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CHAPTER 1

Rodney

“I won’t have time to help out this year, Yaz. It’s not because I hate you. I swear it.” My words are genuine, though a bit exaggerated.

The truth is that I do have the time to help, I simply don’t want to. The past couple of years have proven to me that I don’t have the ability to tutor my peers without it turning ugly. I’ve given so much of myself to the detriment of my own priorities.

If I could say I only want to work with non-male students, then it might be fine. But that’s considered discrimination, hence why I need to bow out completely.

“It’s not fair,” Yaz whines. “You’re the best tutor we have. Everyone we send to you passes with flying colors. There was a damn waitlist for your name over the summer, Rodney!”

I fight the laugh that wants to come at the way she stomps her foot. Yaz is all for the dramatics, much the same as some other people in my life.

Thinking of a compromise, I offer the last Hail Mary I can. “Look, I’ll make a deal. If you have someone who comes in that just absolutely can’t work with anyone else, then I’ll help. But I’m talking desperate measures here, woman. I refuse to repeat last year.”

She has the decency to wince at my mention of ‘the time that shan’t be named’. It was not a fun time for me to deal with the blowback from one particular student feeling entitled to my time and efforts. Said student also thought I’d simply do the work for him.

Needless to say, he wound up benched from the rest of the hockey season, and we almost missed going to the playoffs. I was enemy number one since so many people believed I should have just done what he asked.

Thankfully, there are more than a few people who understand my side of the story so I’m not a total pariah. Plus, the team is said to be back and better than ever this year. Not that I’ll be paying attention.

Having grown up in a house with an athlete, I can honestly say that sports don’t matter to me. I’d rather read a good book or discuss the latest TedTalk than go over stats about a player or debate who is best for the Ice Kings Fantasy League.

My alarm goes off, signaling it’s time for me to head home. I’ve got a paper due next week that I need to start, and I’d like to get ahead on my research for the semester if possible. It’s not like my workload is insurmountable. If anything, I have more free time than I know what to do with.

I’ve taken nearly every class Bellport University has to offer in my fields of study. Since I’m working on my second PhD, that means most of my time is spent preparing to defend my thesis when the time comes. Other than that, I’m open to a variety of things, which in the past has included tutoring for Yaz, being a TA, and volunteering my time to any academic organizations that needed able-bodied workers.

While I might not be one for athletics, I believe encouraging others in their pursuits of learning is important. If I hadn’t had someone do the same for me, I wouldn’t have been on the advanced path I am on today.

Graduating college at sixteen. Getting my first PhD before my nineteenth birthday. Working on my second one now that I’m twenty-one.

Yeah, it’s definitely due to the encouragement from others that I’m here. That and my lack of a social life.

I make my way through the quad to head towards the parking lot. It’s not all that busy, which I’m thankful for. The less people there are, the better my chances of making it to my car without having to defend myself.

“Yo, Ro! What are you doing here?” Arms wrap around me from behind before I get the chance to flee.

I groan, wiggling in a feeble attempt to free myself from the asshole of the day. He lets me loose after holding on for a minute too long.

When I turn, I’m greeted by his smug grin. “What do you want, Liam?”

“What’s wrong with you? Don’t bark at me. You should be thanking me for sending my friends on to practice before they saw you.”

I take my glasses off and rub my eyes at his words. Why in the world did I tell him thanks for that? While one bully was better than a herd of them, he could have simply let me go on my way without any interference at all.

His attention to me makes no sense.

Ma once told me that people picked on me because they were jealous of my smarts. They wanted to make themselves feel better by belittling the younger kid in class.

I find the idea ridiculous.

Aries went so far as to say they were teasing me because they liked me. I reminded him that it was an entire subgroup of people doing so — all of whom were athletes. While I knew I wasn’t ugly by any means, I had no belief that I was attractive enough to warrant the attention of all of them.

“I don’t have time for this today. Is there something you needed? I’ve got somewhere to be,” I tell him once I slip the glasses back on.

He scowls, then looks over his shoulder towards the athletics building. It’s large enough we can see a good portion of it from here. It towers above everything else, proving just how much Bellport appreciates sports over academics.

If this wasn’t home, then I’d likely be studying anywhere else in the world to finish my degrees. With Ma and Aries here though, I can’t imagine leaving just yet.

Maybe later if my work takes me away.

Then again, I don’t see that happening either. I love this place too much, despite its foolish preferences.

“You always have time for me, Ro. Besides, it’s not like you have anything important to do. You’re probably just going home to be nerdy and shit since you don’t date or party like a normal college kid.”

There’s that fucking word.

Normal.

I haven’t been normal since the day I was born.

Everything I’ve done has been at an abnormal pace. It’s why I’m in the position I’m in now, dealing with a man the same age as me but who can’t seem to fucking mature past his early teens.

Sighing, I grip the strap of my bag and call it done. “Look, I don’t care if you think I’m not normal, Liam. We’ve been down this road before. I really do have somewhere else to be.”

I turn to leave, only to be stopped by a firm grip on my forearm. Liam’s hand holds tight, his gaze hard.

“I didn’t say we were done talking,” he growls.

“But I did.”

He squeezes tighter at the bite in my voice. He’s not at all happy to be called out, especially in a place as public as the quad. There may not be a lot of people here, but the ones that are will surely spread word of our altercation.

Before he can say another word, his phone rings. He pulls it out with his free hand, answering with a gruff, “Hello?”

I can’t hear the other person, though I have no doubt it’s one of his teammates. Whatever they say has him easing his grip.

“Yeah, I hear you. I’ll come now.” He hangs up, then tugs me closer. “You’re lucky I have to go meet my new teammate or else I’d show you just what disrespecting me brings you. It’s been so long, you must have forgotten.”

With a shove, he tosses me aside and turns to jog away. I’m left standing there, cradling my arm as I fight back tears — partially in pain from his grip but more so in relief he’s gone.

He’s such an asshole.

I wish I could get rid of him. He’s the worst of the group, and I think the others would stop if he did. Or at least, they’d let up some.

Unfortunately, that will likely never happen. My brother would step in to help if I told him. His presence tends to make things worse though. I don’t know how much more I can handle from them.

Putting my head down, I finish the trek to my car as I ignore the ache in my arm. My skin is tan enough it likely won’t bruise. If it does, I know a few tricks to cover them. I’ve been on the wrong side of a punch or two in my day. I’m used to this.