Page 170 of Filthy Elites

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“Mr. Hart,I’m sorry you’re finding the material this morning so boring. Mr. Hart… Mr. Hart!”

A foot slams against the back of my chair and I jolt awake, gripping my pencil in my fingers. My professor, with his graying hair and Coke-bottle glasses, is two feet away, staring at me intently. A quick glace around tells me everyone else is too.

“Thank you for joining us. I know molecular biology isn’t the most enthralling subject, but generally my students at least pretend to pay attention.”

“Sorry,” I mumble. I catch the eye of the girl next to me. She’s pretty. Long hair. Stylish clothes. Shoes to die for. Two weeks ago, she would have been me. She wrinkles her nose points at my chin. I touch it, realizing it’s wet with drool, and quickly wipe it away with the sleeve of my hoodie. God, what’s happened to me?

“Thank you,” Professor Dawes replies, his smile tight and condescending. “Maybe you can tell us what you see on the next slide.”

I manage to fumble through the answer and stay awake through the rest of the class. When we’re dismissed, I stand up and look to see who kicked my chair. I’m shocked to see it’s Janelle.

“Thanks for that,” I say, avoiding her eye.

“Yeah, I did it as much for myself as anything.” She slings her black messenger bag across her chest. “The professor had been staring you down for most of the class, which meant he was basically only focused on this section of the room. It was stressing me out.”

“Oh, well, thanks anyway.”

She eases out of the row of seats. “It’s just so fucking dumb.”

I look around and see that she’s still talking to me. “What is?”

Her eyes flick to the numbered pin on my shirt. “This Greek thing. Going through all this bullshit to pay for friends. It doesn’t make sense.”

I barely know Janelle, but I do know the look in her eye. She doesn’t just think it doesn’t make sense. She thinks it’s pathetic.

“People have a lot of reasons for joining a fraternity.” Like getting back at the bitch who blacklisted me. “No one gives a shit if you don’t join. Why do you care what anyone else does?”

She rolls her eyes and walks off.

Hitching my backpack over my shoulder, I walk out of the room and into the hallway. Unfortunately, the first person I see is Andrea surrounded by a group of GE’s. I stare at them for a long, wistful moment. None of them have rings under their eyes, giving the implication they’re getting a full night’s sleep, and not having to deal with dried cum on their stomach, because even if they did have a guy jerk off over them, they at least took a shower afterward.

That could have been me. Should have.

“Theo.”

It takes a second for that name to process, but it finally does, and I turn. Grayson is a few feet away, casually lurking behind a column. He jerks his head for me to follow him. Ignoring the peel of laughter coming from the group of sorority girls, I walk down the hall, aware of Grayson vanishing behind a closing door.

Resting my hand on the doorknob, I take a deep breath and open the door.

“You look like shit.”

That’sthe first thing he says.

“And you look like a dork in those glasses,” I retort, not in the mood for any of this.

“Ouch,” he says, pushing them up the bridge of his nose. “Okay. I guess I deserved that. I wasn’t trying to be a jerk. I was just… noting how hard the past few days must have been.”

I look around the room. It’s not a room, really. It’s a closet. The walls are lined with shelves. Supplies are neatly arranged on each one. The unexpected thing is Grayson. He’s not in his nerdy T-shirt or worn-out jeans. He’s in a jacket and nice pants—dressed for work at the Greek council. The glasses… well, they don’t look dorky at all. They look—dammit—a little sexy.

Exhaustion wells in my chest and, embarrassingly, tears prick at my eyes. I rub them with the base of my palms. I’m losing my mind. I know I am, because Grayson is not sexy. Are my standards collapsing already?

“You okay?”

I refuse to look at him, but answer, “It definitely hasn’t been a cake-walk.”

His hand rests on my shoulder. Gentle and supportive, or at least that’s the impression. I tense in response and shrug him away. I’m not in the position to trust men at the moment.

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