Jared filed into his seat just before Dr. Bhavsar arrived. Her eyes scanned the room, pausing when they landed on me in my new seat. “Good morning, class. Your syllabus says we’re going to talk about Ralph Waldo Emerson, the father of the transcendentalist movement. Can someone please tell me what the transcendentalist movement is?”
Someone a few seats down from me spoke up. “It’s an idealistic system of thought. It says that humanity is innately good. It also focuses on the supremacy of insight over logic and suggests that experience leads to the revelation of one’s deepest truths.”
“Congratulations, you can read a textbook,” Dr. Bhavsar said dryly before pulling up a powerpoint and continuing. “Ralph Waldo Emerson was a champion of individualism. He rejected the pressures of society and shared his views through essays, poetry, and lectures. He believed in intuition and imagination. He believed that people could be their own authority when deciding what is right.”
Dr. Bhavsar clicked the powerpoint and smiled at me. “Have you ever trusted your intuition more than logic, Vera?”
I swallowed. Yes. Yes, I had. Logic was telling me that Hamilton was a train wreck about to destroy me. “Yes,” I admitted.
In the front row, Jared snorted. “I wouldn’t call being horny intuition,” he said under his breath but still loud enough for me to hear.
Fucking prick. Dr. Bhavsar cleared her throat while scowling at Jared. “Emerson believed that our potential was limitless. Do you think that humans are capable of determining what is right without the influence of authority figures, organized religion, government, social institutions, and industrialization? Does a man who lives alone in the woods know not to murder if he’s never taught that it is wrong?” she asked. “Emerson believed we should radically seek answers through our own experiences. We stop ourselves from finding our higher selves if we allow outside influences to make our decisions for us.”
“We can’t just throw out logic for feeling,” Jared scoffed. “What if our thoughts are skewed? What if we make a mistake? Just because something feels right, doesn’t mean it is right.”
Dr. Bhavsar looked like she was trying to remain calm. “I’m not here to tell you what school of thought to follow. I’m just here to teach you different philosophies and how they shape the world we live in. Emerson challenged many antiquated views. He was a supporter of women’s rights and was an abolitionist, too. Sometimes you have to challenge the rules and follow your own intuition of right and wrong. It’s what leads to change. If we all allowed the powers that be to dictate our goodness, we could end up stagnant in a morally bankrupt society. An individual isn’t as easily corrupted as a group. Emerson’s entire platform was to look within for the answer.”
“Sounds like some hippie shit,” a frathole beside me said.
The rest of the lecture continued, with less class interaction, but I continued to think about what Dr. Bhavsar had said. I had to stop thinking about how a relationship with Hamilton would affect my mother or how it would look to the rest of the world. I knew that what we shared had the potential to be great. It felt right. He felt right.
When class ended, I practically sprinted to the parking lot where Hamilton was parked. I circled his car and ripped open the driver’s side door, greeting his surprised face before motioning for him to stand outside.
The leaves were beginning to fall around me. Cars swerving through the parking lot honked at us. A brisk chill traveled down my spine. I’d never felt so utterly present in my entire life. “Are you okay?” Hamilton asked while unbuckling and standing up. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and his eyebrows shot up. I brazenly pressed my lips to his. He wrapped his arms around my trembling body and deepened the kiss. Tongues tasting. Hands roaming. Moaning. The wind picked up my hair as I lifted up on my toes and arched my back to get closer to him. On and on it went until finally, Hamilton pulled away and cupped my cheeks. “What was that for?”
I licked my lips, tasting traces of mint. “Just following my gut,” I replied with a smile before wrapping him up in a huge hug and pressing my cheek against his chest.
“Oh? And what does your gut say?”
Pulling away, I looked up at Hamilton. My gut was telling me that this thing between us would be great. It was telling me that he was worth it. That he wouldn’t hurt me. That if I allowed myself, I could fall for him.
But I wasn’t ready to tell him all of this just yet. “Oh, nothing,” I replied before lifting up on my toes and kissing his jaw once more. “Let’s go back to your place, yeah?”
Hamilton nodded. “Okay, Petal.”
21
It was scary how easily we settled into a routine. We hadn’t talked about the fact that I kept clothes at his place and a toothbrush in his bathroom. It didn’t feel like domestic bliss—an intimate step forward in our relationship where our spaces merged in tune with our souls. It felt like a vacation. A blissful escape from my mother’s texts, which had become more and more sparse. It was a reprieve from Jared’s judgmental looks and my own insecurities. I was following my gut, and my gut led us through five days of peace.
Last night, Hamilton seemed off, though. We still fucked like our lives depended on it, and he spent a majority of the evening holding me close. But something was off. It was like a shift in energy—a change in dynamic I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Something was up, but I didn’t know what.
“I’m taking you on a date tonight,” Hamilton said the moment I got into his car. He had made a habit of
