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They expected us to know everything. We were supposed to waltz into their bedrooms and take control.
So, if they wanted your mouth down there, you did it—not because it was hot to you, but because you had to prove a point tothem.
You had to show them how good you were. A perfect size-two who could still chug beer and down sloppy Joes on Friday nights, who could suck cock like her life depended on it and look pretty even after waking up hungover. A 'cool' girl.
God forbid they found out you wereinexperienced, though. Oh, being a virgin wasn’t the bad thing—that was actually hot, as a drunk teenager-in-a-twenty-year-old had once tried to tell me. But what wasn’t hot was the equation.
Being a virgin meant you didn’t know how to give good head or couldn’t guide a cock when it was lost, looking for a way in. They weren’t supposed to know. You had toteachthem.
And I was done with that shit. I didn’t want to feel so inexperienced and so used at the same time. I knew I deserved more.
So when I prepared myself for class, I was already in a pretty bad mood. The astronomy classroom was something else, though. It could have been a surreal dream.
The walls were lined with pictures of constellations, and star maps adorned every surface.
Telescopes of all shapes and sizes were arranged neatly in a row, beckoning me to come and explore the mysteries of the universe.
I approached one of the telescopes, gazing up at the ceiling in awe. The room was circular, with a domed ceiling that revealed the night sky.
The ceiling was painted black, dotted with tiny pinpricks of light that looked like real stars. I couldn't believe that I was standing in this magical place, surrounded by so much beauty.
As I was lost in my own thoughts, a voice startled me. "Good morning, Rory! I see you've found your way to our little corner of the universe."
I turned to see the professor, Benjamin Moore, standing behind me with a warm smile. He was a tall man with kind eyes, and his voice had a gentle cadence.
In any other life, not the one being lived by Rory fucking Sullivan, I’d have thought this. I’d have actually said, “Hi, Professor. I love this room. I don’t believe in fate, but here I am. You can try changing my mind.”
But of course, I wasn’t anyone else. I was Rory, and the man in front of me was no stranger. He was the very guy I’d pelted into that night at the bar. LoverNumero Uno.
And fuck, from the way he looked at me, he remembered me too. Oh, this was the most embarrassing thing—and I spoke as someone who’d skidded into class like Mick fucking Jagger.
“I–I—”
To his credit, his smile did not diminish. And he did not make me feel any more uncomfortable than I already was. “I know your face.”
He grinned. “And my friends tell me you’re not very fond of the idea of fate. But if you’re here to change your mind, I’d say we’re off to a pretty good start.”
I blushed harder and almost ran to the back, where I sat down behind a tall girl with jet-black hair. The class was still sparse, but it filled up in the next couple of seconds.
“Now, class.” Professor Moore’s penetrating gaze seemed to go through the entire room and settle just on me. “Today, we’re talking about near-death experiences. I know the topic may throw some of you off-balance, but remember, we learn from everything around us.”
This didn’t sound like your run of the mill astronomy class at all.
“So, I used to know a girl,” he began, and the class immediately started snickering. The students evidently shared a good relationship with him. I could see why. His lopsided grin... there was a completely infectious energy about him.
“Now, now.” He wagged his finger at us. “It's not what you think. Not all love stories have to be romantic ones, you know?”
“Who was the girl, Prof?” a front-bencher asked.
“Let’s call her E. Once upon a time on a sunny day, E almost died. Almost.”
The room fell silent.
“It was a Monday afternoon. All of us agree on this one thing, right? The most annoying of incidents seem to happen on Mondays. Our girl used to think Mondays were cursed, but she didn’t have too many people to confirm her suspicions with.”
Professor Moore began pacing around the class animatedly, gesturing with his hands as he continued the story.
“But we people like sharing the things that most define us, right? And E, E had to share what she felt. So, she spoke of her Monday superstitions with her best friend—let’s call her Jen—who told her she was bonkers. The friend convinced her to try positive reinforcements instead of hating on Mondays.”
