Read Online Near & Far by Nicole Williams - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Nicole Williams
Ads: Link
tap practically stopped me.
The ride to school only took about ten minutes, but on mornings like that, when the sky seemed to release a month’s worth of rain in an hour, the ride felt a lot longer. Most days I was able to ignore the constant drizzle. No one complained about all the lush greenery, so I’d never understood why they threw such a fit about the rain that made it so green. Nothing beautiful had gotten that way without a little ugliness taking place behind the scenes.
When I pulled up to the art building, I don’t think a single part of me was dry—my underwear included—but that didn’t stop me from racing inside once I’d locked up my bike. I was so drenched, I sloshed—I actually sloshed— toward my first class. I don’t think a single head didn’t turn when I sloshed by. Most days, I didn’t envy the kids who drove to school. That wasn’t one of those days.
Art History of the Renaissance was my first class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Most history classes in high school had put me to sleep, but art history was totally different. It was a good-sized class, but the professor knew every one of our first names. As the T.A., Jax was available for regular study groups and test cram sessions.
I knew I was a few minutes late and prayed Professor Murray wouldn’t issue his standard quip of Nice of you to join us, Mr. or Mrs. such-and-such before I scurried into a seat. When I eased the door open and took a tentative step inside, it looked like I was off the hook. No Professor Murray in one of his crazy bow-ties. Not one of the hundred students hunched into their seats. No one except for me . . . and someone who was neither a student nor a professor.
After Saturday night, he was someone I was not looking forward to seeing quite yet.
“Didn’t you get the email?” Jax called to me from his desk. It looked like he was grading papers.
“What email? The one about you being an asshole?” Yeah, I was definitely not over it yet. “Because I definitely got that one.”
He gave me that smug grin of his. “Haven’t you heard? Everyone’s gotten that email. But I was referring to the one about Professor Murray canceling class due to having a bad case of the flu.”
“Well, I hadn’t experienced your asshole ways up until Saturday night. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, and I now see the error of my ways.” Those probably weren’t wise words to aim at the man responsible for grading plenty of my papers, but I didn’t care. If my G.P.A. took a dip, so be it. Telling him off was worth it.
“I am who I am. I make no excuses. I make no apologies.” Jax dropped his pen and rose from his seat. An expression I wasn’t used to seeing on his face settled into place before he sighed. “I don’t make apologies save for one exception.”
I waited a minute for him to expound on that “one exception” thing, but my patience ran out. “I’m on pins and needles, Jax.”
His eyes lifted to mine. A classroom separated us, but the look in them made me squirm. Too much intensity. “You. You’re the one exception.”
Those words did little to reassure me I was just misinterpreting his expression. “Do I want to know why?” I didn’t really think so.
He shrugged. “Because you gave me the benefit of the doubt. You’re the one exception because no one before you gave me that privilege.” That was a bit too . . . deep for a Monday morning. “I’m sorry, Rowen. I was an asshole the other night, and even though some would argue that’s my steady state, I try not to direct my asshole-ery your way.”
As apologies go, it was a pretty good one, but I was having a tough time not laughing. “‘Asshole-ery’?” I repeated, walking toward the front of the classroom. Well, sloshing toward the front of the classroom. “Where the hell did you pick up that gem?”
“The powers that be deemed asshole unfitting of someone of my level, so they created a whole new word just for me. Pretty
The ride to school only took about ten minutes, but on mornings like that, when the sky seemed to release a month’s worth of rain in an hour, the ride felt a lot longer. Most days I was able to ignore the constant drizzle. No one complained about all the lush greenery, so I’d never understood why they threw such a fit about the rain that made it so green. Nothing beautiful had gotten that way without a little ugliness taking place behind the scenes.
When I pulled up to the art building, I don’t think a single part of me was dry—my underwear included—but that didn’t stop me from racing inside once I’d locked up my bike. I was so drenched, I sloshed—I actually sloshed— toward my first class. I don’t think a single head didn’t turn when I sloshed by. Most days, I didn’t envy the kids who drove to school. That wasn’t one of those days.
Art History of the Renaissance was my first class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Most history classes in high school had put me to sleep, but art history was totally different. It was a good-sized class, but the professor knew every one of our first names. As the T.A., Jax was available for regular study groups and test cram sessions.
I knew I was a few minutes late and prayed Professor Murray wouldn’t issue his standard quip of Nice of you to join us, Mr. or Mrs. such-and-such before I scurried into a seat. When I eased the door open and took a tentative step inside, it looked like I was off the hook. No Professor Murray in one of his crazy bow-ties. Not one of the hundred students hunched into their seats. No one except for me . . . and someone who was neither a student nor a professor.
After Saturday night, he was someone I was not looking forward to seeing quite yet.
“Didn’t you get the email?” Jax called to me from his desk. It looked like he was grading papers.
“What email? The one about you being an asshole?” Yeah, I was definitely not over it yet. “Because I definitely got that one.”
He gave me that smug grin of his. “Haven’t you heard? Everyone’s gotten that email. But I was referring to the one about Professor Murray canceling class due to having a bad case of the flu.”
“Well, I hadn’t experienced your asshole ways up until Saturday night. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, and I now see the error of my ways.” Those probably weren’t wise words to aim at the man responsible for grading plenty of my papers, but I didn’t care. If my G.P.A. took a dip, so be it. Telling him off was worth it.
“I am who I am. I make no excuses. I make no apologies.” Jax dropped his pen and rose from his seat. An expression I wasn’t used to seeing on his face settled into place before he sighed. “I don’t make apologies save for one exception.”
I waited a minute for him to expound on that “one exception” thing, but my patience ran out. “I’m on pins and needles, Jax.”
His eyes lifted to mine. A classroom separated us, but the look in them made me squirm. Too much intensity. “You. You’re the one exception.”
Those words did little to reassure me I was just misinterpreting his expression. “Do I want to know why?” I didn’t really think so.
He shrugged. “Because you gave me the benefit of the doubt. You’re the one exception because no one before you gave me that privilege.” That was a bit too . . . deep for a Monday morning. “I’m sorry, Rowen. I was an asshole the other night, and even though some would argue that’s my steady state, I try not to direct my asshole-ery your way.”
As apologies go, it was a pretty good one, but I was having a tough time not laughing. “‘Asshole-ery’?” I repeated, walking toward the front of the classroom. Well, sloshing toward the front of the classroom. “Where the hell did you pick up that gem?”
“The powers that be deemed asshole unfitting of someone of my level, so they created a whole new word just for me. Pretty
Similar Books
