Sweet Home

by Tillie Cole

  “Like you, Mol…? A girl like you?”

  “You don’t even know me,” I whispered, wide-eyed, as he unconsciously drifted towards me.

  His hand lifted and his index finger ghosted down my cheek, causing me to tremble. “It only took Romeo one look at Juliet and his fate was sealed. Maybe I’m just like my namesake, and maybe you’re just like yours.”

  His hand dropped to my knee and skirted up my bare thigh, that pink tongue of his running along his bottom lip. If we both leaned in just… that… little bit… closer… we… could… almost—

  Ally’s doorknob began to shake and a high-pitched shrieking interrupted our moment. “Rome? Rome? Open up! I know you’re in there!”

  Shelly. Again.

  “Fuck!” Romeo shouted, standing to slam his empty beer into the bin.

  I stood abruptly, anger racing through my veins at the interruption. “That girl!” I shrilled, and I had to hold the balcony rail while I calmed down.

  With rapt attention, Rome watched me and my reaction from the other side of the balcony. He clenched his fists as we stared at one another in overt want.

  “I’m going to go, Rome,” I said softly, closing my eyes to steady my composure.

  Romeo stood opposite, just watching me silently. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking and his lack of response infuriated me.

  “I’ll leave you with her. It’s probably for the best,” I said more assertively this time.

  He sighed, both hands dropping to rest on the back of his neck. “Mol—”

  He stopped whatever he was going to say and I took that as my cue to go.

  So much for Romeo wanting sodding Juliet!

  When I walked past, he clutched my hand, jerking me back to his chest. I slammed against his muscles with force, the contact robbing me of my breath.

  Romeo tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “I liked talkin’ to you, Shakespeare. It was different…” He looked as bewildered as I felt, the gap between his eyebrows puckering together as he gripped the side of my toga, pulling me flush against his hard body.

  I sighed. “You too, Romeo. But our little conversation seems to have come to an end. I imagine it’s probably for the best anyhow.”

  I released my arms from his grip and opened the door with reluctance. Shelly came drunkenly crashing through, completely ignoring me stood to the side, and jumped sloppily into Rome’s arms, wrapping her legs around his waist.

  “I want you, Rome. Fuck me, right here, right now.”

  I balked. Shelly smacked her lips to his and began grinding her hips against his crotch. Romeo grunted in surprise, grasping her arms.

  I stilled for what seemed like an eternity and, filled with a white-hot rage, left them to it. I was so angry. To be all flirty like that with me, then set to screwing a girl practically in front of my eyes. I guessed the womaniser reputation was deserved after all. I should’ve known better than to foolishly think I felt such a strange instant connection to someone like that. Cass and Lexi warned me, and I was a fool to have let my guard down… even though it had felt so right with him.

  I made my way back to my girlfriends and slumped down on the wooden bench, noticing that Cass was snuggled into the arms of the super-large guy from earlier.

  “And who is this pretty lil’ lady? Y’all got a hot woman tree ‘round here somewhere that I don’t know ‘bout?” he asked, dramatically looking around, making me laugh and pulling me from my stormy mood.

  “I’m Molly. You?” I instantly liked him: big, cuddly, with bright rosy cheeks.

  “I’m Jimmy-Don Smith, darlin’. Mighty nice to make your acquaintance.” He tipped his cowboy hat and turned to kiss a giggling Cass on her neck.

  Ally pulled me beside her. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “With Rome in your room. He used the spare key.”

  She slapped her hand on mine, her eyes widened, and a brilliant white smile lit her face. “And?”

  “Calm down! Nothing happened. We just talked, had a couple of beers,” I answered hurriedly, shushing her.

  “Did he kiss you again?” She was practically bouncing in her seat.

  I shook my head with incredulity. “No. He only kissed me for the initiation, Ally.”

  “I don’t think so—”

  I held up my hand, cutting her off. “Shelly found him in your room. They’re in there now. You may want to change your sheets later by the look of things when I left.”

  She dropped her head to the table. “What?! Why would he go there again after all these years? I thought…” She gave me a quick side-glance.

  “What? You thought what?”

  She studied me, biting her lip in contemplation, and then just shook her head. “Nothing, I was obviously mistaken.”

  I looked away and saw Lexi showing some girl a backwards tumble.

  “You want another drink?” Ally asked, exhaling a disappointed sigh.

  “Sure,” I replied. I may as well enjoy the night and try not to think about the Prince of Alabama banging Miss Cheer Almighty in my new friend’s sumptuous red bedroom.

  4

  “Just be clear and concise, talk from your diaphragm not from your throat, oh, and take deep breaths. You know the topic well, so you’ll be just fine.”

  I nodded as Professor Ross briefed me on the seminar I was about to lead. She’d been busy with her research on The Design Argument for the academic journal she was writing, so she asked me to lead today’s discussion group.

  “Now, if I’m not mistaken, the football team is still away, so you should only have maybe thirteen or fourteen in the class.”

