This story and it's containing characters are fictional. I do not own the rights to the media contents of this story, aside from the book cover. With mentioning this, I also heed the warning about the act of copying this story for ownership beside my own. Should this occur, appropriate actions will be taken.
Marilyn Edmond. All Rights Reserved©
The two glared at each other. Inwardly the two fought for dominance. Evelyn had a sense she was winning this whose-ego-is-bigger-than-whose, but George showed no signs of surrender. He was just as stubborn as she is.
The pair glowered at each other for what felt like forever until George realized how childish their argument was. He really needed her help and if kissing Evelyn's ass would help him, then he'd be the best ass kisser in the world.
"You have a nasty ass attitude." George finally grumbles.
"And you have a nasty ass grade in Organic Chemistry, who's worst off?" Evelyn quips as She cracks open the textbook. "Now shut up and read."
George hid the smirk that was threatening his lips as he watched her lip twitch in agitation. He had to admit, her nasty attitude was pretty damn attractive. Not because she had a smart mouth, but because she could back that smart mouth up with actual facts and not just petty comebacks. He likes that a lot.
"Wait, before we start." George leans forward into his seat. "What exactly do you want out of this?"
Evelyn sat back in her seat to think. She never truly thought this part out. Hell, when he showed up fifteen minutes late, she planned on leaving his egotistical ass right there in that seat. She wanted to teach him a lesson, but she realized his need.
George is taking her smart mouth, offering to pay her, and begging for her in front of her classmates, it was too much comedic gold to walk away from. Besides, she genuinely wanted to help this guy with whatever it is.
She catches George's gaze. God, he looked like a lost puppy to her. Again, Evelyn is not the sensitive type, but she does feel remorseful for George. So she sighs.
"Nothing. Nothing at all." She answers honestly.
George frowned in confusion. Surely Evelyn wanted something. Nobody does anything for free. He did offer her money, so maybe she means that she wants nothing else? George didn't know and he needed to find out sooner rather than later.
"Evelyn seriously, what do you want?" George pushes.
Evelyn rolls her eyes and pushes away from the table. She is seriously annoyed with this entire interaction. That and she is also short-tempered. Besides, she has her own homework she could be doing. Instead of sitting here and playing a game of cat and mouse with George.
George panicked as he watched Evelyn stand from her seat. He hastily stood to his feet when he saw that she wasn't stopping. She had turned around to pack her things. For a moment, George stopped to enjoy her backside.
Lord Jesus, George thanks God for athletic girls. Her bottom was small, but he was sure his entire hand could cup it easily.
"I am really sick of you doing that. I'm not like any of these girls to bother with. You better look somewhere else because the next time you stare at me. I'm really--"
"Gonna beat my ass. Yeah, yeah. I know." George mocks Evelyn.
Welcome to the "Storm" series.
Evelyn taps her foot rapidly against the dirty tile. Her pencil joins in on the nervous habit. She only has forty-five minutes to answer sixty questions. That doesn't seem so hard. Evelyn has done this countless times before. Waiting until the last damn minute to actually focus on her exam. She was too busy inwardly gritting at the annoying asshole behind her. Apparently someone doesn't know how to keep their damn feet to themselves.
She sighs dejectedly. Her awareness of her surroundings annoys her sometimes. Then again, who else wouldn't find some jerk consistently kicking their chair annoying. Asshole.
Evelyn tightens her grip on her pencil. She needs to focus. She has sixty questions and only forty-five, no, thirty minutes left.
"Shit..." She mutters, scanning over the multiple choice questions.
Evelyn studied. Yes, she studied her ass off. She ignored any and everything that served as some form of a distraction. She wanted to make another A. Hell, she needs to make another A to keep her academic scholarship.
The crossing thought sent a ping of pain to Evelyn's temples. She does not want to think about all of that pressure at this moment.
"Come on, come on." She coaxes herself.
It took her for what felt like forever, but soon she was on her last question with five minutes to spare. Her studying definitely came in handy as Mr. Waller could be a bit of a vague asshole when it came to his study guides. He kept his sample questions and answers condensed.
This annoyed Evelyn because it meant that she had to read more and second guess herself on what information was or wasn't relevant. Thank God all of that actually worked.
"Finally." Evelyn sighs out a little louder than intended.
Mr. Waller, who's head popped up as soon as she uttered the word, gives her an indifferent gaze before rolling his eyes in boredom. Evelyn rolls her eyes as well as he returned his gaze to the paper in front of him.
He really is an uptight jerk.
