Chapter 3
Chapter Three
KAMILA
P rofessor Mills’s class. The Basics of Business Law. The class that will forever be useful for the future of my career and yet one that I am absolutely dreading. Note to self: never forget to check a professor’s ratings done by students ever again. They’re almost never wrong and an overall two out of five stars is just awful.
The Business building is one of the oldest and most beautiful on campus. I stop a couple of feet away to admire it. There’s a brick exterior, a bell tower on the top, and ivy along the sides. It’s all brought together with its multiple windows and white detailed framing around them. Maybe I’ll be able to get a seat next to a window in the lecture hall. The view might help with the empty feeling I’ve had in the pit of my stomach since I woke up this morning.
Entering the white wooden doors, I make my way up the stairs to the second floor. Once I find the room, I’m surprised at how big it is. It has multiple rows of long tables that are curved inwards, forming almost half an oval with multiple chairs in each of them.
There is only one other person in the room. Some girl who seems to be asleep with her head resting on a pile of textbooks. I can’t really blame her. The first couple days of classes are absolutely draining. I decide to mind my own business and look for a seat.
Professor Emily Mills might have a reputation of being a terrible person, yet her classes are always full due to her connections. That’s why I’m here twenty-five minutes early.
The far-left side of the room seems to be the best option for a good seat. I find a good spot in the middle row beside the wall, that way, I’m cornered next to the window where the sunlight flows through but doesn’t hit me directly in the face.
Seeing as it’s still early, I reach for my phone and scroll through it, waiting for class to start. Fifteen minutes pass by before the sound of people’s footsteps and voices slowly fill the room. My eyes remain glued to the screen. I’m usually a very social person and would be talking to someone by now if most of the people here weren’t business majors. Jake warned me about them, saying most of the guys were not to be trusted. David was a business major, so to say he was right is an understatement.
I’m texting Levi back when someone’s voice sounds next to me.
“Hey, is this seat taken?”
Looking up, I find a gorgeous man with light brown eyes and a buzzcut. He’s smiling, and I can tell he would make this class a little less miserable, even if he might be a business major. Maybe we’ll just stick to being classmates who flirt occasionally.
“Actually, it isn’t?—”
“It’s taken.”
That voice. I know that voice. Slowly, I raise my eyes to the person who just spoke and there he is.
Cameron fucking Kahlo.
Suddenly, that old nausea sets back in.
The gorgeous stranger turns around and looks up at Cameron, who is at least half a foot taller than him.
“Sorry dude d-didn’t know,” he stutters.
Cameron smiles cruelly. “Don’t sweat it, dude .” He gives the guy a harsh clap on the shoulder and the man quickly moves away from him.
“Well, if it isn’t the infamous Kamila Isabela Morales.” He throws his bag on the floor, causing me to jump the tiniest bit.
Don’t let him get to you, Kamila. He’s not worth it.
I look him directly in the eyes while confusion, shock, resentment, and anger course through me. My emotions must be obvious because he hasn’t wiped the stupid smirk off his face since he sat down. My face heats, the blood in my veins boiling.
Ignore him.
That’s what I have to do. He’s getting under my skin by eye contact alone, and I refuse for him to have that much of an effect on me. I don’t care how childish it might be because if I open my mouth right now, who knows what’ll come out. This isn’t the time or place.
“Come on, Kamila, you can’t just ignore me for the rest of the semester. These will be our permanent seats till December.”
What? My eyes widen as I do a quick scan of the classroom and end up seeing that there are no seats left. Shit. I know in classes everyone has an unspoken agreement on choosing their seats the first day, but I can easily change mine on Friday when I have this class again, right?
Cameron must read the confusion on my face.
“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 ,” he whispers.
Looking back down at my phone, I try my best not to show any emotions even though I’d rather cut off my own foot than sit next to Cameron all semester. I won’t believe it until I hear the words directly from the source. If not, then I have to come up with some sort of excuse for the professor to change my seat .
“Okay, don’t believe me. You’ll hear it in a couple of minutes for yourself.” He shrugs carelessly.
It’s creepy how well he’s reading me. A little over two years ago, it wouldn’t have surprised or bothered me, but still, I’ve changed. And from what I’ve seen so far today, he has too, but not in a positive way.
His legs are crossed while he lays back lazily, giving me a lop-sided smile. “This should be an interesting semester, don’t you think?”
My fingers clench around the phone till my knuckles turn white. I drop it on the table once I hear the professor coming in. Everyone goes quiet while she lays her bag down and gets the projector ready. I block all thoughts of Cameron and focus my attention on her.
“Good morning, class. I am Professor Mills. You may only refer to me as Professor or Dr. Mills.”
Oh God she’s one of those professors.
“Today we will be going over the syllabus and rules of the class. We will not be doing introductions; I find them unnecessary and a waste of time. First thing is first, the seats where you are now will be the ones permanently assigned to you for the entirety of the semester. There is a seating chart currently going around where you will write your name on the seat of which you are in. I will be calling on you to answer my questions according to that same chart. Therefore, I expect you to remain where you are.”
