Over the next week, Justin helped with my history paper and tutored me in Biology. We stood together scanning the grade board outside the professor’s office. My student number was three spots from the top.
“Third highest test grade in the class! Nice Em!” he said, squeezing me. His eyes were bright with excitement and pride, and an awkward feeling made me take a step back.
“Thanks, Justin. Couldn’t have done it without you,” I say, pulling on his t-shirt.
He tosses me over his shoulder in one swift movement, making his way through the thick crowd behind us. “Make way! Move it, people! Let’s make some room for this poor women’s hideously disfigured, ginormous brain! She’s a fucking genius!”
I giggle at the amused and curious expressions plastered on all of my classmates face.
As the days went by, we fielded the persistent rumors about a relationship. Justin’s reputation helped to quiet the gossip. He had never been known to stay with one girl longer than a night, so the more times we were seen together, the more people understood our relationship that was strictly platonic. Even with the constant questions about our involvement, the stream of attention Justin received from his co-eds didn’t recede.
He continued to sit next to me in History and eat with me at lunch. It didn’t take long to realize I had been wrong about him. I soon found myself defensive toward those who didn’t know Justin the way I did.
In the cafeteria, Justin sets a can of orange juice in front of me.
“You didn’t have to do that. I was going to grab one,” I tell him, shrugging my jacket off my shoulders.
“Well, now you don’t have to,” he says, flashing the deep set dimple on his right cheek.
Logan snorts,. “Did she turn you into a cabana boy, Justin? What’s next, fanning her with a palm tree leaf, wearing a speedo?” he taunts.
Justin shoots him a glare, and boy if looks could kill Logan would be dead right now. “You couldn’t even fill a speedo Logan, Shut the hell up.”
“Easy Emilie, I was only kidding.” Logan says, holding his hands up in surrender.
“Just… don’t talk about him like that,” I tell him, frowning.
Justin’s expression was a mixture of surprise and gratitude.
“Now I’ve seen it all. I was just defended by a girl.” He says, standing up. Before he left with his tray, he offered one more warning glare to Logan, and then walked outside to stand with a small group of fellow smokers outside the building.
I try hard not to watch him while he’s out there talking and laughing but fail miserably. Every girl in the group subtly competes for the space next to him, and Cara shoves her elbow into my ribs when she notices my attention is elsewhere.