Signing her name on the sheet, she all but eagerly stood from her seat. She walked gingerly down the aisle, taking note of the hefty amount of empty seats. For a moment she felt discouraged for taking such a long time to complete an easy exam, but just as quick as the feeling came, it went with ease. Why should she feel terrible for taking her time?
She shrugs as an answer, setting the packet and scan-tron on the professors desk. She is glad that this will be the last time she will see him.
"Thank you. Happy Holidays." He replies dryly.
Evelyn mumbled a sincere "thank you" as she tried to contain her excitement and not high-tail hair happy ass out of the lecture hall as she really wanted to.
Although, once she was outside, she damn near sprinted out of the building altogether. She did not give a damn that she looked like a blurb of black as she zoomed through the seemingly endless halls.
She was happy to have finally ended the semester. Her first semester in college damn near kicked her ass. She nearly breezed through high school and she had all the confidence that she would do the same in college. She was humbled very quickly.
Evelyn declared her Political Science major fairly early. Not many college freshman enter college already knowing what they want to do, let alone what they want to major in. Some called her silly, some thought it was enlightening to see someone so young already on the path to success. Evelyn simply thought the major would be great for her pre-law route and definitely easy to survive in.
She was once again humbled rather quickly.
With her being a Political Science major, she was forced - yes, forced - to take an intro to Sociology course. It wasn't something she was too pleased with. Professor Waller was an asshole after all. Along with her American Government class, Sociology gave her more hell than needed. Yet, she still persevered and that is something worth celebrating.
Evelyn's reign of elation did not last long. As she stepped out onto the sidewalk of the campuses courtyard, one, no, two-three? Raindrops did more than just put a damper on her mood. It dampened her whole damn outfit.
"Fuck my life." She grits, making a careful sprint for the nearby Student Union.
She silently thanks the God above for the extended hours of "The Union". Never again will she procrastinate and register for a six o'clock class. She spent her Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday evenings re-evaluating her entire life. That maybe an exaggeration, but nonetheless a feasible description of her pain.
Heavy breaths escape her parted lips as she barely catches the door of the Student Union. Some asshole saw her sprinting towards the door and continued walking without much thought. Evelyn thought to give the douchebag in dirty chucks a piece of her mind, but who would listen to a clearly out of breath girl, with drenched clothes, rant about proper hospitality.
Yeah how useful that would have been.
Evelyn sighs dejectedly for what felt like the millionth time this evening. She is tired and wants nothing more than to return to her dorm room and make friends with her bed.
Even though she despises dorm living, it sounds grand compared to being stuck in a Student Union which is practically empty. Yeah, she is very thankful to be finished with that evening class.
Retrieving her cellphone from her back pocket, Evelyn takes a seat at a nearby table. She fishes for her beloved earbuds grunting as the process takes longer than usual. She is always losing those damned things.
When she eventually finds the hot pink buds, she smiles contently. Not because she found them, but because she managed to only curse three times, all words of which were everything but ladylike.
Evelyn wasn't always a potty-mouth pirate - her best friends words - but after a bullshit of a high school career and a quite rough first week of college, she felt the need to take on a assertive persona fast and quick. It was once a defense mechanism, but now has turned second-nature.
Her friends find it hilarious. The people that piss her off find it "un-ladylike". She hated that word. Ladylike. When did defending oneself become limited to gender roles?
Evelyn is not a feminist, not the least bit, but she does believes in equality for all. No matter someone's race, gender, sex, or religion. Period.
Plugging the earbuds into her ears, she scrolls through her music app until she finds that perfect song. Everyone has that one song that can be played countless times and still be just as exciting as it was the first time.
In her element, Evelyn mumbles the lyrics incoherently. She loves this song. She bobs her head to the consistent beat. She smiles at the lyrics allowing herself to become enveloped by the nostalgia.
After fifteen minutes of her favorite song forgoing on repeat - it is her favorite song after all - she finally decides to look to the glass doors across the Student Union. It is getting late and a blazing shower is calling her name. Washington's cold weather is something beyond Evelyn.
The rain seems to have slacked off. This only means that it will be colder tomorrow. Evelyn could care less because she will be busy in her dorm elatedly packing for home. She misses her family.
She even misses her annoying little sister, Brianna, who seems to only be able to whine about not "being like Ariel". Ariel is her "best friend", hence the quotations. Both her sister and Ariel are fifteen, but apparently Ariel walks around like she is twenty-five. She is way too fast pace for her little sister, and not in regards to maturity level. Evelyn cannot wait to return home and straighten that disaster out.
