Changing Tunes (6 page)

Continuing our conversation, I tease Mac, “Aren’t you the romantic.”

She looks a little sheepish, “Maybe a little, but I do believe it.”

“Do you really?”

We grab our drinks and Mac signals to a table. I make a point of smiling and throwing an extra sway in my step as we cross to it. We sit, sipping our hot drinks. Thoughtfully, Mac continues, “I believe there is someone out there for everyone; we all have ‘our someone’.”

“I’m not so sure,” I say, deep in thought myself. Her belief in this perfect person for everyone kind of throws me. I think about my past experiences and can’t imagine anyone ever loving me; wanting me for just me. I’m a mess. On the outside, I look perfectly put together, but on the inside, not so much.  On the inside I’m scared shitless. I’m scared of the future and of what my life holds, and what’s expected of me. The inside isn’t pretty at all; there’s really not much there for someone to love. 

Interrupting my thoughts Mac begins, “Just you wait, Ash. When you least expect it, someone is going to throw you into a tailspin and you won’t know what’s hit you. Someone is going to see just how fantastic you are, and maybe then, you will, too.” The last part she says quieter, but I hear her. Another point to Mac. She’s made me like her even more. My rule about not getting attached is quickly being broken.

I get ready for the first day of classes with mixed feelings. Angst, trepidation, and excitement, all jumbled together. I choose my outfit carefully; conscious I will make an impression today. First impressions are everything. I’m not sure why I actually care; I’ve never cared before. I’ve always been the hot girl with the best of everything in my wardrobe. I always knew I looked fabulous, and did my own thing, not caring what others thought—my own drumbeat, so to speak.

I decide on a pair of skinny jeans and a flowing, sheer peasant top with a pair of kick ass espadrilles that makes me look extra tall and my legs extra sexy. I throw a little curl into my hair instead of going stick straight, just to add a bit of volume. My head is all over the place, and I stop what I’m doing and stare into the mirror. Shit! I didn’t take this much time to get ready when we went to the fraternity party. This is just class, no big deal. I’m taking classes that I don’t even want to take, dammit. Why is my stomach in knots?

A knock on the door stops my meandering mind, and I open it to a smiling Mac. “What time’s your first class, Ash?”

Hearing her use the nickname she’s given me makes me happy. I honestly don’t ever want to hear her call me Ashley again. When she does, I’ll know she’s pissed at me.

“English class is up first at nine o’clock and then I’m free for a couple of hours. Yours?”

“Nine thirty. Want to meet for coffee afterwards?”

“Sounds good. You look excited. Aren’t you nervous at all?” I ask.

“I’m a little nervous,” she admits, “But more excited than anything.”

“Ugh, I’m glad one of us is.”

“Aw, come on, Ash, you look smokin’ hot.” She winks.

I begin brushing my hands down my sleeve, brushing away imaginary wrinkles.

She notices, “Wow, you are nervous.”

I look at her pointedly, “I wasn’t kidding. I’m not used to feeling this way. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Picture it like high school, but bigger. There’s still going to be all the different groups and the bitches. Don’t forget the bitches.” She laughs.

I don’t laugh. I used to be one of those bitches she’s referring to. Sometimes I still am, but I’m trying not to be. At least with Mac I’m trying.

Mac looks down at her watch, “Shit! You’d better hurry; you’re going to be late. You’ve got about fifteen minutes until your class begins.”

“Oh my God! I’ll text you after class.”

Thankfully, I packed my backpack last night. I grab it and toss it over my shoulder, hoping and praying I have everything I need. I snatch up my phone; glancing at it, I notice a new text, from my father, no less.

Warden: Don’t be late. Your first class is at 9:00. Don’t disappoint me.

Lovely. Way to start my morning off right.

I sigh and dash out. You know how when you’re in such a hurry, you zone out? That’s me. I don’t even remember my rush to the building. I just know I made it to class with literally two minutes to spare.

I slow my approach, not wanting to draw any attention to myself. I can almost hear Miranda saying, “Yeah right, you love the attention, admit it.”

Once upon a time, that was true. Not now. Now, I’m just trying to blend in. Trying to be better and do better.

I open the door to the room, rushing in faster than I’d intended. Heads turn my way at the flurry of activity, but I don’t show any embarrassment. I have way too much practice keeping a cool look on the exterior. I glance around, looking for a seat and spot one in the middle of the room, quickly making my way over to it; aware of the appreciative looks aimed my way. I smile, making sure to make eye contact to as many of them as possible, clearly showing how confident I am. Little do they know, it’s all for show.

