Life of the Party {A One Direction Fan Fiction}

Chapter 14

I walked out the door and to Connor's dingy old car and started the ignition before peeling off down the street.

"I hope that cleared everything up. Please turn your paper in tomorrow for full credit. Delia, may I have a word?" my professor said as the class ended.

I walked up to his desk. "Is something wrong?"

"No," he smiled. "Something is very, very right."

I raised an eyebrow as I adjusted my bag on my shoulder.

"I looked at your paper while the class was copying the notes. You're the only one who turned it in today and I must say Delia, it's exemplary," he beamed in pride. We'd only been in class a few weeks, how had I made such a good impression already? "You're the only one who really understood the assignment and got it in when it was supposed to have been due."

"Well thank you," I said. "I had a lot of help from a friend of mine. He basically helped me understand everything."

"Still the written portion is outstanding. The language you used was academically good, you used advanced vocabulary, but I loved how you added an edge to your writing," he said.

"An edge?" I questioned. I hadn't thought I had tried to make my writing reflect my style.

"Yes an edge. Just listen to this sentence you wrote, ''It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.' Can you really be living the paradise life but have your world crumpling around out like a piece of paper all at the same time? If you're living your dream, can it really be like the apocalypse is happening?' You continue the modern speak through the entire piece, but you didn't make it like you were emailing a friend either. You used evidence to back up everything you said and your vocabulary is outstanding. A+ work."

"Thank you sir," I smiled. "Really though I had a lot of-what are you doing?" I asked stepping away from him quickly.

His hand had been resting on the edge of his desk and as I had shifted my weight, he had grazed my thigh. But this wasn't a brush and pull away, this was more of a stroking, like I was his play toy and not his student of one hour.

"Delia you can't deny that you're beautiful," he said standing up. I stepped back quickly, farther away from him.

"I never said I wasn't," I replied. "But I do have an issue when my professor starts hitting on me and touching me like I'm not his student."

"Delia you're not a normal girl," he said. "You have an edge to your look, to your attitude. It's a nice edge. And let's not look over the fact you are physically attractive."

"Right so that's all I am," I said. "I'm just a pretty face with a bad attitude and you think it's OK to be all over me? I'm not a skank. I don't sleep around and I certainly don't sleep with my professor who is at least 30 years older than me. Good day sir," I said hitching my bag farther on my shoulder and quickly walking out of the room.

I walked with my back straight, shoulders back, chin up to the bathroom and locked myself in a stall. I wanted to break down so bad right now, but I wouldn't let myself.

I sat on the toilet, head in my hands and replayed the meeting with my professor over and over again. He'd basically told me I didn't have anything but my looks. His flattery about my writing was just to get me to trust him. All he wanted was a student play toy.

I took a deep breath before I left the bathroom. My next class was in an hour so I went to the coffee shop and sat at a table. I just sat there, sipping coffee, watching people filter in and out as I sat, thinking about what was happening to me.