Elizabeth was a firm believer in the philosophy that the only people that could hurt you were the ones you allowed to do so. She certainly didn’t give a shit what a pompous little rich boy thought of her. Except for whatever reason, his words remained on an endless loop.
And she should have known better than to extend an olive branch to a trust-funder who could likely pose for GQ on the side.
Fucker.
Elizabeth sighed, kicking off her boots, then her leggings before finally stripping her blouse over her head. Jane was a bit of a neat-freak, but hopefully she’d be too preoccupied on cloud nine to notice that her roommate’s clothes, however temporarily, were scattered across the floor.
If Jane even came back tonight.
Elizabeth wrestled herself into an oversized tee and tried not to frown. Tomorrow was a busy day for both of them, and Jane didn’t seem the type to shirk responsibility for a quick lay, even if she and that Charlie guy had been all over each other.
She shook her head to dispel the image and meandered over to her bookshelf. There was little to no chance she’d get any sleep until Jane got back—Elizabeth’s overactive brain couldn’t be bothered with a full night’s sleep when there was a problem to be solved.
“No time like the present,” she muttered, and grabbed The Gunslinger off her shelf. Might as well try to get into this for the seven thousandth time, though usually her eyes started to glaze over right around page ten.
Elizabeth climbed into bed, propped a pillow behind her, and cracked the book open.
No sooner had she read the first line—for the seven thousand and first time—did the whine of the front door echo from downstairs. The sound of giggling did not follow, so Elizabeth assumed it was Jane.
She focused harder on the book and tried to look engrossed. She didn’t want Jane to know she’d waited up for her.
Not that Jane would have noticed, necessarily. After a minute or so, the dorm room door exploded inward, and a tired but blissful Jane waltzed over the threshold.
“Hi Lizzie,” she said, dropping her keys on the dresser.
“Hey,” Elizabeth said, keeping her eyes glued on the book.
“How long have you been home?”
“A while.” Not technically a lie. A while was a loose enough term to apply to any measure of time. “How are you?”
“I’m…perfect.”
“That’s nice.”
“Charlie is…” Jane stared off into space for a moment. “I have no words for him.”
“I can think of a few,” Elizabeth muttered. Jane, thankfully, didn’t hear.
“He was just so sweet.” She pulled her sweater off and—to Elizabeth’s shock—tossed it over her shoulder. “We talked all night.”
“You talked?”
“Well, he talked. I listened, but he’s so much fun to talk to. And he’s not bad on the eyes, either.” Jane giggled. “Apparently, his father owns some corporation out of New York and insisted Charlie get an education before he took over.”
Elizabeth tilted her head, somewhat impressed in spite of herself. “Really?”
Jane nodded, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. “Yes. And he’s adamant about climbing the ladder. He wants to start small and prove to the shareholders that he belongs in the job and that his advancement, whenever it comes, isn’t nepotism. He was really passionate about it, Lizzie.”
Hmm. Good for him. Elizabeth thought it might be necessary to revisit her inner scorecard and evaluate the marks she’d given him.
“So did he try anything?” she asked instead. This would be the real test of character.
Jane shook her head. “No. We just danced. His hands remained above the waist at all times.”
“You know what else is above the waist.” Elizabeth pointed at Jane’s considerable rack and arched an eyebrow.
“Lizzie!”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re wrong. He didn’t so much as look at my breasts all night.”
She found that hard to believe, but decided not to challenge her friend. Instead, she changed tactics. “Did he ask for your phone number or anything?”
“He texted himself from my phone.” Jane pulled her phone out of her bra as she kicked off her pants. If possible, her face brightened even further. “Oh! He’s already texted!”
“Yeah?”
Jane beamed and tossed her the phone.
Elizabeth looked at the screen and blinked. It wasn’t just one text message. Apparently, Charlie was a drunk texter.
Charlie: U mite be the prettiest girl Ive ever met. Thot u shld know.
Charlie: I miss u alrdy.
Charlie: Do u belief in love in first seeing?
Charlie: Plz. Must c u. 2morrow?
Charlie: Wil put me 2 bed. Cant stop thking bout u. Hope ur real.
Elizabeth wrinkled her nose, handing back the phone. “So…he’s wasted.”
“He offered to walk me back here but a few friends were going to do shots. I practically had to sign a permission slip to get him to go with them.” Jane shrugged. “I think he really likes me.”
“If not Charlie, then certainly drunk Charlie.”
Jane’s smile dimmed by a fraction. “Do you not like him?”
“I don’t know him. I like you a lot and I’m probably going to be super suspicious of any guy who so much as looks at you.” Not to mention some rather uncharitable thoughts she’d been having, mostly as an offshoot from her mind’s preoccupation with Will. The last thing sweet Jane needed was to be some rich guy’s idea of slumming.
But that was Jane’s business. If she wasn’t worried about Charlie’s motives, then Elizabeth wouldn’t be either.
“Sorry. That’s my emotional baggage showing. The truth is, Charlie was fun to be around, and you clearly made an impression.” She waved at the phone. “And that his go-to when super drunk was to send you sweet messages speaks volumes, I think. Unless you deleted a dick pic or twelve before you came in here.”
