Sweet Home, Page 2

I turned to head to class, and the guy looked back at me over his shoulder, announcing roughly, “I’m Rome.”

  “Molly,” I said quickly. Rome’s teeth dragged over his bottom lip as he nodded slowly, regarding me from head to toe with an unusually deep intensity. Then without another word, he entered the philosophy classroom.

  After taking a moment to gather my wits, I proceeded to shoulder through the entrance, where automatically several sets of eyes fixed onto me. I edged in farther, feeling slightly Bridget Jones-esque in my disastrous arrival.

  Professor Ross eyed me harshly and I grimaced as I approached her desk, laying down the course syllabi and twiddling with my fingers in utter embarrassment. She waved me over to stand beside her at the lectern. I did as she requested and lifted my head to the class, who were all watching the newbie Brit make an absolute tit out of herself.

  The professor pointed in my direction and spoke in her posh Queen’s English accent, looking like an old boarding school marm in her two-piece brown tweed suit, grey hair in a tight French twist, and tiny half-lens glasses. “I would like to introduce you all to Molly. She, like me, is also from England, and she has agreed to study for her master’s degree at this fine college and continue in her duel role of being my research assistant for a journal that I’m currently writing for an academic periodical, and my teaching assistant for this class.

  “I have known Molly for a few years now and couldn’t think of anyone better to experience this sabbatical year in the States with me. As you will all soon discover, she is quite the exceptional young lady.”

  The professor moved aside, gesturing me to address the class with a wave of her hand. “Molly, why don’t you say a few words to your new classmates?”

  I took a deep breath and stepped to the lectern, lifting my eyes guardedly. “Hey, everyone. Like Professor Ross said, I’ve moved to Alabama from England to study for my master’s in philosophy with the aim of starting my PhD next year to achieve my ultimate goal of becoming a professor.” My eyes scanned the rows. There were about thirty people in total in the small lecture hall.

  “I have loved religious philosophy for as long as I can remember and I’m happy to be here to help Professor Ross in the lectures and seminars and try to make the wonderful world of philosophy just that little bit more interesting! I’ll be happy to answer any questions about—”

  “I have one.”

  I followed the sound of the voice that cut me off and it led me to the redhead from the hallway… who was sitting right next to Rome.

  “Why the hell would you want to be a professor in philosophy? Don’t you think it’s a bit of a waste of your life?”

  I was used to this question.

  “Why not philosophy? Everything in life, on Earth, can be questioned—why, how, how can that be? To me, the mystery of life and the universe is inspiring, the vastness of unanswered questions floors me, and I love immersing myself in the academic journey of scholars both ancient and new.”

  She sputtered a laugh. “How old are you, honey?”

  “Erm… twenty.” I nervously looked around the room, seeing lots of wide eyes focused on me.

  “Twenty! And you’re already on your master’s?”

  “Well, yes. I went to university a year young. I tested out of high school early.”

  “Damn, girl, you need to stop bein’ so damn serious and learn to live a little. Life’s not all about studying; it’s about having fun. Lighten the hell up!” She shook her head in bewilderment, her long hair bouncing perfectly with the movement. “I swear I’ll never understand girls like you.”

  Several students shuffled uncomfortably in their seats at her candid comments. The redhead seemed pleased with herself. I’m sure in her opinion, her second attempt at tearing me down had worked.

  “Girls like me?” I queried, only a slight edge to my voice.

  A set of expensive-looking pearly white veneers almost blinded me as she smiled bitchily. “Bookworms, nerds… wannabe professors!”

  I narrowed my eyes in response, trying to maintain a professional attitude, gripping the wood of the lectern at her shitty tone, and swiftly decided to screw professionalism. I was going to fight back. I’d had a crap day so far—tonight would be worse—so I decided to fully commit to having the ultimate day from hell.

  “Studying and knowledge, I believe, gives a person power, not money or status or what designer you wear,” I said coolly.

  “Really? You actually believe that?”