Evelyn sighs heavily, something she seems to very often these days, standing from the table. Fortunately for her, she didn't bring anything to class besides herself, a pencil, and of course her cellphone. What would have been the point of anything else?
Walking out into the the misty rain was still a pain. The wind is blowing and it is still very cold. Evelyn damn near cursed the entire way to her dorm, she absolutely can't wait to graduate.
With that thought, she pushed her way through the doors of her dorm. Watson Hall is a coed dorm and is well recognized for being the cleanest of the six dorms on campus. Many of the students that occupy these dorms are on some kind of scholarship, Evelyn is a lucky one.
"Shove me any harder and I would've been able to press charges." A unfamiliar baritone interrupts her.
Evelyn scrunches her face, indeed feeling the minor shock from what seems to have been an accidental run-in. She hadn't realized that she was walking so fast, let alone so fervently.
"My bad." Is all she offers before turning toward the elevators down the hall.
If the guy said anything afterwards, Evelyn did not catch it. She just wanted to be in her own bed. Better yet, under a shower.
George tried not to storm out of the lecture hall as he simultaneously tried not to slam the door behind him once he met the threshold. Professor Flanningan is a hypocritical dickhead with a mean case of halitosis. Honestly, George doesn't know for sure if the reasons why the Irish mans breath is so haunting was due to such a disease, but damn the man needs a fucking mint.
Yet, this is not the reason why George has decided to fume quietly. He is fuming because the dickhead - a honorary nickname for the Irish-American man given by George Mills himself - decided to throw in a few more questions then promised on the final exam. This didn't necessarily make the smoke stream from Georges ears as it was highly expected, it was the fact that professor Flanningan had went above and beyond to recite grades as students turned in their test.
This seems minor to someone on the outside, but George knew all too well that professor Flanningan was being his usual spiteful self. This too George had already come to terms with. It is the fact that this dickhead, knows that a few of his students are hanging on to their deaths of their grade point average. George, well, he happens to be one of those students.
Although, him being able to somehow coax his past professors into giving him those last two points towards an A, B, or definitely that C has helped him thus far in his college career, he knows that certain professors don't necessarily give a damn about a sophomore student trying to make it to see junior year. Dickhead is one of those professors.
George has a weak sixty as a grade average in this Organic Chemistry class. He knows it is entirely his fault as he sucks in the science department, but he has to pass in order to be a scientist. He doesn't know what "kind" of scientist, but apparently all those mother fuckers make good money. George wants to be one of those said mother fuckers.
So when Professor Dickhead let the remaining flock of students know in the lecture hall that George T. Mills - Flynn for close friends - was one of the few hanging onto their grade point average for dear life, George instantly tensed up. Oh, but professor dickhead was not finished. Professor Flanningon glanced at George's paper in disgust, caught George's gaze and with a smile that even the Chester cat showed no competition with, and said the three words that sent George's body ablaze in fury.
"See you, again."
Those words did something to George and he knew they were said to get a rise out of him. He almost kicked himself for letting them do just that. Professor Flanningon made sure to put emphasis on that last word. Again. He knows of George's pitiful history with Organic Chemistry. This is his second time taking the course.
Last semester he dropped the class because his last professor was giving too much homework and in-class assignments at once. It was only the beginning of summer semester. How can he handle such a load without learning anything? He later learned that it was a hybrid class which was meant to be fast paced. Tell the financial aid advisors that.
The personnel in the office refused to refund his money for "dropping the class late" how the hell was he supposed to know that the class was not going to last long or that the drop or add period was over before it began? His online blackboard has that typed in bold letters, but George didn't pay any mind to that.
Nonetheless, George is having a rough sophomore year and professor dickhead is the head of them all. He had made a vendetta against George T. Mills and there was nothing George could do about it. So yes, he bowed away gracefully. Until he walked out of the Science and Math building that is.
"Fuck that dickhead!" He exclaims as he slammed a book into the snow-covered concrete.
He glances at the smothered textbook. The white sheet blanketing it almost covers the subject of the textbook, but obviously not enough to stop the fire blazing in George's eyes. He officially hates Organic Chemistry.
The thought to just leave the textbook to tarnish beneath the snow crosses George's mind. Sure, he could leave the wretched thing there - and pay for the damages later. With another heavy sigh, George reaches down to pick up the book. He shakes his head as he wipes off the slowly melting snow.
Cuffing the textbook underneath his armpit, he trudges toward the dorms. Barney Hall has been his home since his the latter part of his spring semester. He once lived in Watson Hall from his freshman year until mid-spring semester. He was on an academic scholarship. Contrary to popular belief, George is quite intelligent. He is just a little rough around the edges - very rough around the edges.
