Chapter 4
Chapter Four
CAMERON
1 hour and 40 minutes earlier
“ C am, over here!” Will waves at the back of the cafe like an idiot, with an annoyed-looking Zoey next to him.
“Hey Will, what’s up?” We clap hands, and I lean over to kiss Zo’s head. Will shoots me a nasty look over his shoulder while I fight a smile. He’s terrible at hiding his jealousy towards his crush.
He fidgets with Zoey’s hair and pulls her closer to him, clearly claiming her. “We’ve been waiting for our orders that are taking forever. Hope you aren’t in a rush.”
I lift my phone, showing him the app where I put my order in twenty minutes ago. He gives me a nod. “Wish I would’ve thought of that.”
“Will you stop playing with my damn hair already?” Zoey swats his hand away and takes a step back.
“Ow.” Will pouts, looking like a hurt little puppy.
“I know you get all worked up about being even a second late to class, but you need to chill.” Zo fixes her untamed curls .
“Yeah, Will, listen to the lady and chill.” I look down at Zo and give her a wink with a smile. She rolls her eyes.
“I told you I’m immune to your charm, Cam.”
“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. She looks 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 mouthing no 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 should want to 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.
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 loud thunk. 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 she goes 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 be able 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.
Um, okay?
I play it cool and give her an amused look. It’s wiped right off when a blast of searing pain shoots up my balls and up to my fucking soul. I hunch over, confused about to say something until a small yet strong fist knocks me straight in the face.
“What the fuck?!” I yell.
“Jesus Christ, is your face made from steel?!” she screams back like this is all my fault. She says something else, but I tune her out, trying to see where the fuck to go from here.
Managing to open the eye that wasn’t hit, I find that she’s no longer here. Since when does Kamila use physical violence? I can’t go to class with a bruised eye, especially on the first day. My mind finally forms a coherent thought, and I start heading towards the health center on campus. Fucking Morales women man, just when you think they can’t get any worse.