Jane laughed and shook her head. “No dick pics,” she said. “Hell, he didn’t even go for the goodnight kiss until I asked him if it’d be all right if I kissed him. Even then, he was…sweet. Like he thought he’d break me.”
“Then I can’t think of any reason not to give him the Elizabeth Bennet stamp of approval.”
“Really?”
“Really. That said, I reserve the right to decide he’s an assface when and if I’m presented with conflicting evidence.”
“That seems perfectly fair.”
“I like to think so.”
Jane grinned and started humming. She hummed all the way through her bedtime ritual—eventually picking up her clothes and therein proving she wasn’t a pod-person. She hummed as she brushed her teeth—which had to be messy—and as she set her alarm.
Elizabeth was too awake to consider switching off her lamp—due to both the thoughts churning in her head and Jane’s unending humming. In fact, were it not for the fact that Jane seemed three seconds away from breaking into song amidst chore-completing woodland creatures, Elizabeth might have been tempted to scream something like, “Shut the hell up.”
Alas, Jane was three seconds away from a Disney number. She couldn’t stop smiling, and Jane’s smile was infectious.
“Oh, and he’s funny,” Jane said as she came back into the room, dressed in a virginal white gown that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else. “I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that much.”
“He definitely knows the right things to say,” Elizabeth agreed, glancing back to the open book in her lap. Not that it mattered. She still hadn’t retained a word.
“His friend though…I didn’t get as good a read on him.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips and didn’t look up. “Hmm.”
“Did you? I should have asked.” She paused. “I mean, aside from the way you practically flayed him alive within the first ten seconds.”
“I did no such flaying. I just…remember what it was like when
I was here before. The trust-funders acted like they were royalty while we were lucky to be breathing the same air.” She shuddered. “Will was just entitlement personified.”
“Charlie says he’s a really good guy.”
“Well, Charlie’s a dude. Dudes have each other’s backs. And maybe Will’s a good guy when he’s around others who have extra zeros in their bank account. From what I saw, he’s an ass.” Elizabeth slammed her book closed. Definitely time to give up—she wasn’t going to finish the chapter tonight. “Also, if Will’s a freshman, there’s a chance he and Charlie haven’t hung around each other much in the last few years. Maybe Will only recently got that stick up his ass.”
“Did he say anything specifically? You seem to…really not like him.”
Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her legs, trying and failing not to think about the horrified oh god no look he’d given her when she’d asked if he wanted to dance. “I tried to make nice after you guys left,” she said. “Because even I can admit when I’m an asshole. He seemed to accept that and we went our separate ways. Then I took a breather for a moment—found a closet to decompress. It’s been a while since I’ve peopled to this extent.”
“Are you okay?” Jane asked at once. “If you were having a bad time, I—”
“I’m fine,” Elizabeth said. “Tonight was good. Promise. I just needed a moment. But I heard Charlie and Will talking before I could come out. Charlie was nice,” she added quickly at the curious and somewhat terrified look on Jane’s face. “And yeah, he was gushing about you.”
“Really?”
“I think we could have drawn cartoon hearts around him.” She smiled weakly. “He asked Will about me and Will was… Well, not charitable.”
Jane’s expression went stony. “What did he say?”
“That my attitude sucks and I’m not attractive.”
“What! That jerk!”
Elizabeth shrugged, hoping she came off as blasé. The last thing she needed was Jane or anyone thinking she gave a damn what Will thought of her. Because she didn’t. At all. “What pissed me off isn’t that,” she said. “It’s just…he dismissed me as a person because I’m not attractive. This is something that only happens to women. Men think they can rate our worth based on how attractive we are. You know, having a dirty mouth has been scientifically linked to higher intelligence, but if we drop a few expletives here or there—as the fairer sex—we’re crude and not ladylike and all that bullshit.”
Jane inclined her head. “Yeah, I think that attitude is pretty prevalent around here. But if we’re gonna challenge the system, we need our beauty rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a loooong day.”
“I take it the professors here still haven’t embraced the culture of handing out syllabuses on the first day and going over coursework in lieu of an actual class?”
Jane shook her head. “Sorry, hon. Be prepared to actually learn things tomorrow.”
“Damn.”
“You’ll do fine.”
“I’m going to be the old lady among a bunch of kids.” Elizabeth wrinkled her nose and began edging down the mattress. Time to get some zs. “Remind me again that I don’t want to drop out.”
“You don’t want to drop out.” Jane climbed into her bed and pulled her blanket close. “Good night, Lizzie.”
“’Night, Jane.”
5
Of course.
Elizabeth stood in the doorway of the morning’s first class, staring dumbfounded at the last face she wanted to see. To his credit, Will didn’t look much happier to see her. Rather, the second their eyes connected, he coughed and shuffled in his seat, casting his gaze about the modest-sized classroom as though desperate for a diversion. It was just her freaking luck that the only available seat in the room was next to him.
Because obviously the universe hated her.