  I stretched my back, eliminating any clicks. “Okay. I think I’m ready.” I shuffled my notes into a pile before me and secretly watched students begin filing into the seminar room across the hall from the professor’s office.

  Suzy stood beside me, amused at my antics. “So I hear you have moved house?”

  “Yeah. We joined a sorority so Cass, Lexi, and I have been given a room there.”

  She put her arm on my shoulder. “Good for you, Molly. What does it look like? Nice?”

  I let out a single laugh. “More like amazing. It’s huge—massive bed, bright white walls and it has a balcony… a flippin’ balcony!”

  “Ha, really? Makes a change from the Oxford halls of residence, then!”

  “Erm… just a bit.” I turned to face her. “Do you remember a couple of years ago when you took the class to tour Italy?”

  Suzy nodded enthusiastically. “Mm-hmm.”

  “Well, my balcony looks just like the one in Verona that we visited, weirdly just like the one at Juliet’s house. I can’t believe people actually live like this in college! It’s absolute madness. But I’m now officially on a tight budget that’s for sure.”

  Suzy laughed, placing her frail hands on my shoulders. “Enjoy it, my girl. You deserve it.”

  I walked to the air-conditioner and turned it up a notch before I melted. The small office felt like an oven. The weather was still burning a hole in the ground, and therefore, I was wearing short denim shorts and a white capped-sleeved linen top. I’d even changed from my favourite orange Crocs to a white pair just to compliment the overall look, and maybe also to piss off Shelly just a bit with my apparent quirky fashion sense. My hair, as usual, was up in a messy high bun and my glasses were firmly in place.

  I checked the seminar room once more and it wasn’t long before the seats were almost full. Shelly went in with her entourage of bimbos and surprisingly, Rome followed a second behind the group, chatting to Ally. I inwardly cursed—the team must’ve returned. As if leading a seminar wasn’t daunting enough, dealing with my pent-up Romeo issues would severely affect my nerves.

  I watched through the crack in the office door as he entered the room and his eyes immediately sought out my TA desk at the front. Seeing that it was empty, his shoulders sagged and his head bowed. That only seemed to infuriate me. Why look sad about my absence when the girl he’d sn
ubbed me for sat on the back row, eagerly anticipating his arrival and attention? I told myself to focus on the lecture, ignore that he was here.

  Clutching my notes, I stepped out of the professor’s office into the classroom, and Rome swung his head my way at the movement. He was wearing his standard jeans and a black sleeveless T-shirt, his hair the same sexily tousled style as usual, and a quiet smile broke onto his face as he realised it was me.

  He passed by and tipped his chin, acknowledging me with a brief, “Shakespeare,” then climbed the stairs to take his usual seat. Shelly tried to take his hand, but he pulled it free from her grasp with a hard stare, and she crossed her arms, pouting. I smirked a little at that but pulled myself together as Professor Ross entered the room and with a wave of her hand, encouraged me to begin.

  I stepped up to the lectern and took a deep breath. “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.” I walked to the side desk, placing my notes down. I knew this argument like the back of my hand.

  “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.”

  I surveyed the students to make sure they were paying attention. So far so good. “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 utilised society.”

  I heard a cough and someone shuffled loudly in their seat. My eyes honed in on the direction of the disruption, and I saw Rome leaning forward, his attention focused on me, with his chin resting upon steepled hands.

  My internal annoyance meter was ticking over, but I gathered my wits and commenced once again trying to ignore him. “Where was I? 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 snapped my head up to find the class gaping up at Rome. I gathered by their reaction that he wasn’t a regular talker in class.

  “Pardon?”

  He rolled his pencil between his fingers, fixing me with cocky gaze. “I was expressin’ my surprise that you agree with Bentham, for the most part.”

  I could feel my cheeks begin to burn in agitation. “Then the answer is yes, you heard correctly.”

  “Huh!” he dismissed and bit his pencil between his teeth, shooting his attention to Ally, who had elbowed him in the ribs and gestured for him to stop.

  I grew even angrier. Rude actions always had that effect on me. I tried to remain professional, I always tried to be professional, but something within me was beginning to snap. Romeo Prince was well and truly getting to me.

  “Huh what? Romeo?” I asked, knowing that I was baiting him by using his full first name.

  His gaze tightened and he pulled back the pencil to hold in his hand. “I just think it’s foolishly idealistic to think in such a way, Shakespeare, and for someone of your supposed intellect, I’m surprised it came out of your mouth at all.”

  My back teeth involuntarily grinded together. I went to further explain my reasons when he piped up again. “I mean, look at the voting analogy you gave: greatest good for the greatest number of people. You mentioned how it was considered good for society, as most people would be happy with the result, but all I see are flaws. What if the ‘majority’ of the people voting are bad or have ill intent and the minority are innocent and good people are put in danger due to the fact that they’re outnumbered? What if the person you voted in has ulterior motives and goes back on what they said they would do?