I sit down, face forward, and finally notice the professor sitting at his desk. He’s
wow
, to say the least. No, more like yummy, something definitely worth devouring. The moment our eyes meet, he winks at me. I’m taken aback. I know this can’t be normal, but I dismiss it. It’s not the first time I’ve been noticed by an older man, after all. He’s tall and blond with broad shoulders. Completely different than what I was expecting for a professor. I was thinking more like bald, boring and obese. You know, like the ones you usually see in the movies. I know, stereotypes, so shoot me.

I open my backpack, pull out my notepad and pencil, and prepare myself for the most boring lecture known to man. After getting settled, I carefully, cool as a cucumber, look around a little to see what kind of ‘blood’ I’ve got in class with me.
Hhhmmm, maybe this isn’t so bad after all. It’s been a couple of days.
Some habits are harder to break than others, I realize, as I take in all the good-looking guys around me. Several girls are glancing straight ahead, dreamily, not paying attention to anything but the professor. I can’t help but shake my head.

Snapping me from my survey of the class the professor begins to speak. “Welcome to my English class, I am Professor Forrester, and you have the pleasure of having me as your teacher for the semester.” Several girls, and I do mean several, giggle at his statement and I actually feel sorry for them. Give me a break. Yeah, he’s hot, no doubt. And maybe, just maybe, I may have gone there in the past, but not now. Not to say he wouldn’t be a lot of fun; he sure looks like he could be.

“Here is the class syllabus. Read it and remember it well. There will be several projects in my class throughout the semester.” I hear a collective groan, mostly consisting of deep voices, which makes me chuckle out loud.

Shit, didn’t mean to do that.

Unfortunately, my outburst garners me some attention I sure as hell didn’t want.

“Miss?” Professor Forrester raises an eyebrow at me, clearly expecting me to give him my name.  I fight the urge to slink into my chair as much as possible. I refuse to slink.

“Davis, Ashley Davis” I say confidently, sitting even straighter in my seat.

I won’t back down.

“Would you like to share with everyone what you find so amusing?” He’s being a bit of a smartass, but there is also an obvious sparkle in his eyes as he looks at me. It’s a little disarming.

“I was just thinking how excited I am about all of the projects you have for us.”

“Is that so?” he responds, smiling at me. 

What the fuck? Give it back to him…

I look directly into his eyes and match him, stare for stare. “Yes sir, I’m really looking forward to them.”

He chuckles,
he fucking chuckles
, “Well, Miss Davis, since you seem to be so excited about this class, how about you pass out the syllabus to everyone.”

“No problem,” I say looking directly at him once again. I’m not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me falter. I get up and walk over to him, and I see his eyes roam over me appreciatively. I don’t let him see I notice, though. I take the syllabus from him and begin to pass them out with every ounce of coolness I possess. I count how many are in each row, passing the small pile to the first person of each row. “Take one and pass it down, please,” I ask nicely.

I receive nasty looks from several girls in the class.

As if I asked for this.

It seems I’ve also garnered a little attention from some of the male population. I pretend I don’t notice. This isn’t the time, or place, for flirting. I’ve already got enough attention directed at me.

I finish and sit back down in my seat.

“Thank you, Miss. Davis.” He says with a knowing smile.

I’m dismissed, and he continues on to his first lecture of a class that now smells of trouble for me.

I try to concentrate on the class, but my mind replays, over and over, the events of the last thirty minutes. My very epic first day of class.

Shit! Not how I wanted my first day to go.

This was supposed to go easier. I wasn’t supposed to make enemies with the girls now openly shooting daggers at me. I swear I can feel them. Of course, I’m no stranger to daggers.

Fortunately, I’m finally able to focus my attention and get drawn into everything Professor Forrester says. He’s not boring; very animated, in fact, and seems to love the attention from the female members of the class. He’d be blind not to see it. Thankfully, time passes quickly and before I know it, class is over.

As I gather up my belongings and head to the door I hear, “Miss Davis.” I stop, dead in my tracks, and turn slowly around. “I look forward to having you in my class.” He smirks.

I turn back around and leave without responding. As I walk through the door, I hear, “Teacher’s pet.”

I don’t turn or respond, I just keep walking, knowing I’m meeting Mac, and just need to get the hell out of dodge.