Also, somewhat served her right for not getting to bed until late. Then getting to class late, and clearly having the last pick of the seating.
Curse her for attending a college with a student roster that could probably fit on a postage stamp. If she were going to a larger school, this likely wouldn’t have happened. But Meryton was small, tiny, even, and so were its classes—this factor being one of the key selling points to most.
And right now, a major thorn in her side.
Elizabeth heaved a sigh, shifted her book bag on her shoulder, and pressed through. She caught Lydia and Mary’s eyes before she reached her desk, and gave them both a good glower for not saving her a seat.
Oh well. She could ignore Will today and make a point to get here earlier before the class met next.
Yet as she settled into her seat, she became aware of just how aware she was of his presence. And how aware he was of her. Though she didn’t want to give him too much attention, she could feel him sneaking glances at her from the corner of his eye.
This was going to be a long hour.
“Good morning, everyone,” came from the head of the room. A woman with graying blonde hair, glasses, and dressed in a conservative brown skirt with a matching cardigan stood next to a whiteboard.
Elizabeth reached over to dig out a notebook and pen.
“Welcome to Introduction to Ethics,” the woman continued. “I’ll be playing the part of your professor, Sally Greenfield. As the course name suggests, this is an introductory class designed to help you get a better understanding of the subjectivity of ethics in the modern world. If you decide to stick with it—which I very much recommend—you’ll find that Meryton has a great selection of more career-based courses depending on your major or post-college plans as you advance.”
The professor stopped for a moment, ostensibly to see if she’d lost anyone yet.
“We cover a lot of broad ground in this course,” she continued, “and because of that, no topic is off limits. It’s my goal to help you frame every substantive issue you encounter with its ethical virtues or faults. More than that, understand that your personal ethics”—she pointed at a student sitting near the back—“and yours”—she pointed at Will—“are not necessarily going to match, or if they do, not precisely. Understanding your own ethics, and being able to empathize with alternative views, will help you forge stronger relationships both in business and elsewhere.”
Professor Greenfield deposited a briefcase across the table at the head of the class, popped it open, and pulled out a thin stack of paper. “Then we’ll move on to the syllabus.”
The professor divided the stack appropriately and issued one chunk to each row, horizontally rather than vertically, denying Elizabeth the opportunity to get out of this class without acknowledging Will’s presence. She resolved to avoid eye contact with him regardless.
Yet she felt Will’s gaze on her like it was a physical thing, and found she couldn’t keep from looking at him. When their eyes connected, her breath caught and her face flushed with heat. His expression was both unreadable and tense, and in spite of herself, she felt something inside her seize.
“Here,” she said, tearing her gaze from his and shoving the remaining syllabi into his outstretched hand.
“Thanks,” he replied shortly.
Elizabeth released a long, calming breath before turning her attention to the syllabus. Overall, it looked fairly standard. Course required reading included Fundamentals of Ethics, The Elements of Moral Philosophy, and Justice: What’s the Right Thing to Do? as well as a handful of essays. There were several debates scattered throughout the semester, with a team debate scheduled for the midterm. The final would consist of a term paper.
Easy peasy, lemon-squeezy.
“As you can see, we’re going to do a lot of arguing,” Professor Greenfield said. Her comment earned a collective smile. She grinned and inclined her head. “Who all took debate in high school?”
Elizabeth raised her hand and noted, not without a smirk, that Will did not. No matter that high school was nearly seven years behind her—she considered that a win in her book.
And yes,
she was being petty. But she felt she’d earned it.
“Excellent.” The professor nodded her approval at the show of hands. “Then this will come easy for you. You will not always find yourself on the side of an argument that you agree with. Investigating and understanding alternative views and their ethical arguments is a big part of what I expect you to take away from this class. But don’t get too comfortable—if you do find yourself assigned to the side of a particular argument that you agree with, you must be absolutely prepared to make your case. The readings we do between these debates should help frame your arguments as much as possible. These arguments are intended to be persuasive, but every good debater comes prepared with sources to back them up. And no, not including Wikipedia.”
“Dammit!” came a voice from the back. Elizabeth was fairly certain it belonged to Lydia.
“Before we leave today, I’m going to assign debate teams,” Professor Greenfield said, apparently choosing to ignore the outburst. “Not every exercise will be a group effort, but for those that are, your team will be your defacto family throughout the rest of the semester.”
At that, Elizabeth’s heart plummeted. Fuck. No.
Will tensed as well and threw her a somewhat panicked look that only served to piss her off more. Because he obviously found even the possibility of having to work with her insulting.
God, this guy.
“So…” The professor reached into her briefcase and pulled out a single loose sheet of paper. “I don’t take attendance,” she informed them. “You’re paying to be here. It’s not my job to make sure you make every class. And that might mean that it takes me a bit to learn your names, because this is the one time you’re going to see me refer to the class roster.” She glanced at the roll call. “Elizabeth Bennet.”
Elizabeth shot her hand into the air. “Yes, ma’am.”
Greenfield nodded. “Okay. Why don’t you pair up with Miss Wikipedia-lover in the back there?”
A Higher Education Page 4