  “Of course I do. Opening your mind to unknown possibilities and learning how other cultures function, what they believe, gives people a richer, more holistic understanding of the human condition. Philosophy offers answers to an array of questions.

  “For example, why do some people coast through life with ease, devoid of all compassion for others? Whilst others—good, caring, and honest humans—are dealt blow after blow but somehow find the inner strength to carry on? Don’t you think if more people took the time to be conscientious to mankind’s troubles, then maybe the world would be a better place?”

  The girl flicked her hair nervously, no answer to my question, her ruby-red lips tightening as she stared at me in annoyance.

  “That is why I study over getting drunk every night. The world deserves to have people who think of others before themselves, that strive to be less selfish and superficially concerned.” I glared at her and announced in a pseudo-friendly voice, “I hope that offers you some insight to why I want to be a professor. It’s who I am and I’m very proud of that fact.”

  “Fuck! That told you, Shelly! Schooled!” a gruff male voice muttered, causing the rest of the class to break the heavy silence with laughter. My head whipped up when I realised it came from Rome slouched low in his seat, feet up, and currently laughing to himself, the rest of the class joining in. A deep sense of satisfaction settled in my stomach.

  Shelly’s mouth gaped and she abruptly ended the conversation with a dismissive, “Whatever! Good luck fitting in ‘round here acting like that!”

  Professor Ross tapped me on the shoulder and whispered in my ear to quickly hand out the course syllabus before the class finished. I could tell she was pissed off at my behaviour.

  I swiftly grabbed the papers off the oak desk and began handing each one out along the rows of students as the professor explained how she would grade papers and the rules and standards of her classes.

  I’d made it to the final row of seats and immediately saw Rome staring right at me, an unexplainable glimmer in his eyes. He dipped his head in greeting with a hard line to his mouth. I gave a quick flash of a smile.

  Shelly edged closer to him, never taking her eyes off mine. Judging by the positioning of her body—legs bent, touching his, her ample chest brushing against his arm—she and Rome were obviously very friendly.

  I moved to hand the last sheet out to Shelly when she trilled, “Nice shoes, Molly. Do all future philosophy professors have such fantastic taste in fashion?” Students snickered at my expense.

  I glimpsed down at my budget-friendly Crocs, viewed her fancy gold—no doubt expensive—gladiator sandals, and sighed sadly through my nose.

  Rome instantly pushed her leg away from his thigh and spat, “Quit it, Shel. Why d’you have to be such a fuckin’ bitch all the time?” His remark also effectively silenced the rest of the room, the take-no-shit attitude causing the class to turn away from my awkwardness and cower in their seats to avoid his unwanted attention.

  Shelly folded her arms and slumped in a sulk.

  Rome ignored her petty attitude and lifted his eyes back to me, flicking his chin. “You really believe what you said just now?”

  “Which part?”

  He shifted awkwardly on his chair, his fingers combing roughly through his messy blond hair. “‘Bout life bein’ unfair. ‘Bout philosophy givin’ answers to why some people get dealt shit and others don’t.”

  “Vehemently,” I replied with unwavering certainty.

  He nodded
slowly, upturning his bottom lip, seeming almost impressed.

  I swung away with urgency in my step and dropped into the seat behind the TA’s desk at the side of the room. I kept my head low while the class was dismissed.

  “Molly.”

  I lifted my head to find the professor standing before me, censure on her wrinkled face. “Care to explain what happened just now? It was so out of character.”

  “Suzy—”

  “Erm, Professor Ross in class, Molly. What’s come over you?”

  Grimacing, I said, “Sorry. My head is all over the place at the moment.”

  “You haven’t answered my question.”

  As I met her stern stare, I could see not only disappointment at my lack of professionalism in her aged eyes, but also a flicker of worry.

  I sighed. “Just a bad day. Nothing more. It won’t happen again.”

  Suzy dropped her arms, her reprimand of my behaviour forgotten. “Don’t let people like that young lady affect you. Never make excuses for who you are.”

  A smile spread on my face. “Thank you, professor. Lesson learned. She just… I don’t know… got to me for some reason.”

