I’m still looking at the dude in front of me when he turns. Glancing at Kamila, I see the realization of what is happening sink in. I smile internally at her reaction.
Yep, that’s right, Kami, you’re going to have to look at my face and listen to my voice, every week, twice a week for four fucking months. The little devil was right, this is going to be fun.
I turn my attention back to the boy, who clears his throat and looks like he’s about to piss his pants. Good.
“Sorry dude, d-didn’t know,” he says.
“Don’t sweat it,dude.” I clap his shoulder a little harsher than I meant to and he sprints. A small grin escapes me before I look at the girl I met four years ago, who is all grown up now.
“Well, if it isn’t the infamous Kamila Isabela Morales.” Taking my jacket off, I throw my backpack to the floor with a loudthunk.She jumps.
Such dramatics.
Her emotions are on full display and I can feel them radiating off her body. I can’t help but smirk at her when I see her wild eyes and red face. She really is bad at playing it cool. Although, to be fair, I’m pissed at her for what she’s done and for what she didn’t do. However, unlike her I’m not as obvious with my feelings.
When I realize that she hasn’t answered and goes back to being on her phone, clearly ignoring me, I decide to see how far I can push her.
“Come on, Kamila, you can’t just ignore me for the rest of the semester. These will be our permanent seats till December.”
Her eyes look like they’re about to burst out of her head when she lifts her face, and it takes everything in me to keep my laughter from spilling out.
Oh, this is great. She doesn’t know shit about Mills’s rules. Her eyes roam around the room probably looking for an empty seat while thinking of some sort of solution.
My grin widens. “Oh, haven’t you heard? Professor Mills hands out a seating chart during the first class of every semester where we write our names down. She doesn’t bother memorizing them, just calls us out according to the chart. So there’s no escaping me, Kamila. You’re going to have to get used to being near me.Again,” I whisper the last word, making it sound daunting as it should.
Her nostrils flare with confusion and anger. She looks back down, and I can practically hear the wheels turning in her head. She doesn’t believe me. She doesn’t trust me.
The feeling’s mutual.
“Okay, don’t believe me. You’ll hear it in a couple of minutes for yourself.” I cross my legs and lay back, getting comfortable. “This should be an interesting semester, don’t you think?”
If she keeps holding her phone the way she is, it’ll snap in half. It slams onto her desk as soon as the professor walks in. Well, shit, I guess she’s more pissed than I thought. It’s good to know that I have this effect on her even after all these years.
“Good morning, class. I am Professor Mills. You may only refer to me as Professor or Dr. Mills.”
Smith told me that she loves to be called Dr. Mills like she’s a real doctor just because she got her PhD in business. What a load of bullshit. Get a medical degree, Mills, and then we can talk.
She continues speaking and confirms exactly what I had told Kamila mere minutes ago about the permanently assigned seats. I can’t help but look over at her and smirk like a condescending asshole. I’m pleased to find that she’s glaring at Mills before shegoes back to taking notes. Does she not know that all of this is on the syllabus online?
Meanwhile, I go back to doodling. I already know all about the rules, assignments, and tests we’re going to have for the semester. Although I still catch some words here and there.
Eventually, I start bouncing my leg, desperate for this class to be over out of sheer boredom. After a couple of minutes, I feel a pair of eyes on me and look over to see Kamila staring with a curious look on her face. She averts her gaze.
Interesting. Very interesting. I wonder how long she was staring at me for.
She shifts in her seat for the hundredth time since we’ve sat down. She’s nervous and frustrated from what I can tell. And at this rate, she’s going to run through those doors any second now if she doesn’t calm the fuck down.
Mills mentions something that catches my attention. Nobody can use the restroom while in class. I don’t smile at that one, it’s inhumane. What if somebody needs to change their pad or tampon? What if someone isn’t feeling well? Hopefully someone throws up in the middle of one of her classes just to teach her a lesson.
Kamila’s reaction is similar to mine. It was meant to be a quick peek, but I stare at her for much longer than I intend to. I take in her appearance and how much it’s changed since that summer. Her former light brown hair is almost black, her eyelashes still long and full, lips painted red, her favorite color, to match her shirt and some black leggings along with sneakers that show a bit of her ankle. I’m able to see most of the tattoo that matches mine and that causes me to rear back up to her face to find her staring back at me. I scan her from head to toe one more time. Confused at my own actions, I turn back to my desk, hoping that I kept a neutral face.
Why did you check her out like that? She’s your ex’s sister. She’s a bad person.
I barely pay attention to the rest of the class, knowing I’ll beable to read everything I need to in the textbook. Finally, it ends and I pack my shit up. I stand about to leave, before saying goodbye to Kamila.
“Well, Kamila, I guess I’ll see you this Friday.” My smile is a grim one. “Bye, Kam.” She narrows her eyes at me. Apparently, her hating being called that hasn’t changed.
I leave the lecture hall and walk to the exit to my second class in the Liberal Arts building. “Decode” by Paramore plays through my headphones. Of course, out of the three hundred songs on my everyday playlist, this one comes up for the first time in months. My mind drifts to the summer after senior year. The bonfire after-party on the beach, booze, fights and—before I finish my last thought, there’s a harsh tap on my arm. Looking behind me and then down, I find Kamila right before my eyes.
