"However," he began again once she had made it through the majority of the room, all that was left was my row, "I was impressed by a select few. Your grades will reflect the depth that your papers affected your reader and forced him to think. Grades were also impacted by sentence structure, grammar, paragraph composition, and overall composition. This is an advanced writing course, as this was a first look at your abilities I now know what you are capable of and I doubt I will be impressed again," he paused, a discreet grin pulling at those sinful lips as Thin Nose made her way up the rows towards me.
F.ucking dick.
"I guess it pays to be the class whore," she sneered before flinging a stapled stack of paper at me and sashaying away.
"You would know," I laughed, arching an eyebrow at her as she whipped around to glad at me.
"How dare you!"
"Oh, go suck a cock," I groaned, rolling my eyes before turning away from her and to the stack of paper she had found so offensive.
Darien Grace
Styles
CCW212
Why Dwell In The Past When You Can Live In The Present
Memories are just diluted and often embellished ideals from one's past. Rarely, if ever, are the thoughts and actions "remembered" the truth of the event. How is one supposed to diagnose their own problems and personal demons when the instances that shaped them into who they are cannot be recalled as they truly were? What is to stop a person from perceiving a harmless disagreement between their parents as the root for all of their personal nightmares? Or a singular bad grade as the reason they failed out of college? It is my belief that a person is not shaped directly by the events of their life but rather as they view them and allow them to impact their judgment and decisions...
I couldn't believe it. I couldn't f.ucking believe it. He'd stolen my paper.
"What the actual f.uck."
Darien Grace
This was a joke right? This had to be his form of a sick fucking joke. What the hell kind of pathetic dick felt the need to root through someone's personal files and then steal them. How the hell had he even gotten into my computer? When had be gotten into my computer? I could already feel the anger rolling off of me in swells large enough to swallow all of New Orleans; my own personal hurricane of rage. Hazel eyes blazed into me, analyzing my every breath. Christ, I wanted to tear down those aisles and remove any hope he ever had of creating tiny little Harry clones, but I couldn't. This was a test. He was trying me to see how far he could push me before I reached my breaking point.
He was good, I'd give him that, but I was better. I'd been traumatizing my "teachers" for longer than I cared to remember; it was one of the many wonderful things that made me Ren Grace. He wanted to go toe to toe with me? Fine.
Game on.
Sucking in a deep breath, I forced my face to relax, schooling my expression into cool indifference. His right brow quirked up ever so slightly, dark eyes hardening to forged steel. I grinned at him, slowly letting the sardonic smile creep across my face before shaking my head and pulling on my beats. I cranked the volume up until the world around me was filled with nothing but the symphonic tones and the chime of piano keys. I hadn't been able to enjoy my Piano Practicum class this morning, my entire body had been humming with heady anticipation of just being in the same room as the foreign Incubus. He was my siren song and all other melodies just seemed to pale in comparison.
Madame Dupond had fussed over me all morning and no matter how many times I assured her that I was in fact fine she wouldn't have it.
"Renee, qu'est ce qui ne va pas?" (Renee, what's the matter?) she asked, soft brown eyes watching me carefully before settling down onto the piano bench beside me.
"Nothing, Madame, I promise, ça va." (I'm well)
"Renne, do not lie to me. You are usually so pleine de vie et..." (vibrant and...) she paused as if searching for the right word, "enjouée! Où est passée cette fille si joyeuse?" (vivacious! Where is my cheerful girl?) She brought her hands up to join mine along the keys, carefully sounding out a simplistic French lullaby that she had forced us all to memorize the first week of class my Freshman year. She nodded at me to join in on the hypnotically soothing melody. I let out a small tired laugh before moving my fingers along the keys to the accompaniment.
This woman didn't even have to try. She could just look at me and all of my walls I'd spent years building would come tumbling down. She knew me better than anyone I'd ever met, possibly even better than Caleb and Jas. I didn't have to pretend with her. She didn't ask prying questions or expect me to hold the entire world on my shoulders. She just had this sixth sense that let her know when I needed some time to myself to breathe and to escape from all of the shit that filled my life.
"She's here, she's just... frustrated, and horny, and pretty damn exhausted." A light tinkering laugh filled the studio.