  “I could see that. But next time, block her out. Just ignore it.”

  I nodded in agreement.

  “Now, why don’t you get yourself home?”

  “Thanks, professor.” I grabbed my brown leather satchel from the back of my chair and walked out of class.

  Rome was in the hallway with a skinny blond girl’s arms wrapped around his neck, her chest flush against his red football shirt as he attempted to wield her off with an exasperated expression on his face.

  I froze in my tracks, feeling incredibly awkward at the situation.

  “But… but… why not? You never refuse me!” the blonde whined as she reluctantly let go of Rome’s neck, crossing her arms and stamping her cream wedge-heeled foot in protest.

  “Things change,” Rome stated harshly, pushing her back from his body.

  “Change? You? Since when?”

  “Since right fuckin’ now! You’re not required anymore.”

  With an outraged cry, the blonde made her exit and Rome ran his palm down his face, looking beyond agitated, pressing his forehead dejectedly against the wall.

  Taking advantage of his turned back and with my firmly head down, I silently hurried past him, only breathing again when I’d successfully slipped by unnoticed.

  As I walked through the doors into the bright summer’s day, I couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed that Rome was obviously one of those guys—a player… heartbreaker… every inch the typical bad boy.

  With looks like that, it wasn’t exactly surprising.

  2

  “Tell me once again why the hell I’m parading around with a bed sheet loosely wrapped around my almost-exposed tits and arse?” I asked a bit louder than necessary as my friends and I headed for the dreaded initiation night at our chosen sorority.

  Lexi stopped on the spot and pulled me by my arm around to face her. “Because, I will finally become a cheerleader, goddamn it, and this is the easiest way in! Head cheer-bitch runs this whole sorority, and I intend to rub shoulders with her and use it to my own advantage. I’ve tried for three years without being in a sisterhood and nada. This is my last year to try, so quit that mouth and let’s get to it!”

  “I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again. We’re too old for this shit! We’re all senior age—upperclassmen—why the hell do they want us to join their chapter?”

  “Because,” she said with an exasperated tone. “They’re down on their quotas for upperclassmen and transfers—that’s us!” A scowl set on her impressively white face.

  Lexi was a five-foot-nothing Goth—complete with overly svelte figure, black pixie-cut hair, pure-white makeup and black kohl liner on her eyes and lips. She was the absolute antithesis of a stereotypical cheerleader, but she had this crazy dream that she would one day top the pyramid at a football game.

  I, her roommate, had been drafted in to be a support. Well, me and Cass, the larger-than-life near three hundred-pound blond Texan, who was trailing behind, scoping out which boys she’d like to devour tonight. As always, Cass was wearing her staple white Stetson and black leather cowboy boots, along with her sorority-required tight toga—that looked like a pillowcase—that she’d been catapulted into.

  As I looked at the three of us together, I couldn’t help but think that we were not exactly going to fit in with the athletically beautiful southern belles waiting for us on the other side of the large white door.

  On the first week of my stay here (rush week), we had been pinned—in the badge-wearing sense—by an overeager brunette, weeks of selections had passed, and we were told to attend tonight for official initiation.

  Lexi saw this as a divine message from her cheerleading-loving almighty God.

  I saw it as cruel and unusual punishment.

  Cass stood before us and asked, “What’s up, bitches? Are we headin’ to this jig or what? I wanna see what prime beef is on offer. Mamma’s taco needs a good ol’ fillin’.” And she slapped her crotch to exaggerate her point.

  When I arrived a month ago, I was immediately housed in a university apartment on campus, and the only room available was with these two girls. I instantly loved them—no airs, graces, and completely proud of their identities. They took me under their southern wings and we immediately bonded. However—on introduction to these fine ladies—I did not realise that this ‘all for one, one for all’ motto we’d adopted would land me in Wal-Mart value zero-count cotton, all to help my emo pageant queen friend achieve her pom-pom fantasy.

  I’d gone from a life of solitude, eighteen-hour library sessions, and snooty silver service dinners at Oxford, to being dressed in a sheet that was meant to resemble the fashions of ancient Rome.