He is overly playful, annoying to all, and sometimes his attention span isn't the greatest. But when George put his mind to something, the result is always beautiful. He is also not ashamed of his academic capabilities, he just hates professors like dickhead.
Which is probably why the university took away half of his full academic scholarship, knowing that most of it covered his room and board. Long story short, George went from unlimited buffets in the Cafe to deciding between Ramen noodles or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Sometimes hot pockets are an option.
George pulls back the handle of his dorm, cringing at the usual creaking of the door as he made enough room for himself to pass through.
Barney Hall isn't necessarily bad, but it is not the greatest either. Barney Hall is gentlemen dorm and everyday serves as a reminder. The smell of sweaty males and sometimes illegal escapades emanate the building often. It was a humbling change from Watson Hall for George, but he someone manages.
Aside from the horrid smells, Barney Hall really isn't that bad. Theres a game room, where it is easy to find man-child's playing and hollering over a basketball or football video game. George is one of them. Also, there is a snack room where nine-times-out-of-ten, there is an unlimited supply of nacho Doritos and baked Lays originals. George is always raiding for the Doritos. Lastly, the rooms aren't bad - after getting accustomed to them.
George found it hard to resonate with the fact that he will no longer be able to sleep on a cushioned mattress. He is now forced to sleep on what he calls a "prison mattress". After his first three nights towards the end of the spring semester, he finally made a smart investment and purchased a foam mattress cover. Best twenty bucks he'd ever spent.
"Hey Flynn! What's up, man?" Someone slaps his back roughly.
George turns around and rolls his eyes knowingly.
"Not my grade in dickheads class." He grumbles, joining his friend on the game room couch.
The guy with dirty blond hair and bright oceanic eyes sucks his teeth in remorse of his close friends dismay. He is a Bio-Chemistry major and understands how much science can really kick ass. But unlike George, he manages to pass with flying colors. He is great at science and George envies that. Although, George will never tell him.
"Sorry about that. Flanningon is a cunt and I told you not to get his class!"
George sets down the textbook and reaches for a controller, rolling his eyes at the blond. Blondy is right, he did forewarn George. Again, George will not admit this.
"Fuck him and this science shit." George grits, pressing the start button to revive the controller.
The blond shakes his head and offers not another word as his friend pans out a game plan to beat the Cavaliers.
"So Justin, are you still going to meet Jessica's people?" George asks while forcing Lebron to make a three-pointer.
Justin smacks his teeth at what he calls a "cheap move" and forces his player to run up on George's.
"I guess so. She's real excited about this winter break and I actually kind of can't wait either." He steals the ball. "Her people are nice over Skype so... I don't know."
George curses as Justin makes the basket. He knew he should have stuck to Lebron for defense.
"Cute. But I know you're just itching for that holiday cat." George chuckles, watching with sparkling eyes as his player makes yet another three-pointer.
Justin joins George's chuckles.
"That too. At least I have my own to pet." He nudges George, causing George to lose the ball. "All you have is balls."
"Man fuck you, I like being on my own." Lebron breaks away from Justin's team and runs towards the basket. "I always have options."
Lebron leaps into the air and shoots yet another beautiful three-pointer. When he lands onto his feet again, he does his signature celebration as the camera zooms in. It is a digitally unflattering picture in George's opinion, but his team is in the lead so who cares?
"Whatever, man. Go home to your mommy and daddy and play with yourself in your sisters old bed." Justin chuckles although still frowning at the unfortunate odds that he may lose to George, per usual. "She's twenty, about to graduate, and engaged. Man you are a disappointment."
Justin glances over at George to see if his comment angered him. As his best friend since their elementary days, Justin knows that certain family comments are low blows. George's parents are extremely nice and patient with their youngest and only son, but Justin knows all too well from awkward family dinners that they are patiently waiting for George to get on the same track as his elder and only sister, Megan.
If George was offended by anything that Justin said, he doesn't show it, he chuckles and shrugs his shoulders carelessly.
"Megan is also almost twenty-one and has only one semester to go before she graduates. She is more advanced than me and I'm okay with that." George shrugs again. "Besides, I have my own room to jack-off to pictures of your mother in."
This time it was George who looked to Justin for a reaction. Just as George had done, Justin chuckles and simply shrugs. The two silently call it truths and continue playing the game until, of course, George wins.
Unbeknownst to Justin, George made up in his mind that if he won, then Justin would have to order them a pizza and help George pack for home. Justin was less than happy to oblige.