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“I only have one doctorate,” I shot back, “and it’s not from an Ivy. Am I beneath you, too?”
He hesitated. “Well, not exactly, but if we’re comparing academic bona fides…”
That answer perfectly encapsulated everything about my boyfriend. I stuffed my laptop and notes into my bag and hefted it onto my shoulder.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Home.”
“You’re being dramatic, Taylor.”
“I’ll see you on campus tomorrow.” I opened the door.
“I cannot help but wonder if your sensitivity means you have latent feelings for this jock,” he said as I slammed the door in his face.
I was so angry on the drive back to my apartment. On paper, Eric was perfect for me. We were intellectually and academically compatible. Our love life was fine. We didn’t have the steamiest relationship, but I was comfortable with him.
Sometimes he could be a tremendous asshole, though.
While sitting at a red light, I opened Twitter and played the video again. Isabella’s arguments to Brody were all over the place. She wanted him to go clubbing the night before a game? That was ridiculous. When the video reached the part where he called her unreasonable, I found myself nodding along.
I wonder if that’s what the fight is really about, or if there’s something else going on.
My apartment wasn’t as nice as Eric’s, but I was alone, which made me happy. I changed back into my pajamas and crawled in bed, but before I could turn out the light, Eric called me.
I hit the ignore button. Eric hated texting, and insisted on calling everyone. When my phone notified me that I had a voicemail, I hit play.
“Taylor,” came Eric’s lecturing tone. “It’s Eric. I truly do not understand what has gotten into you, and I am quite frustrated that you refuse to tell me.”
“I did tell you!” I shouted, even though the recording couldn’t hear me.
“I can only speculate about why you have been so moody lately,” he droned on. “Brody’s girlfriend mentioned that this weekend is the first home game. I suspect you are experiencing additional stress due to that. You cannot be an associate professor at the university and a cheerleader. It is simply too much work. It is not too late to quit that silly hobby and focus on what actually matters…”
I stopped the message there. For someone who was so smart, Eric could be really dumb sometimes.
I wished there was someone I could talk to. I wasn’t close enough with my mom to call her out of the blue and complain about my boyfriend. The only friends I had made since moving here were all fellow professors at the university. My closest friend back in California was at a conference in Europe, so I couldn’t call her.
I scrolled through my recent call list and paused at a number I didn’t recognize. After a puzzling moment, I realized it was from when Brody had test-called me that day in the lecture hall, to verify my phone number.
After hesitating a few seconds, I clicked the number and sent a text. He replied almost immediately.
Taylor: Hi. I saw the video on Twitter. Hope you’re okay.
Brody: Hell, this ain’t too bad. When I was in college, one of the linemen went streaking across campus on a dare. He spent four years seeing photos of his pasty white butt cheeks taped all over school! Compared to that, I can handle a little Twitter drama.
Taylor: LOL, that’s pretty embarrassing. But that doesn’t make tonight any easier for you. It must suck having your personal life out there for everyone to analyze.
Brody: Yeah, I won’t lie. It sucks real hard. I’ll ride it out until Twitter finds the next piece of drama to focus on.
Taylor: I’m really sorry about the way Eric acted tonight, too. He was a real asshole.
Brody: I wouldn’t have said so… but I’m not gonna disagree with you, either ;-)
Taylor: Next time, I’ll make sure he behaves.
I wrote the message without thinking, but as soon as I hit send, I began to wonder about it. Why would there be a next time? Eric was an asshole, and Brody didn’t seem like he had a good time. So why did I even bring it up?
Because I want an excuse to see Brody again, I realized.
My phone buzzed with a response from the football player.
Brody: I appreciate that. And hey, your text put a smile on my big ugly face. So, thanks for that.
Taylor: Your face isn’t ugly.
Brody: Damn, T-Foxy. You keep these compliments coming and I’ll start feeling like Fabio up in here.
Brody sent a GIF of Fabio posing with his hair blowing back in slow motion.
I laughed at the GIF, my problems with Eric already long forgotten.