  It didn’t.

  Not even close.

  Cass pulled a hip flask of moonshine from some hidden crevice in her snug-fitting toga and took a long swig. “Woo! Feel the burn, honey!” she sang, dipping back and slapping her chunky thigh. She ran her tongue over her teeth, licking off any last drops, and passed the flask first to Lexi, who, after she swallowed, danced around on the spot, squealing and shaking her arms, and then handed it to me. I took a tentative, tiny sip and felt my eyes fall out of their sockets.

  “Ohmigosh, Cass! How can you drink that?” I spat while running my hands along my throat, trying to soothe the burn. Cass had transformed a section of her bathroom into a moonshine distillery. She loved the stuff.

  “Are you kidding me? It’s like drinking Momma’s milk, and I love the buzzzzzz…” She elongated the word and acted as though electricity were zapping across her skin, then took her chewing tobacco from her hidden purse and stuffed it in her bottom lip.

  I rolled my eyes at her antics and handed back the flask. With linked arms, we headed into the fiery pits of hell.

  * * *

  The foyer of the Delta Epsilon Nu Omega… Beta… Pi… Kappa—who gives a shit?—was massive. A large oak staircase dominated the entrance of the imposing redbrick mansion and the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling looked as though they belonged in the palace of Versailles.

  We were immediately ushered like cattle into a sprawling back room by the sorority sisters. The pledges were buzzing with excitement on hearing that we would soon meet the elusive president. It amazed me how one person could cause such a frenzy.

  The sorority sisters told us to be quiet, and with a dramatic drum roll, courtesy of a sister tapping her hands on a table, the president swept through a set of double doors with serious dramatic flair to set the night in motion.

  I instantly tensed. It was Shelly, massively dolled up and sporting a very tight, short yellow dress.

  “Welcome pledges. You’re all here tonight to attend the final initiation of this respected and first-class sorority. All in this room will find yourself part of a tight sisterhood and a family while you are here at college and f
or the rest of your life.” She began pacing in front of the crowd. “Tonight is about having fun. But before the party starts, we’ve decided to give you one little task… to prove just how much you wanna be here.”

  Foreboding filled my stomach at the smug grin on her face.

  “The task is really quick and easy,” she stated as she drew to a stop beside a table covered in a black sheet. With a giggle, she tossed the sheet back, revealing the surprise underneath—lines and lines of blindfolds.

  Shelly strutted before each and every one of us, her beady eyes assessing each of her victims, and they tightened somewhat when they landed on me. “My, Molly. What’s this? I thought you didn’t find this kinda thing fun? Hmm? Maybe you think joining a sorority helps you better understand the human condition, huh?”

  I closed my eyes and breathed in slowly through my nose, ignoring the questioning looks from Cass and Lexi.

  I seriously disliked that girl.

  With a smug smile and a chimed laugh, Shelly continued. “For the initiation task, we will be using brothers from our linked fraternity. You will be blindfolded and will have to kiss—with tongues—a fellow Greek brother and guess the food they’ve just eaten. It’s not a lot to show your commitment, and we will all get a great laugh from it.” She tossed her shampoo advert-worthy hair to the rest of the sorority sisters, who all giggled in response.

  Bugger.

  I didn’t like the sound of this.

  I grabbed Lexi’s arm and leaned in close. “I thought you said hazing wasn’t allowed anymore due to some recent scandal or something? Look at those blindfolds. This is going cause us all to be completely humiliated—that certifies as friggin’ hazing! I can’t do this, Lexi. I’m way out of my depth here.”

  Lexi hit me with her black-rimmed puppy-dog eyes. “Please, Molls. For me? It’s not exactly bad hazing; it’s just a kiss with a guy, for God’s sake!”

  I dropped my head and groaned. There was no use fighting her. She’d only cry on me again, giving me a guilt trip. “You totally owe me one!”

  “Walk to the table and take a blindfold. We’ll put you in a line and the guys will be brought in,” Shelly sang, thoroughly enjoying herself at our expense.