what's going on with you and Evan, if you guys are fighting or sleeping together or what. I honestly don't care. I just want you to leave me alone."

"Oh, sweetheart," he said, getting uncomfortably close. Isobel didn't budge. She didn't even move backward when his nose almost touched hers. His hands were in his pockets. He was not going to touch her.

"I'm not trying to bother you specifically. Although it is really fun to piss you off, it's not what my end goal is. I just want Evan to get mad. Spitting mad. I want him to get so mad that he can't think."

"Why?"

"Because Evan is better than me. He's just a little faster, a little stronger, a little smarter. I'm not okay with that. See, I want Evan's job. He's the big winner. Everyone loves him. He gets top dollar, he gets all the girls, all the glory. Men look at him differently. Women look at him desirously. I love it. I want it."

"Have you considered just not sucking?"

"Wow! Ouch," he said, whirling away from her. "You wound me, Isobel."

"I don't think I do," she said. "I don't think I do at all."

Rodney smiled patronizingly at her. "Smarty pants, goody-two-shoes twerp. I bet you're a little freak. You probably like that crazy stuff, the ball gags and whatever. I bet he gets you just right," he said, slowly gyrating his hips. Isobel rolled her eyes.

"I have class," she said, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "I can't make you leave the campus, apparently, but I do carry mace and I will use it on you if you don't leave me alone, Timothy Wellington."

"Yeah?"

She turned and saw the guy who had been in the picture on the computer monitor inside the office.

"Oh, hey Tim!" she said eagerly, even though she had no clue who he was. "Good to see you. Meet Timothy Wellington, show him around, would ya?" she asked, clapping him on the arm and pointing to Rodney. "I have class."

She turned and walked away, wondering when exactly men had gotten so particularly annoying.