Leila
As much as I love a man on his knees, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.
His grunts make me wince when I notice the green liquid dripping off his jacket. My hand flies to my mouth, my eyes widening when I see the aftermath of my bad decision from last night.
“I’m so sorry.” I crouch down, extending a hand to the man on the ground, cursing at me, the world, and smoothies.
He shakes my hand off, glowering at me. “Just drop it,” he says, shaking off the spilled drink from his t-shirt. “I’ll get up on my own.” He lifts off the ground, staring down at this drenched t-shirt.
“I really am sorry.” I attempt to smooth over this situation, but the way he scowls at me lets me know nothing I do can rectify this, especially when he curses at me before walking off.
“What just happened?” I hear Rosie’s voice coming from my phone, clutched in my hand beside me.
I lift it to my ear and exhale, letting my eyes close. “I’m a disaster this morning.”
“Fill me in,” she says. “I heard a bunch of grunts and cursing.”
The spilled drink on the ground brings a sigh out of me as I head towards the classroom. “I wasn’t looking where I was going, is what happened.” I let out a breath. “Bumped into some guy; he fell over; I died of embarrassment. The end.” I let out a sigh. “That’s the last time I hook up at a party.” She snorts on the other end, which makes my lips twitch. “Fine, it’s the last time I leave so late,” I amend.
“Who did you leave with?”
I chew on my bottom lip. “Some jock.”
“Nice name,” she muses. “Has a ring to it.”
I let out a laugh. If only I had snuck out a little earlier, I wouldn’t be in this mess. “I can’t believe I forgot to turn my alarm on.” I walk a little faster, pulling my phone away from my ear to check the time. “Now I’m late, and I lost my green smoothie.”
“You still went to get a smoothie when you’re late?”
“I need all the energy I can get if I’m going to be bored to death for an hour.”
She laughs. “So dramatic. Is it really that bad?”
“Extremely,” I sigh. “Remind me again why I haven’t dropped out?”
“Your mom would kill you?” she offers.
Right. Well, it’s not like my mom doesn’t have another daughter she prefers, anyway. “And I care because?”
“Because even if you try to not let it affect you, you know you care about what she thinks.”
Well, damn. She’s right again. “Are you sure you want to go down the designer route?” I joke. “You’d be a good therapist.” My shoulders drop when I see the door to my impending boredom.
“Of course I would, but then who would dress you?”
I snicker, reaching for the door handle. “I’ve got to go; I’m about to go in.”
“Have fun.”
Not likely.
The line goes dead, and I pocket my phone. My breath shortens before I take the plunge and pull the door open, heading inside. The room quiets when over 50 heads turn to look at me. This, right here, makes me want to die.
Their eyes on me feel like a huge spotlight of judgment. You would think with my line of work, I’d be used to the attention, but I’m not.
My confidence slips a little, the roaring in my stomach an indication of the anxiety brewing inside of me.
“Leila. I see you don’t value my time,” Professor Wilson says, making the spotlight on me even brighter.
I swallow, blink, and slip my mask back on, squaring my shoulders and give him a smile. “Sorry, sir. Won’t happen again.”
“Doubt that,” a low voice says to my right. My eyes drop, seeing Jordan Wright sitting at the table closest to the door. He doesn’t look my way, though. He never does.
The one and only person I can stand in this class, Mia—who happens to be sitting near him—shoots me a smile and calls me over. I take a seat next to her, placing my bag on the floor.
“Where were you?” she whispers, nudging me on the shoulder when the professor turns back around.
“Forgot to set my alarm,” I offer with a shrug.
With a smile on her lips, she shakes her head, probably knowing there’s more to the story. She’d be right.
“Having a great product isn’t always the end result,” Professor Wilson drones on, making my eyes glaze over. “Marketing is the main focal point of any business. You could have the best product in the world, but no one would know if you didn’t market it.”
Yeah, I’ve heard it all before. It would be easier to figure out what exactly I preferred over business, but therein lies the problem. I don’t know what I want. I’ve always admired my dad running a business. It seemed so cool when I was younger, but then my mom got me into modeling, and that became my life.
She stopped pushing me into modeling once I had gone through puberty and gained a lot of extra pounds that made me inadequate for the modeling she wanted. Modeling was fun and I loved dressing up and posing for the camera; so I didn’t give up. I found a plus-size modeling agency and haven’t looked back since.
But by then, my mom had already made up that I wouldn’t go anywhere if I didn’t lose weight, so she pushed a college degree on me. I didn’t mind it, I could do both, but the problem was, I didn’t know what I wanted to do once I got here, so I settled on something I already had knowledge of. Business. Too bad it’s a bore.
