Stellar

Testicular Adjustments

Dan's POV

I pulled my sunglasses down over my eyes as I walked out of the local Starbucks and onto the Columbia University campus, a salted caramel macchiato in one hand, a small folded piece of paper in the other.

I'm assuming the barista who had been eye-fucking me the entire time I was in the shop had decided to slip me her phone number. As kind of a gesture as it might have been, I slipped it into the first bin I saw without even opening it.

You're probably thinking wow, that's rude. You're a twat. You're probably right. It was rude, and perhaps I am a twat, but I could tell, in those fifteen minutes of being visually undressed and violated, that I wasn't interested.

Not because she was unattractive; she was definitely attractive. More so because I could tell that if I had an actual conversation with her I would probably want to chuck myself in front of a moving automobile, because that probably wouldn't be as painful as listening to her talk.

Oh come on, surely I can't be alone in getting those kinds of vibes from people. I know you've looked at someone before and thought to yourself that looks like the most annoying person on the planet.

Even if she didn't look annoying, she definitely looked like a teenager. Although I might not look much older, bloody dimpled baby face of mine, I am.

I'm 25 and from what I've been told, I don't look a day over 17. At work, I've actually been confused as a student. Several times.

Twice that day and I was sure it would happen again, as that was where I was heading. Back to my classroom, to teach. That was still so bloody bizarre to me. You have no idea. This time last year I was one of them. A lazy, slightly immature, internet addicted grad student.

Okay, so the only thing that had really changed was the fact that I wasn't a grad student, or a student at all. I was still lazy, immature, and a hardcore internet junkie.

It was actually kind of shocking that they hired me, to be honest. I wanted to ask the dean if he had a few screws loose or something, but my brother Phil advised against it.

I was teaching lower level Philosophy and upper level English at one of the finest Universities in America.

Which lead me to one question: What is my life?

Really though. I was foul-mouthed, sarcastic, and one of my favorite pastimes was provoking people. I'm not sure why, but I loved verbal confrontation. Nothing too serious, of course, as I'm not really someone who's looking for an actual physical fight.. but I love pissing people off and making them feel stupid.

Why would they even consider me? I have no idea. But they did and now I'm here.

Since the Starbucks was on campus, it didn't take me long at all to get back to the Philosophy building. That was literally the name of the building, by the way. Philosophy. There was even a replica of The Thinker outside of it.

I stopped by my office to get my briefcase and a copy of my lecture notes that I probably wouldn't use. Monday I had a very detailed lecture I was going to give involving the sayings of Voltaire, but a very frustrating student got me started on something else entirely. Odds were, she would do it again; if she even showed up, that is.

I believe the odds were against me on that one, though, since I'd met her roommate who most likely went back to her and told her all about what I'd said about our... interesting first meeting.

That was actually a great example of my love of provoking people. She had showed up late, which could have been easily overlooked if I could actually stand the thought of rich entitled twats running around doing whatever they please with mummy and daddy's money. Obviously I couldn't.