004: #TeamTreylar Or #TeamSherry

Everything is completely and utterly wrong this morning.

Why? I’ll tell you.

First, I woke up late due to the fact that my alarm apparently decided to go on a strike of its own. Second, because my dorm’s in a different time zone from the lecture halls, getting to class means either Jade drives me or I take the campus shuttle.

But since Jade never made it back last night, I was at the mercy of VSU transit. And that’s where bad turns to chaos.

I stood at the shuttle stop so long I started considering a career in statue modeling, but thankfully a bus finally decided to rattle up at the last minute. Honestly, it wouldn’t even surprise me if the drivers just decided to take the day off; You can practically count the number of people who actually use the campus shuttle on one hand.

VSU’s crawling with obnoxiously rich kids who drive insane cars. I, however, am very clearly not one of them. I’m a scholarship student, juggling two part-time jobs to barely survive and send money home for Mom’s treatment.

To make matters worse, the particular class I’m sprinting to is Abnormal Psychology. AKA the most miserable three hours of my week, taught by Professor Adams–the guy who treats failing people like a hobby.

It’s an “elective”. Alongside Intro to Music, Intro to Cooking, and Intro to Gardening. Thanks to my late scholarship paperwork, those easy ones filled up fast. So I got stuck with Prof. Adams.

Oh, and did I mention he absolutely despises tardiness? But somehow, just somehow, I always manage to be late for his class.

Sweating like crazy with burning lungs, I dash through the psych building. People actually pause to stare like they’ve never seen a human before, and quite frankly, I can’t even blame them. If I saw a frantic chihuahua in an oversized jumpsuit barreling down the halls, I’d stare too.

Finally reaching the lecture hall, I push the doors open with harsh breaths. Predictably, silence engulfs the room and all eyes fall on me.  

Up front, Professor Adams slowly lowers his dry-erase marker. “Ah, Miss Thompson. So glad you finally decided to join us. What’s the excuse this time? Let’s see… we’ve had the broken elevator, the library doors being mysteriously locked from the outside, and the classic 'my alarm clock suffered a localized power outage.' Which creative writing prompt are we exploring today?”

Oh c’mon, those were totally real! But trying to explain that to a man who looks like he eats syllabus guidelines for breakfast is a losing battle.

“I am so, so sorry, professor,” I grip my backpack straps tightly. “The campus shuttle took forever today, and I really tried to get here early, and it won’t happen again. I swear.”

“Right. Because I certainly haven't heard that one before.” Sighing, he waves a dismissive hand toward the tiered seating. “Take your seat, Miss Thompson.”

“Thank you,” I squeak, before hurrying up the stairs, making a beeline for the row where my purple-haired bestie and computer science major, who somehow also got trapped in this elective with me, is sitting.

As I approach the seat she always saves for me, I notice something weird: Jade is doing everything humanly possible to avoid making eye contact with me. She’s suddenly deeply invested in her polished fingernails.

I slide in next to her, but she still doesn’t look up.

Only when I clear my throat does she finally turn to me with a painfully forced smile. “Oh! Hey, girl! Didn’t see you there. When... uh, when did you get here?”

I just stare at her with one of my deadliest, most unimpressed glares, waiting for her to cut the bullflip.

Within five seconds, the intensity of my stare breaks her.

“Okay, okay! I am so sorry!” she bursts out in a frantic whisper, burying her face in her hands. “I am the worst friend on the planet! I am so incredibly sorry for ditching you at the bonfire last night. I am a horrible, terrible person.”

“You think?”

“I don’t even know what happened! It was like she casted a spell on me, Sky. Right after our make-out sesh, she all but dragged me straight back to her dorm. But I know, I know! That is absolutely not a valid reason to leave my bestie stranded in the middle of the woods.”

“I had to ride a two-wheeled death machine home, Jade.”

“I want to make it up to you! Please let me make it up to you.” Glueing her palms together, she gives me her famous puppy dog eyes.

Flip. That always folds me. “Ugh, fine. You’re buying my iced matcha lattes and pastries from Buns & Hots for the next two weeks. Deal?”

“Deal! Double deal! A million times deal!”

Satisfied, I pull out my notebook and try to actually focus on whatever Prof. Adams’ droning on about regarding personality disorders.

But I can’t focus, because now I can feel Jade drilling holes straight into the side of my face.

It gets so intense that I finally snap my head toward her. “What? Do I have something on my face? Seriously, everyone’s been looking at me like I’m a–”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Huh? “Tell you what?”

