1. Professor McKenney Will Not Be Able To Instruct This Semester's Course

Start from the beginning

"I didn't know that you had a teaching assistant, Pops," I mused, a bit of my earlier anger leaking into my voice. I watched as realization hit both of the McKenneys. Caleb grimaced, but Jas just grinned. That bitch. She knew something.

"Dari, don't you have a class to get to?" The all too calm tone of her voice set me on edge. I couldn't tell if she was leading me away from or directly into the danger zone and I didn't trust her for a goddamn minute.

I narrowed my eyes at my best friend; her pale gray irises widening in response.

"Don't frown at me. Your face will get stuck that way and you'll always look like someone pissed in your cheerios," She sighed, leading me toward the front door.

"It's called resting bitch face and I quite like it."

"Flies and vinegar honey, flies and vinegar. Remember that for later," she winked at me, flashing me her signature 'I definitely know something, but you're going to just have to fucking wait and find out what' grin.

Rolling my eyes, I shifted my Alexander McQueen tote. I'd forgotten to take out the stacks of sheet music the Madame had lent me for 'inspiration'. She'd called me into her office yesterday and asked me if I could compose an original piece for the University's Christmas Gala at the end of the semester. I knew that the Gala was a big fucking deal, Caleb and his partner John had dragged us to it for three years now. It was a major fundraising event for the Art and English programs, which translated into a hell of a lot of pointless ass kissing for a couple lousy grants from the State. This was the first year I'd been asked to perform though, and the head officials from most of the major music industries in the country would be there. It was kind of a big deal and I kind of had to say yes if I wanted any future in the industry what-so-ever.

"Hey, Ren?" I turned, irritated. I was already making my way down the steps that led to the McKenney's townhouse. We were maybe a block from the main campus. Jas and I had signed a lease to an apartment on campus, but we were hardly ever there. There was just something about edible food and consistently hot showers at the McKenney house that just couldn't be denied...

"Try not to lay him across his desk, okay?" Her voice carried past me and across the entire street. The sidewalk was congested- the morning foot traffic at an all-time high with students rushing to classes and business professionals hauling ass to whatever meeting they were late to. My jaw locked up as everyone within earshot turned to look at me. Flashing Jas a tight lipped smile, I turned on my heel, throwing a one fingered salute up into the air behind me. There was no way in hell I was going anywhere near a scrawny, overly-caffeinated English nerd. I had standards.


Four hours later, I was stomping across the quad, Beats on, Beethoven's 5th filling the world around me. The concise and dark undertones greatly fitting to the mood I was in. My morning classes had been disasterous. I hadn't been able to focus at all, my full attention focused on getting to ENG345 and kicking Mr. Styles the fuck out. There was no may in hell he'd last longer than a week; I'd make sure of that.

I was on a warpath as I stalked into Hult 508, the doors slamming behind me. The hall was slowly filling, the back rows completely occupied.

"You, move," I snapped at a particularly mousy looking brunette, pulling my Beats down to rest around my neck, strains of violins drifting up towards me. She'd sat in the outer seat in the last possible row. I'd been taking Caleb's courses for almost three years now in this exact lecture hall. This room was his and that seat was mine. It was common law for the entirety of the English department. Hell, most of the fucking campus knew.

"There are plenty of seats up there," she sniffed, pointing to the lower levels with her thin nose.

"Yeah, so go sit in one," I challenged, smiling sweetly down at her, aquamarine eyes flashing dangerously.

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