"There she is! Now, racontes." (explain)
"Have you ever been so drawn to someone that it physically hurts? Just being around them causes you pain because you're either too scared or too damn stubborn to do anything about it?"
"There was a time, ma chère, where I was much like yourself. You may not believe it seeing me now, but I was a very different person then than I am today. I was belle et jeune (beautiful and young). I could have the world, all I had to do was ask."
"I can see it," I laughed, branching off into an accompaniment that I had composed specifically for the lullaby. I'd been so inspired by the soft dream-like quality that I wanted to age it and rough it up around the edges. Madame Dupond's eyes widened at the new keys and the darker undertones they created, but a genuine smile pulled at her rose petal lips, her eyes crinkling elegantly around the corners. She was beautiful in a timeless sense, embracing all of the regal features that even Marie Antoinette would envy.
"I'm sure you were a real croqueuse d'hommes," (man-eater) I teased, enjoying the music filled atmosphere for the first time in weeks. She had to be magic, there was no other explanation.
"Well, I certainly enjoyed myself."
"Madame!"
"Don't play coy with me, Renee. On se ressemble beaucoup, toi et moi (We are very much alike, you and I). But, that was not my point. I did not come here to talk about my indiscretions. If this boy, it is a boy yes? I will not look at you any differently if it is not, ma chère."
"Oh bon sang! Non, mon Dieu non! C'est un garçon." (Oh goodness! No, my god no! It's a boy)
"Good, I am not well equipped with how to deal with those... urges," she shook her head and smiled, pink tinging her cheeks, "If this boy does not realize what is in front of him he will miss out on a truly amazing gift to the world."
"He's so infuriating, though! La moitié du temps j'ai envie de l'étrangler et l'autre moitié j'ai juste envie de lui arracher ses vêtements et l'attacher à mon lit!" (Half the time I want to strangle him and the other half I want to strip him naked and tie him to my bed!)
"You paint an interesting image, Renee," she chuckled, causing a slight heat to rise in my cheeks. I'd given one of my favorite professors a glimpse into my twisted sexual fantasies... Great.
"Your problem is l'orgueil (pride), both yours and his. you will both remain unsatisfied until you can put it behind you and be open with each other. Tu as un grand coeur, ma chérie. Il y'a bien assez de place pour lui à l'intérieur ." (You're heart is very big, darling. There is more than enough room for him inside.)
"Je ne parle pas d'amour (I'm not taking about love), Madame, I just need to get him out of my system."
"I said that about a man once too."
"What happened?"
"Je l'ai épousé," (I married him) she smiled, lifting one elegant hand bearing a simple gold band inset with pale rose colored sapphires.
"Honte à vous, ne jouez pas avec mo!" (Shame on you, don't tease me)
"Je ne plaisante pas, j'énonce simplement un fait (I'm not teasing, just stating a fact). It may seem confusing now, but if you were not truly interested in pursuing this man you would not be this torn up. Ne refuses pas toutes les possibilités, gardes l'esprit ouvert, Renee. Tu pourrais être surprise." (Do not deny all possibilities, keep your mind open, Renee, you may actually be surprised.)
Surprised? Yeah, I was surprised, alright. I never imagined him as the thieving type. Quiet? Yeah. Brooding? Sure. But thieving? All time low. It was taking everything in me to not go down there right now and chop his f.ucking dick off. Pride be damned. I was not going to be the one to fold first.
Even from behind closed lids, I could feel hard eyes following my every movement, his deep baritone still finding a way to break through the serenity of my Beats. I turned the volume up impossibly louder and struggled to drown out the rest of his "lecture".
Forty-five minutes later, I opened my eyes to an emptying lecture hall. The Dark Adonis stood behind his desk, casually stacking papers and replacing them in a rather feminine shoulder bag.
"Nice purse, I think Kim Kardashian has one just like it," I scoffed, taking my time to descend the rows.
"Always a pleasure to see you, Miss Grace, although I'm not entirely sure you were made aware of the next assignment. I do hope that you enjoyed your nap."
"You know, I would have, but there was this obnoxious droning in the background. Really, the speaker sounded so self-righteous it was hard to relax with the amount of bullshit being thrown at me."
"Well, I do apologise, I'm sure that it was never his intention to disturb your precious sleeping pattern."
"And I suppose you also have an apology from him about his exceptionally sticky fingers?"