Cameron’s eyes are boring a hole through my side profile, and I know that he’s feeling smug as hell.
What I wouldn’t do to wipe that look right off him.
Why does he want to sit next to me after everything that’s happened in the past and why is he provoking me? I’m the one who should be mad, not him.
The professor continues to speak. “The classmate that you are sitting next to will be the person you will be working with for the rest of the semester on class assignments. There will be no group assignments outside of class except for the big debate. We’ll be going into more detail about that around the middle of the semester since it will be worth thirty percent of your final grade.”
The feeling of needing to scream while stomping around like a child is strong. I shuffle in my seat to relieve some of the tension in my body, and it does nothing to ease it.
“You must participate during these lectures. Asking questions does not count, but you must answer them when asked. Other professors might say there are no stupid questions, I disagree.” She drones on and on while I take notes on her ridiculous rules.
“There will be a test every other Friday until the end of the semester, all worth forty percent of your grade.” I shake my head. This is worse than I thought.
Cameron’s leg starts to bounce against mine, distracting me. He’s doodling in his notebook, clearly not paying any attention to Mills. I’m about to shove his leg when I spot the star tattoo matching mine on his forearm. The memory of that day hits me like a ton of bricks and I look up to see his side profile. The sight of his silver eyebrow piercing catches me off guard like most things about his new appearance. It wasn’t there the summer we stopped talking. He catches me staring, and I quickly look away.
Shit. How long was I looking at him for? I need some air. I’ll sneak off to the bathroom to splash some water on my face in a minute.
The professor’s voice grows louder, stealing my attention.
“There will be no bathroom breaks. This class is only an hour and fifteen minutes long twice a week. Go beforehand.”
What the hell? What if someone has their period? What if someone gets sick? This woman is crazy.
“Drinks and food will not be allowed. Cellphones, tablets, and/or computers will not be needed as everything will be handwritten in class. And last but most certainly not least, there will be no talking of any kind until it is time to work with your partner. All of this is repeated within the syllabus. Therefore, any questions you may have will be answered there.”
This professor is a real piece of work. Her rules make it sound as if we’re back in middle school.
I fidget with my pen and take another peek at Cameron to see his reaction to all of this. Only when I do, he’s already looking at me. He scans me from head to toe. His eyes avoiding mine with a blank expression. My stomach dips, and after three seconds, he goes back to doodling.
What the hell was that?
“I will expect one person from each group to have the textbook by this Friday and everyone to have it by next Tuesday.”
The class goes on with Mills giving a brief review of what she is going to teach us this semester. This is a disaster. My GPA has never been below 3.7, and I don’t plan for this class to change that, even if it does mean working with Cameron twice a week…every week…for the rest of the semester.
Kill me. Kill me now.
Finally, after what feels like much more than an hour and fifteen minutes, the professor announces that class is over. There are sounds of people shuffling and zippers opening. I keep my head down and put my stuff away swiftly, wanting to get out of here as fast as I can without drawing attention to myself.
“Well, Kamila, I guess I’ll see you this Friday.” Reluctantly, I look at the source of the voice. Cameron gives me an evil smirk. “Bye, Kam.” I narrow my eyes. He only used to call me Kam as a joke to annoy me playfully. Now, it sounds taunting.
Thankfully, he leaves before I finish putting my things away, giving me the opportunity to go to my next class in peace. Why did I let him get on my nerves so much? Why did he get to have the last word?
It’s because you didn’t say anything, you idiot.
My anger and frustration worsen as I walk to the front exit of the building. Once my foot is out of the front door, I feel my lungs fully expand as I take in a deep breath of fresh air, relaxing slightly. The anxiety has dimmed, but the anger remains. In fact, it’s gotten worse.
There is no way I’m capable of ignoring his taunting comments. He’s never spoken to me in such a condescending tone before. Nostrils flaring, teeth grinding, I spot him walking to the Liberal Arts building.
Rather than taking the time to think my actions through, I jog towards him. It takes me a minute to catch up to where he is due to our height difference, but once I’m about three feet away from him, I freeze, second guessing what I’m about to do.
The hell with it.
He’s about to open the door when I tap one of his arms. Cameron turns around and looks down at me with a mix of surprise and amusement. Before I know it, I knee him in the groin. He grunts and bends over in pain. I take his body position as an opportunity to clock him right in the face, sending pain throughout my entire hand and forearm.
“What the fuck?!” he yells.
“Jesus Christ, is your face made of steel?!” I scream while shaking my hand, knowing it’ll leave a bruise. Composing myself long enough to get my next words out, I point to the man still cupping his eye. “Don’t mess with me, Kahlo.” I walk away before he’s able to say anything else, concerned that that was what it took for my body to relax.