You hated how he raised his hand in class. You hated how he grinned smugly whenever he answered a question right. You even hated how he perched in his desk, as if he was ready to pounce on whoever dared him.
Itâs obvious that he has to be the smartest in the room, and it drives you up the wall because youâre supposed to be the smartest in the room.
âRight again, Mr. Kirkland,â your professor says from the front of the classroom, a response to an answer Arthur had said. You drown him out the best you can. From the front row, you can feel her eye roll. You like to think that you arenât his only hater. In your fantasy, the whole class bands together and tar and feather him.
Your hand shoots up, like you know what was just said. Youâre flying off the seat of your ass. The professor nods at you, giving you the go ahead.
âPersonally, I think Arthur fails to consider other mindsets. His view is very Eurocentric, excluding other cultures. We have to consider everyone when we make statements like that, which could be hard for someone who fails to hold empathy for anyone different from them.â
From across the room, you can feel Arthurâs eyes boring into you. You can feel blisters forming from the heat of his glare, and you try not to send a small smile his way.
The professor blinks twice before looking at Arthur. She opens her mouth before closing it and clapping her hands. âI think that does it for todayâs discussion. Iâm going to dismiss class a little early today. Have a nice weekend, guys.â
You take your time packing up your things. Every folder is laid carefully in your satchel, a leather thing that an ex brought you from Spain. You look up to make sure everyone is gone before walking up the stairs of the lecture hall and out the door.
The hallways are filled with activity as college students go on about their day. You keep your head held high as you walk through them, parting the crowd like the Red Sea.
You turn the corner, and suddenly the hallway is empty. Without thinking, you proceed down the hallway before someone grabs the side of your jacket and pulls you into an empty classroom. You smack at whoever has pulled you into the dark, hands meeting a soft button-down.
"Hey, be quiet," a British voice meets your ears as someone grasps your shoulders. Suddenly you're blind with rage.
Arthur Kirkland stands in front of you. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his cheeks are red. You push against his chest, but he holds firm. "Let go of me," you seethe.
He lets go, but his hands hover over you. You can sense the same warmth of hatred coming off of him. It's nice to know that the feeling is mutual, or at least you think.
You stare at each other for a moment. The eye contact is intense. Finally, Arthur breaks the silence. "Why are you always trying to embarrass me in that class?"
It takes all you have not to roll your eyes in his face. You cross your arms and lean on one leg. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He scoffs and crosses his arms right back. You can't help but notice how the cotton of his shirt morphs against his body and rides up his forearms, revealing dark hair. You have to turn your head away quickly. "Get your head out of your ass. You're always trying to outdo me in there. Everyone is, quite frankly, tired of it."
Your mouth falls open. You close it quickly, snapping it shut. "No, what everyone is tired of is you raising your hand and talking out of your ass. Guess what! Not everyone wants to hear your opinion! Even our professor is tired of you!"
You can hear your voice rising, becoming shriller with every word. You won't back down, and it's looking like he won't either.
"I have things to contribute unlike you. Your main goal is to embarrass me. You're obsessed with me or something."
With that, you turn on your heel and throw his hand up in his face. "I don't have to sit here and take this. Keep embarrassing yourself in class and making people hate you."
Before you know what's going on, Arthur grabs your wrist. You whip your head around to tell him to go away in less kind words, but then he pulls you in and presses a hard kiss against your lips.
The kiss lasts seconds, minutes, hours. You can't help but get lost in it. You were once rigid, and now you're melting into him. He holds you against him, and when the kiss ends, you both stay there completely still.
Hesitantly, you back away. He's let go of your wrist, and you're free to leave. You can't help but stare at your feet, thinking about everything that just happened. Finally, you gather enough courage to look into his eyes. "Well, see you in class."
With the graceful last words, you go back into the hallway and practically run back to your dorm. Now, you can't get Arthur Kirkland off your mind for a very different reason.
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