He didn't even blink, completely unsurprised, "Would you have rather gotten an incomplete?"
"F.uck yes! I chose not to turn in my paper for a reason. You do realize that I could press charges and have your ass fired and deported before you could even blink, yeah? You crossed so many f.ucking lines! How dare you?"
"How dare I? You're the one that shackled me to your bloody bed and left me there—for hours! I did you a favour! You should be thanking me."
"God, you're so f.ucking twisted. Do they not teach you about respect and common privacy in New Zealand or where ever the fuck you're from?" I yelled, attempting the most ridiculous attempt at his accent I could muster, "You have to be the most ignorant son of a bitch I've ever met!"
"England, actually, and do you enjoy stereotyping and defaming an entire populous?"
"Does it piss you off?"
"Yes."
"Then yes, I quite enjoy it."
"Will you ever be respectful?"
"Will you ever get that stick out of you ass?"
"Miss Grace, you may not agree with the University's decision to place me in charge of this class. You may not particularly enjoy it but you will show me the respect I deserve."
"Like hell I will. You don't deserve shit. You're barely out of Abercrombie Kids."
"Is that the best you can do? Poor show, Miss Grace, I've come to expect more from you."
"I fink you assume too much," I sneered, fixing him with a pointed look, "You know nothing about me."
"On the contrary, I believe that I know a great deal more about you than you do yourself."
"Oh, dear Professor, please enlighten me."
"You're proud, crass, and crave attention—."
"Sweetheart, you're basically quoting every therapist I've ever been to. Try again—."
"But you're far more vulnerable than you lead others to believe-=."
"It's like I'm listening to a broken record. Bored now—." I feigned a yawn, readjusting my bag on my shoulder and turning to leave.
"You blame your father for your mother's death," his voice rang out loud throughout the entire hall, stopping me in my tracks, "You hate him for his alcohol addiction. You believe that if he'd spent more time at home and less time at the bar that he would have seen the signs, that he would have realized how sick she was—."
"Stop," I whispered, struggling to support all of the walls that I'd constructed. I wasn't the same girl who'd lost her mother when she was thirteen. I'd left that girl behind me years ago in Louisiana. I was better now. I was stronger.
"You're wrong though. She was suffering from Stage IV Breast Cancer. No matter how much money your father spent or how much treatment she received, it wouldn't have made a difference. You cannot prevent the inevitable, Miss Grace. At best, you can merely prolong it."
"Stop. Fermes ta putain de gueule! (Shut your damn mouth!) You know nothing about my mother. You have no idea what I went through, what she went through. Elle était ma mère. Je n'avais que 13 ans! Aucun enfant ne devrait jamais perdre sa mère! Mon père aurait pu faire quelque chose. Je sais qu'il aurait pu, mais il était bien trop égoïste pour poser sa putain de bouteille et désaouler. Il détestait rentrer à la maison et la voir dans son état! Elle ne tenait même pas debout quand il l'a enfin emmené au médecin! Elle n'a pas tenu une semaine!" (She was my mother. I was thirteen! No child should ever lose their mother. My father could have helped. I know that he could have but he was too goddamn selfish to put down a fucking bottle and sober up. He hated coming home and seeing how she was! She couldn't even stand by the time he finally took her to the doctor! She lasted a week!) Tears were threatening to stream down my cheeks and he stood there staring at me, mouth gaping open, flabbergasted.
"Don't you dare pretend that you know anything about me," I hissed. Still he made no move to respond, "Are you deaf now too? Dis quelque chose!" (Say something!)
"You speak French?"
"Mon Dieu!" (My God!) I shrieked, raking my fingers through my once expertly curled hair, "Je te déteste! Tu n'es qu'un salopard d'ignorant!" (I hate you! You're an ignorant bastard!)
"Wha-?"
"Je vais tuer Caleb," (I'm going to kill Caleb) I muttered, storming away, "Ce putain de gosse! Pour qui il se prend? Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!" (That fucking child. Who does he think he is? My god. My god!)
As I stormed out, I swore I could hear the sound of all of the synapses that had been firing in his brain suddenly stop functioning. He had no fucking clue what had just hit him. "Vas te faire foutre," (Go fuck yourself.) I called over my shoulder before slamming the door to the hall behind me.