Sweet Rome (Sweet Home, #1.5)(20)
She never once looked my way as she spoke. The class was small and she met every pair of eyes in the room except mine. It got to me… really f*cking got to me.
“Bentham believed that this principle could be adapted to society as a whole and that it would function better if it operated on a system that considered the greatest good for the greatest amount of people. This is evident in many sectors of society, but a good example is the way we vote in a democracy. The majority vote benefits most people. Therefore, the majority of people in that society are happy, i.e. feel pleasure at the outcome, creating a more utilized society.”
After minutes of still getting nothing, not even a glimpse, I decided it was time to cut the shit and make her acknowledge me. What Shakespeare didn’t know was that I had a firm grasp of this topic. And I’d use it to show her I didn’t like to be ignored.
I waited until she paused in her lecture and let out a dramatic cough, edging forward in my seat and pretending to listen intently, purposely being obnoxious. Her eyes darted to mine and they narrowed. Perfect. I’d started to piss her off too.
“Where was I?” she said out loud, subtly glaring in my direction in admonishment. “Oh, yes. Today we will be discussing the concept of the pleasure-pain principle and whether humans really do function this way. I, for one, tend to agree in the most part with this theory—”
“Really?” I blurted, stopping her mid-flow. My classmates gaped at me from their seats. Yeah, I never participated in class. Hell, most of these people probably hadn’t heard me say anything in nearly four years of sitting in this room. I knew I had the reputation of a dumb jock, and what did I care? Let the f*ckers believe what they wanted. I was going to speak today, though, and it was all because I wanted a certain girl’s attention.
Molly had stopped still, the pulse in her neck beating furiously under her exposed skin. “Pardon?”
There it was, that fire, that spark she kept so well hidden. Taking my pencil, I rolled it in my fingers as if I didn’t give a shit and, by the look on face, succeeding in riling her up.
“I was expressing my surprise that you agree with Bentham, for the most part,” I said, exaggerating the last four words.
“Then the answer is yes, you heard correctly,” she snapped.
Christ, she looked even cuter when she was mad as all hell, and her attitude was turning me on. “Huh!” I muttered, biting on my pencil. The room was absolutely silent, and even the professor was watching us both with rapt attention.
Ally struck me with her elbow in my rib and hissed out, “Quit it, Rome. She ain’t finding you funny. Leave her the hell alone.” For a moment, I did feel a bit guilty, but I was having too much damn fun sparring to really give a shit.
“Huh, what? Romeo?” she queried with a bitchy smile. That stilled me, and any humor I had soon morphed into rage. She used that f*cking name, knowing exactly how I felt about it… and in public too? It was so far below a low blow it was arctic and I couldn’t believe she’d done that to me, didn’t believe her capable of being so damn mean.
Her eyebrow rose, a clear challenge, and I snarled. She wanted to play dirty? Game on.
Taking a deep breath, I said, “I just think it’s foolishly idealistic to think in such a way, Shakespeare, and for someone of your supposed intellect, I’m surprised it came out of your mouth at all.”
“Rome!” Ally warned quietly beside me, but I couldn’t stop myself. I had a burning desire to f*ck her off after calling me that bastard name so maliciously.
“I mean, look at the voting analogy you gave: greatest good for the greatest number of people. You mentioned how it was considered good for society, as most people would be happy with the result, but all I see are flaws. What if the ‘majority’ of the people voting are bad or have ill intent and the minority are innocent, and good people are put in danger due to the fact that they’re outnumbered? What if the person you voted in has ulterior motives and goes back on what they said they would do?”
She opened her mouth to butt in, but I kept going, raising my voice even louder so she couldn’t stop me in my tirade.
“Look at Hitler. He was elected by a democratic vote, and for a time, he was what was right for the majority of the people who were living in poverty with no real hope. But look how that ended… I’m just saying that although it seems good in theory, the practical side don’t really pan out, now does it?”
I tipped my chin arrogantly, challenging her to step up her game. Leaving the protection of the lectern, she marched forward, purposefully walking up the first two steps toward me, her hair bouncing, long brown strands falling into her eyes.
“For a start, do me the honor of letting me finish before rudely interrupting.” Her teeth were gritted together and her eyes alight with ire. “What I agree with is the idea that individuals do, in many situations, live for pleasure over pain, at least for the most part. Surely you’d agree with that, Mr. Oh-so-fantastic QB. Don’t you make the majority of your decisions based on your illustrious football career, something that brings you pleasure?”
So she was going to go for the jugular, try and bring me down. I wondered what the f*ck I’d done to deserve her wrath. “You’re right, I do, but I also do it for the spectators, for my teammates. They find joy in football, unlike some,” I said pointedly.