Sweet Rome
Page 19

 Tillie Cole

  • Background:
  • Text Font:
  • Text Size:
  • Line Height:
  • Line Break Height:
  • Frame:
“Hell, Rome! Slow down!” Ally said, running to meet my quick strides. “What the hell you in a rush for?”
“Nothing. Just don’t want to be late.”
Her hand gripped my elbow, pulling me to a stop, brown eyes huge. “Since when?” she asked with a disbelieving laugh.
“Since when, what?” I tried to evade her questioning. She was too f**king nosey for her own damn good.
“You! Why’re you so concerned with class all of a sudden? You’re not exactly student of the year.”
“Let’s go or I’ll leave your ass behind.” I started walking again, and she let out a huge gasp from behind.
Turning, I groaned in exasperation. “What now?”
Her lips pouted and then she broke out into a smile. “I’m on to you.”
Ignoring her, I made my way to the class. As we headed through the door, Ally was still chuckling beside me—which only served to piss me off more—and I immediately checked out Molly’s TA desk, feeling instantly disappointed when she wasn’t there. As hard as it was to admit to myself, I’d missed seeing her all week. Was sick of her image in my damn head, preventing me from sleeping, and thought it was about damn time I viewed her in the flesh again.
“Aww, Rome, would you look at that? No Molly,” Ally lilted as she climbed the stairs. I was used to her trying to rile me up, like a little, annoying sister would, but this time, she was really getting to me.
Someone entered the room, and I caught a look at them from the corner of my eye. It was Molly, head down, dressed in jean shorts, a tight white tee, and a white version of those f**king horrendous shoes. She skirted past me to her desk, not even acknowledging me.
That pissed me off.
“Shakespeare,” I greeted, trying to get her attention. But still nothing. She was completely ignoring me and it wasn’t sitting well, my good mood now completely gone.
I made my way up the stairs to my seat next to Ally, trying to pay no attention to Shelly, who, as always, began batting her eyelashes in my direction.
Shaking my head, I questioned why she was being so f**king stupid? I couldn’t believe she would keep up the fake flirtations after the mindfuck that was our last meeting.
I sat in my seat, wondering why Molly was being so weird, when she strode up to the lectern, face tight, tapping the small microphone, the echoey dull thuds attracting everyone’s attention.
“Hey, everyone. Professor Ross asked me to lead today’s seminar on the introduction to utilitarianism, and in the coming sessions, I will be giving brief notes on the main arguments before exploring some examples for discussion.”
There was that confidence again, almost arrogance when it came to her subject, and she moved from the lectern, dropping her notes, her tight ass flexing under those shorts. I shifted as my c**k grew hard. She licked her lips, adjusting her glasses, and I struggled not to groan out loud at the sight.
“In simple terms, the idea of utilitarianism is the theory that actions of an individual are based on the fact that we, as humans, actively seek pleasure when making decisions. Therefore, this argument is seen as the hedonistic approach to ethics—we do things to feel good, are driven by the quest for pleasure. Jeremy Bentham proposed that humans operate on a pleasure-pain principle, i.e. that we seek pleasure and avoid pain at all costs.”
She never once looked my way as she spoke. The class was small and she met every pair of eyes in the room except mine. It got to me… really f**king got to me.
“Bentham believed that this principle could be adapted to society as a whole and that it would function better if it operated on a system that considered the greatest good for the greatest amount of people. This is evident in many sectors of society, but a good example is the way we vote in a democracy. The majority vote benefits most people. Therefore, the majority of people in that society are happy, i.e. feel pleasure at the outcome, creating a more utilized society.”
After minutes of still getting nothing, not even a glimpse, I decided it was time to cut the shit and make her acknowledge me. What Shakespeare didn’t know was that I had a firm grasp of this topic. And I’d use it to show her I didn’t like to be ignored.
I waited until she paused in her lecture and let out a dramatic cough, edging forward in my seat and pretending to listen intently, purposely being obnoxious. Her eyes darted to mine and they narrowed. Perfect. I’d started to piss her off too.
“Where was I?” she said out loud, subtly glaring in my direction in admonishment. “Oh, yes. Today we will be discussing the concept of the pleasure-pain principle and whether humans really do function this way. I, for one, tend to agree in the most part with this theory—”
“Really?” I blurted, stopping her mid-flow. My classmates gaped at me from their seats. Yeah, I never participated in class. Hell, most of these people probably hadn’t heard me say anything in nearly four years of sitting in this room. I knew I had the reputation of a dumb jock, and what did I care? Let the f**kers believe what they wanted. I was going to speak today, though, and it was all because I wanted a certain girl’s attention.
Molly had stopped still, the pulse in her neck beating furiously under her exposed skin. “Pardon?”
There it was, that fire, that spark she kept so well hidden. Taking my pencil, I rolled it in my fingers as if I didn’t give a shit and, by the look on face, succeeding in riling her up.
“I was expressing my surprise that you agree with Bentham, for the most part,” I said, exaggerating the last four words.