Page 6 of Collision
“Bigheaded!” I exclaim, feeling like an idiot for not being able to think of anything more offensive.
Thomas all but laughs in my face, again. This day is turning out to be a total nightmare.
“I’ve been called worse.” He shakes his head, amused.
Oh, I bet he has.
“Let me tell you something: I don’t know you, I don’t know what problems you have, I don’t know why you decided to sit here next to me, when clearly your only goal seems to be to annoy me. But my favorite class is about to begin, a class that’s very important to me, a class I’ve been waiting for all summer, and if you dare—”
“Wait, wait, wait,” he interrupts me, widening his eyes. “What did you say?”
I look at him without understanding, wondering if he’d heard a single word I’d said.
“That my favorite class is about to start.”
“No, after that.”
“That if you dare ruin it…”
“No, before that.”
“That I’ve been waiting all summer for this class to start?” There it is again. That dumbfounded stare.
“Are you fucking serious? You spent the summer waiting”—he glances around incredulously—“for this?”
I lift my chin, proud. I will not allow this arrogant jerk to make me feel like something’s wrong with me just because I love studying more than anything. “Judge all you want, I don’t care. What I do care about is being able to follow the lecture in peace,” I say flatly.
A few seconds later, the philosophy professor finally enters the classroom. He immediately notices Thomas’s presence and rolls his eyes.
Same here, Professor. Same here.
“Mr. Collins, what an unpleasant surprise!” Professor Scott remarks sarcastically. “I’ve heard a lot about you at the faculty meetings. What brings you here today?”
“Nothing particular, just a requirement to keep my spot on the team,” he replies coolly, tapping his pencil on the desk. “Though, to be fair, the girls taking it are pretty good motivation.”
When I turn toward him furiously, I see that he was staring right at me. I feel my cheeks burn, and his smirk tells me that he wanted to humiliate me in front of everyone. The snickers coming from the back of the classroom were the icing on the cake. But why target me? I haven’t done anything to him.
Professor Scott isn’t at all bothered by the whole scene; he’s resigned. “Find yourself something to do, Collins, and don’t disturb the others,” he says simply.
As if nothing had happened, Thomas straightens up in his chair and leans toward me, invading my personal space. I’m enveloped by the fresh scent of vetiver with pungent hints of tobacco. “Careful, you’re blushing a little too much; someone might think you find me irresistible,” he whispers.
I look at him incredulously, dumbstruck by his presumption. “Theonly irresistible thing about you is your ability to show yourself exactly for who you are.”
“Oh, tell me, what am I?” he asks, as I see his eyes light up with curiosity.
“An asshole,” I reply dryly.
The insult seems to catch him by surprise, and the corner of his mouth turns up insolently. I’m not in the habit of talking like that, but he really had it coming.
The professor clears his throat, hinting for us to quiet down.
“You may have skated by in previous classes by some kind of divine grace. But this year, Mr. Collins, in my class you’ll have to work hard.”
Thomas only replies with a slight nod signaling his assent.
“Meanwhile, for all of you who take this class seriously and intend to broaden your intellectual horizons, I am pleased to announce that today we will begin with Kant.”
My eyes light up just hearing his name. I murmur gleefully as Thomas runs a hand over his face, muttering under his breath how stupid this whole class is.
