“So, you think I’m charming?” That earns me a scowl from Will and my smile widens.
She crosses her arms and tilts her head. “Oh, come on, you know what that one smile is capable of doing and the trouble it’s gotten you in the past.”
Shrugging, I don’t correct her. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s pretty awesome.”
“Enough talk about Cameron’s charm, please.” Will rubs the temples of his forehead, and I laugh again at his obvious yet unnecessary jealousy.
Will, Zoey, and I were introduced to each other a handful of days ago by a mutual friend, Smith, while I was moving into my dorm. We got along pretty quickly. They’re the no-bullshit type of people. A rarity.
“Cam, don’t you have that bitch of a business class to get to?” Zo asks.
Zoey caught my eye the second I met her. Her dark brown skin, long curly hair, and hourglass figure turns heads in every room she enters. I tried hitting on her the night we met, and she turned me down in three seconds flat. Like I said, no bullshit. Although once I noticed that Will was crushing on her, I was happy to back off. They’ve been friends for about a year now, and nothing has ever happened between them, but the tension is palpable.
“Oh yeah, that’s Mills’s class, right?” Will’s tapping his foot and looking over the counter for his drink.
“Yes, and it starts in fourteen minutes. I have to leave now if I want to find a decent seat.” I reach over to find my drink where the app orders are, and a cute blonde hands me my coffee with a shy smile. I reciprocate the grin, making a mental note to come back once I have more time and finish what I couldn’t start today.
“Alright, bye, guys.” Giving Zo a quick hug, Will sneers at me, and I send him an innocent smile. As attractive as Zoey is, no means no, and once she told me no, I forgot about being anything other than friends with her.
“You want a hug too, Will? Looking a little lonely over there.”
“Fuck off, dude,” he sneers and gives me a quick fist bump. Zo lets out a small laugh and looks up at Will with adoration. These two are fucking idiots for not seeing what everyone else can.
I’m walking backward when I remind them about something. “I’ll text you guys about plans for later, sound good?”
“Yep,” they say in unison. I give them a nod and turn to start my walk towards the business building. Twelve minutes left till this miserable class starts. As usual, I’m right on time with coffee in hand.
Smith, my good friend back home, gave me some tips on this class during the summer after he graduated and also a heads-up about the absurd rules the professor has. I looked up the reviews that students left for her online as well to make sure he wasn’t exaggerating. If anything, he downplayed it. It’s hard work, but if you follow her rules, it’ll lead to a decent B plus. Like every other business major before me, I have no choice but to take this class. My future plans are set, and I’m sticking to them.
I enter the front doors of the building and look for the classroom on the second floor. The lecture hall was easy to find, seeing as I know this building like the back of my hand because of orientation weekend.
Now comes the decision of picking a seat. A permanent seat for the entire semester from what Smith told me. Three-quarters of them are already taken and other people are still looking. It seems like some are saving seats for friends with their bags. While searching all around the large room, I spot a pretty brunette staring right at me. She motions me over with the tip of her head, and I consider my options. Very forward of her. Shelooks like fun, we could always flirt a little while working together, it would definitely make things less boring, still it’s too much of a distraction.
After mouthingno thank you, she shrugs carelessly. At least she took the rejection well. I need someone who’s smart, focused, and definitely doesn’t want to flirt or fuck me and vice versa.
It’s then I notice that I’m still standing at the top of the room like a creep. I make my way down the aisles, looking left and right when I see bright red clothing against golden skin and a familiar side profile.
No. Fucking. Way.
Kamila fucking Morales in the flesh. Out of all the times I could’ve seen her, it has to be now? I already knew she went to Driscoll. Once photos of her and that Greymoore kid were plastered on the tabloids you find in the pharmacy, it was pretty difficult not to.
She’s highly focused on her phone, her hair much darker and longer than the last time I saw her. I look down at the tattoo on my forearm and years worth of memories make their way in, the good and the bad, before I sober up. I need to avoid her. I should avoid her. I shouldwantto avoid her. But something in me doesn’t want to. The tiny devil on my shoulder that’s been showing up for two years speaks up as if saying,you could have some fun with this. I’d be able to bother her and get into her head as much as she’s gotten into mine, which could lead to a distraction.
Do it,the little devil whispers.
All doubts are thrown aside when I see a guy walking towards her, surely to try and take one of the few free seats left in that row, maybe even the one next to hers. The tiny devil wins and I start following the shorter man getting closer and closer to the girl I used to know.
Smith would kill me for choosing this. It’s good he’s over eighty miles away.
I’m almost there when I hear him say, “Hey, is this seat taken?”
I observe her reaction and she shares a shy but flirty smile. Kamila always had an expressive face. She never could hide any emotions, and that obviously hasn’t changed since I can see that she clearly finds him attractive.
Kamila opens her mouth. “Actually, it isn’t?—”
“It’s taken.”
I keep my face casual, even though I surprised myself and them with the harshness in my tone.