  “Look at Hitler. He was elected by a democratic vote, and for a time, he was what was right for the majority of the people who were livin’ in poverty with no real hope. But look how that ended… I’m just sayin’ that although it seems good in theory, the practical side don’t really pan out, now does it?”

  I honestly thought a tumbleweed might come rolling through at any second, the room was that silent. Rome appeared more than satisfied with his little outburst and I felt my hackles rising. I instinctively moved towards the set of stairs, making sure he could see me for my tirade. Rising above his arsey comments went out of the open window.

  I lifted my finger in the air. “For a start, do me the honour of letting me finish before rudely interrupting. What I agree with is the idea that individuals do, in many situations, live for pleasure over pain, at least for the most part. Surely you’d agree with that, Mr. Oh-so-fantastic QB. Don’t you make the majority of your decisions based on your illustrious football career, something that brings you pleasure?”

  The students’ heads whipped back and forth like they were watching a really messed-up game of tennis.

  “You’re right, I do, but I also do it for the spectators, for my teammates. They find joy in football, unlike some.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Meanin’ that in Alabama, Shakespeare, football is the greatest pleasure there is—playin’ it, watchin’ it, coachin’ it. My trainin’ and therefore my success benefits both me and others. You seem to be the only one who don’t like it.”

  “Then you’ve proved me right. In Alabama, the greatest good for the greatest number of people is football, as it brings pleasure to the majority of the population,” I replied, smugly.

  He ran his hand over his stubbly, unshaven chin. “In this respect, you may be right, but it’s not always that simple.”

  I folded my arms, eager to hear the response. “Go on.”

  “You talk about individuals doin’ things for pleasure and to avoid pain, things they dislike?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “But many individuals do things that cause themselves pain or displeasure to suit other peoples’ wants and desires.” I assumed he was referring to his weird relationship with Shelly, who was currently scowling at our debate.

  “Oh, I’m not sure they’re always that painful—doing certain things or certain acts that others want, I mean.”

  Rome held his pencil between his hands and hissed through gritted teeth, “Be completely clear, Shakespeare. What you gettin’ at?”

  I couldn’t seem to stop once I got going. This rage I’d felt towards him for days was exploding out of me.

  “Well, let’s use sex, for example. One of the two people partaking in the act might want it more, and the second person may be altogether quite indifferent in their affections, but the second person ultimately gives in and does it anyway to make the first person happy. However—and herein lies the irony—the one that is unhappy still finds sexual release, therefore, doesn’t really experience displeasure at all. Do they?” I directed absolutely his way.

  The pencil snapped in his hands. “Or how about a person decides it would be a good idea to kiss another, due to some weird, unexplainable pull but then, in hindsight, decides that it was a fuckin’ mistake. That they spoke about personal things for the first time ever with someone different, someone new, thinkin’, Maybe I can trust this person with knowing the real me? Only to realise that what you did was stupid and should never have happened at all. Cementin’ that people are just one big ol’ disappointment!” He threw the pencil parts to the floor and ran his hands aggressively through his hair. Quiet murmurs spread throughout the
room.

  Our gazes locked, both of us breathing heavily from the emotional exertion of our argument, neither of us knowing what to do next. The unfamiliarity of such raw emotion being a new sensation for us both to experience.

  Professor Ross interrupted us with a cough. I turned to the clock on the wall, noticing that the lecture was almost done. “Next seminar will look at Bentham’s personal notes. The essential reading is on the course outline. Class dismissed.”

  I scurried back to the safety of my desk, battling a sudden bout of nausea. I was more confused than the first time I read Freidrich Nietzsche in the original German.

  Professor Ross came over fanning herself with her hand. “Well, that was different, Molly. It didn’t really have anything to do with the topic we needed to cover, was highly inappropriate, but it sure was interesting to watch you two sparring. You want to talk about anything? The atmosphere in here caused by the heat of you both was as electric as a summer storm.”

  “No, I don’t want to talk.” I gathered my books in my hand. “I’m sorry. I’m just going to grab my things and hit the library. I need to study. I have a paper due.”

  Her lips pursed. “Okay, but you know where I am if you need me.”

  I avoided her eyes. “Thanks.” Relieved that the lecture hall was now empty, I left the room.

  I powered through the door, and Rome jumped in my path, getting right in front of my face to the point that we were sharing the same air. “What the fuck was that all about?” he seethed.

  “You were rude,” I accused, checking we were alone. We were… completely.

  “I was debating. That’s what you do in Philosophy. You made it personal.”

  “So did you!”

  We glared at one another—a contest of wills—goose bumps spreading like wildfire on my body.

  Rome cracked first. “Why did you bring up the other night? What I talked to you about was in confidence. I told you things I’ve never told another livin’ person, and you threw it back at me in a public class? I put my trust in you and you dredge it up in your lecture for your own fuckin’ smart-assed gain?”