Professor Johnson's First Frat Party
All characters are over 18.
"Professor Johnson?" a vaguely familiar voice called out. "In my frat? Are you kidding me?"
I turned around to see Ronald Williams gawking at me in surprise.
"It
is
you!" he hooted. "Welcome Professor! I'm so glad to see you here!"
"Well, thank you Ron," I replied, "but I've told you many times - I'm not your professor. I'm just an undergraduate teaching assistant, right?" I felt my face turning red.
"Well, you're a professor to me," he smiled. "Can I get you a drink?"
*****
It wasn't until my junior year that I gave in to my friend Deidra's cajoling and agreed to go to a fraternity party. Doing so would allow me to finally experience that hallowed college tradition and, more importantly, get my friends and family to stop nagging me about "having a little fun once in a while." My boyfriend, Daniel, despised parties of any sort so we never participated, spending most weekends in his dorm room or the library. We had been together since the first week of freshman year and he was the only man I ever slept with. Now, however, he was away on his junior year abroad so I was free to make my own decisions regarding social activities.
Of course, I had no idea that of all the fraternities on campus, Diedra happened to choose the one in which Ronald Williams was a member.
Ron was one of the few upperclassmen in the freshman English class I was TA for - Twentieth-Century American Literature. He was majoring in Computational Analytics, or something of that sort, and registered for my class only to fulfill his core requirement; he made no secret of the fact that he didn't want to be there. He curried favor with the real professor, of course, but during the weekly group discussions that I led Ron was dismissive and arrogant. To make things worse, he was very intelligent and would rudely critique my and other students' opinions. I complained to the real professor about his behavior but he wouldn't hear it. He thought Ron was brilliant and that I needed to do a better job of leading the discussion.
Ron was also amazingly attractive. Six foot two, solidly built with blue eyes and sandy hair, and one of the better players on the University soccer team. He was smart, charming and good-looking and he knew it.
*****
"Here you go Professor," he said, offering me a red plastic cup. "Best Jungle Juice on fraternity row!"
"What is it?" I asked, eyeing the pinkish liquid suspiciously. "And please - call me Alice! You know I'm not an actual professor!"
"You will be one day!" he laughed, tapping his cup against mine. "Cheers!"
I rarely drank with Daniel, although occasionally we would share a bottle of wine. Nevertheless, in the basement of the frat house with laughter and loud music, Ron's blue eyes smiling at me, I tipped back the cup and took a healthy gulp.
Oh, my God!
I thought. It tasted like pure alcohol. Ron laughed when my eyes went wide, but I had to admit I enjoyed the burn in my throat. It was unfamiliar and exhilarating. I took another big gulp, bringing a look of surprise to Ron's face.
"Welcome to Sigma Epsilon Chi!" he laughed as he drained his drink and called to the bartender for refills.
"I think I'll sip this one slower, if that's allowable," I joked, not wanting to get as drunk as many of the other revelers seemed to be.
"Whatever works for you," Ron said reassuringly. With all the noise he had to lean in close to make himself heard. His looming presence was oddly exciting, as if he was creating our own private space amidst the madness of the crowded room. "I'm just glad you showed up!"
"I am too," I admitted demurely, smiling up at him. I could feel the alcohol helping me relax.
"You know," he added, bringing his face near to my ear. "I think having you here will allow you to understand me better."
"Is that so?" I challenged.
"Yes, it is," he maintained, nodding thoughtfully. "Think about the authors we read -- they use place to frame the narrative, right? The way Faulker does with Yoknapatawpha County in
As I Lay Dying
? Or Virginia Woolf and the frozen river in
Orlando?
It's all about the physical and cultural setting, don't you agree?"
I raised my eyebrows. "Impressive analysis, Mr. Williams. Seems you have quite a grasp of twentieth-century American literature."
"Thanks," he grinned. "I have a really good teacher."
There was a momentary lull in our conversation as I took a sip of my drink and found myself getting lost in Ron's blue eyes.
"And how exactly does my presence here increase my understanding?" I inquired.
"Well," he laughed. "You already knew I'm smart, right? Now you know I like to have a good time, too."