“Um... hello? About you and VSU's star quarterback?” Hissing, she closes in until our shoulders touch. “Mr. 'I’ll-murder-anyone-who-comes-within-an-inch-of-my-personal-space'? Girl, why the actual heck didn’t you tell me that you and Trey Parker are dating?!”

Oh gosh, not this. “I didn’t tell you because we are not dating,” I whisper frantically, trying to keep my voice down.

The look on her face says she’s absolutely not convinced. “Skylar Jamie Thompson. How long have we known each other?”

“Three years?”

“And how long have we been roommates?”

“Since freshman year.”

“Exactly! So why the fuck do you feel the need to lie to my face when there is a literal video of you and Mr. Dark-and-Dangerous having a scorching hot make-out sesh going viral right now?!”

My eyes go wide as saucers. “What?”

“Yeah. Hold on a sec.” She pulls her phone up from the desk, rapidly taps the screen, and shoves it in my face. “What do you call this?”

My breath halts at the sight that greets me. It is, indeed, a crystal-clear video of me launched at Trey Parker, our lips locked under the string lights of the bonfire. And it’s pinned to the very top of the school’s most popular blog–VSU: Very Spicy Update. Classy, I know.

But hold up. Is that– “A million views?!”

“Girl, forget the views,” Jade whispers excitedly. “Look at how it’s formatted!”

I look closer. Our video’s been placed side-by-side with that of Shawn and Cherry’s kiss from earlier that night. Above the two clips, a bold caption reads: WHICH VSU COUPLE BRINGS THE REAL HEAT?

Right below it is an active poll with two choices: #TeamTreylar or #TeamSherry.

“What the actual fudge?!” I whisper-shout, my face going up in flames.

“Yup,” Jade grins. “And you should see the comments. It is absolute warfare in there. People are—”

She doesn’t even get to finish her sentence before I snatch the phone from her hands and tear through the comment section.

She sure as duck wasn't lying. The comments are wild. A few people are trying to support Shawn, but they’re getting annihilated in the replies.

One particular thread catches my eye. A user named VSU_Football_Fan wrote: Sherry’s a real power couple tbh. Trey’s just brooding.

The reply underneath it has over 20k likes: Are you literally blind?! Did you see the way Trey was handling our girl? He was so smooth and gentle with her, unlike Shawn who looks like he’s trying to swallow Cherry’s whole fucking face up like a demented vacuum cleaner.

Another comment below it replies: Exactly! The way the big guy held her up… Nah. He definitely talks her through it. Ugh. I’m so jealous.

Just reading that has my girly bits clenching, and suddenly I’m flashbacking to Trey’s large hands on my butt, holding me up against him.

But wait. What is his actual history with intimacy? In my entire three years at VSU, I’ve never once seen Trey Parker with a girl. Or a guy. Could it be that he… isn't active in that department?

My face grows even hotter as soon as the thought crosses my mind. No. Definitely not it. That anaconda last night proved—

“Miss Thompson!” a booming voice nukes my scandalous daydream. My head snaps up to Prof. Adams who has his arms crossed tightly over his chest, staring dead at me. And once again, all eyes falls on me. “Is there something on that phone that you find more intellectually stimulating than abnormal psychology? Something you’d care to share with the entire class?”

“N-No! No, Professor,” I quickly shove Jade’s phone under my notebook. “I’m sorry, I was just—”

“No, no, please.” He points toward the front projector screen. “If it’s captivating enough to warrant completely ignoring my lecture, then it must be fascinating. Come down to the front, Miss Thompson. Bring the phone. Let’s project it onto the big screen so we can all benefit from your findings.”

Cue Jade’s look of horrified sympathy as I stand with jelly knees. As my wobbly fingers pick up the phone, my mind races through every possible scenario. If he projects that video, I will literally have to pack my bags, change my name, and move to a different country by noon.

I take one snail step down the stairs, but just as my foot’s about to kiss the third step, the doors to the hall fly open. The suddenness has everyone instantly sitting up, whipping to see who would dare disrupt Professor Adams’s class.

Standing in the doorway is a massive figure. Dark leather jacket over a black tee, dark pants, dark boots.

For the first time ever, I see Prof. Adams actually caught off guard. “M-Mr. Parker? What are you doing here? Last I checked, you are not registered for this course.”

No reply pours from Trey. His hooded gaze just dances over the crowded room. Only when his eyes lock on my frozen form does a wicked smirk grace his red lips. “I am now.”