Kai and Will head straight to the back, while Liam and Christian take seats in my row. Liam plops down next to me with his usual easy grin.
“Hi, Adeline,” he says.
“Hi, Liam.”
His eyes take in my hair. “Cool braids. They look… damp.”
“I fell,” I admit.
“Figured it was something like that,” he says with a shrug.
Should I be offended?
“Give me your phone,” Liam says, holding out his hand.
“Why?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“Just give it,” he says, motioning impatiently, and against my better judgment, I hand it over. His fingers fly across the screen, and when he hands it back, I notice a new contact added.
“So you can ask me questions.” He smirks, pulling out a pen. Before I can ask what that means, his face shifts. He glances into his bag and freezes, his expression twisting into horror.
Liam pokes Christian, who’s sitting beside him. Christian leans over, glances into the bag, and immediately recoils. His entire face drops. “Why?” Christian whispers harshly, and I’m not sure what he’s glaring at more—Liam or whatever is in the bag.
I glance between them, trying to figure out if I’m about to witness a crime or just general stupidity. Liam doesn’t answer. He’s too busy staring into his bag like it might start hissing at him.
“You’re kidding,” Christian mutters. He looks over his shoulder and signals to Kai and Will, who are sitting in the back.
Kai leans forward, his brow furrowed. “Didn’t I tell you to put a fucking leash on it?” he mumbles.
Liam throws up his hands. “I did! I told you; it just slips right out.”
Will groans, dragging a hand down his face. “If it gets loose again, I’m not dealing with it.”
At this point, my curiosity is burning a hole in my brain, but Liam’s already bolted out of his seat, grabbing his bag and muttering something about the bathroom.
Mr. Anderson claps loudly then and I jerk upwards. I don’t even get a chance to look over to Christian and ask him what the hell that was, or why Liam was so panicked.
His hand freezes mid-air and I notice he’s holding the remote he always uses for presentations. “Now that I have all of your attention!” he announces, pressing a button on the remote. The wordsTerm Projectappear onto the screen in bold letters.
Oh, holy hell, not now.
He paces slowly before us. “Teamwork is the foundation of your academic and professional future. And collaborative work will help you build trust with your peers.”
Bit over the top, is it not?
I sigh. Oh, how I hate group projects. They’re a lot of work, a lot of compromises, and alotof headaches.
He takes a breath then continues. “Today, I’m pairing you up. And before you get too excited, you’ll be working with the person right next to you,” he says, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. All this corporate talk sounds like nothing more than a fancy way to say, “suffer together”.
Mr. Anderson’s gaze lands on me. “Since you’re a desk of three, and we are an odd number, you can work in a three,” he declares, sealing my fate.
Great. Just great. Of all the possible combinations… just why?
Before I can even register a protest, Mr. Anderson strides on, his tone annoyingly chipper. “Your task is simple. Create a business plan for ‘Campus Brew’. Design a coffee cart to give students a quick, affordable caffeine fix between classes.” Hethen goes on to detailing the basics: a menu of standard brews, cost analysis, a location plan, and a marketing strategy.
I glance sideways at Christian, and I know he sees me do it, but he doesn’t so much as acknowledge me. Too busy jotting down notes, I guess.
Or maybe he just doesn’t like you.
