Selma was sitting at home with her bum ankle up on a pillow. Birdie and Ian were playing cards and Selma was trying to study for her final exam in Victimology and was seriously stressed. After getting trampled at O’Reilly’s Pub, Blake had taken her to the hospital. Her ankle was broken and she had missed a lot of school.
“I can’t believe Dr. Marvel is refusing to work with me on this,” Selma whined.
Birdie and Ian nodded. They had heard these complaints a million times now. Selma’s Victimology professor was a hard-ass and wasn’t cutting her any slack for missing school because of her ankle. She was going to do fine on the final exam, but was really struggling with the final paper and he was reluctant to give her an extension.
As she sat on the couch and fumed, she decided to try and talk to Dr. Marvel one last time. She went to her room and did her hair and makeup and put on a sexy dress. The way she saw it, Dr. Marvel was a lonely shrimp of a man. He probably hadn’t had a date in 10 years or more. Maybe this strategy was worth a try. She had been debating it all semester and, at this point, she was desperate. How would she get into grad school if she didn't get an "A" in this class? The pressure was too much for her.
After she was finished getting ready she told Ian and Birdie where she was headed. The two of them looked at her suspiciously.
“You’re not doing what I think you’re doing are you?” Ian asked, one orange eyebrow raised.
“Doing what?” Selma asked innocently.
Ian sighed. He knew that his friend Blake had developed feelings for Selma over the past month—ever since he “rescued” her from the fire. He wished he could get it through Blake’s head how non-monogamous Selma tended to be.
Selma wrapped her black peacoat around her black dress, fishnet tights, and one black thigh-high boot. Her broken ankle was still in her black support boot.
“I’ll be back in an hour or two,” she said and hobbled out the door.
Birdie and Ian continued playing cards. Birdie sighed.
“I hope she’s not going to his office thinking she’ll get a passing grade if she flirts with him or, you know,” Birdie said.
“I know. Sometimes she just takes things too far,” Ian replied.
Thirty minutes later Selma walked through the front door. Her eye makeup was streaked down her cheeks and she was crying. She wouldn’t say a word to Birdie and Ian about what happened but instead went to her room and slammed the door shut. No cajoling or encouragement from Birdie or Ian would draw her out her room for the next day and a half.
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