“The papers on the end of the table have the assignment on them,” Professor Wilson says. Mia reaches for the papers on her end, handing one to me and Jordan. She hands one to the guy sitting next to her, Toby… something. She tucks her straight hair behind her ear, smiling at him when she hands him the assignment. Hm, little Mia has a crush.
“New boyfriend?” I tease, dropping my voice so only she hears.
She glances up at me. “It’s nothing.”
I shrug. “I could smell the sexual tension from here.”
She shushes me, a small laugh escaping her while she stuffs the assignment in her bag.
When the door opens, everyone’s head turns to the noise.
Aiden Pierce.
Redfield’s basketball captain.
I grew up watching basketball. Every Sunday, when my dad was home, we’d sit on the couch and watch the game while he snuck me some alfajores from his food truck. My mom would have slapped me on the back of my head if she caught me eating them.
And when I came here, the tradition still stood. Even though I couldn’t be with my dad on Sundays, I would still attend every basketball game I could, which means I’ve watched Aiden play. A lot.
And as much as I don’t like admitting it, he’s good, like really fucking good. It could be an advantage because the guy is as tall as hell, but it’s not; he has skill. I can appreciate that.
But what I’m not a fan of? How everyone treats him like he’s a God around here. Girls fall at his feet, fanning themselves whenever he’s near, and he eats it up; of course he does. A guy like that can get any girl he wants with a snap of his finger.
“Aiden,” Professor Wilson sighs. “Class started thirty minutes ago.”
“Sorry, sir,” he says with a shrug. “I had early practice this morning. It ran over.”
Professor Wilson sighs again and turns back around.
Add that to the list of things I’m not particularly fond of.
He gets special treatment.
“We’ve already assigned assignments,” Professor Wilson says. “Grab one from the table closest to you.”
Which would make it mine.
Oh joy.
Aiden sits beside Jordan, grabbing the piece of paper Mia hands over to him. He winks at her and stuffs it in his bag.
“We didn’t have practice this morning,” Jordan whispers, which makes my ears tip up.
Aiden grins. “He doesn’t know that.”
A liar too. How the list keeps expanding. A scoff escapes me before I can stop it, which makes both Jordan and Aiden turn to face me. My skin burns under the examination of his blue eyes burning into mine. It’s not fair. He can’t be tall, talented, and attractive. Pick one.
His eyebrows lift when he sees me.
Seeing as our best friends are dating, you’d expect us to have met before, but that hasn’t happened yet.
The corner of his lips tips up in a smirk, which makes my eyes drift to them. Good lips too. Asshole. “Leila Pérez.”
My name on his lips has my head spinning. I lift an eyebrow at him. “Do I know you?”
He laughs, fixing the hat on his head. “You’re Rosie’s friend, right?”
“Yeah.”
He smiles, leaning forward on the table. “She’s told me about you,” he offers.
I nod. “Unfortunately, I can’t say the same.”
He laughs, which makes me glance at him. “What’s with the hostility? Did I do something?”
I blink. “I’m sorry. Did you want me to get on my knees and bow for you?”
His tongue darts out to trace his bottom lip, and he lets out a low laugh. “Well…”
I roll my eyes. “Forget it.”
“The assignment is due in two weeks,” Professor Wilson says. “I expect you all to put in the work. Class dismissed.”
Thank God. I pick up my bag, stuff the paper inside, and push the door open. I reach for my phone to meet up with Rosie, but a familiar, annoying voice stops me.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
I lift my head, seeing my roommate from hell standing in front of me, her arms crossed as she looks at me.
The lack of my smoothie is really taking its toll on me. I don’t have the energy to deal with this today. “I’ve been busy.”
“Your plants are all dead,” she states, making my heart break a little. “You haven’t been over all week, and they’re not mine to take care of. Where the hell have you been sleeping?”
“With friends.”
Her face contorts, judgment and disgust painted all over it. “Sleeping around for a bed? Really?”
I would have thought I’d be used to the judgment from her already when she has said so many more degrading things before, but the shock is still there. “I don’t have time for this.” I try to push past her, but she stops me.
“If you’re not coming back, I need your room.”
“For what?”
She shrugs. “For my stuff. It’s hard living from one dresser.”
I restrain the urge to roll my eyes. “Oh, the travesty.”
“And your clothes take up so much space,” she emphasizes, making me want to punch her. Just a little. Fine, a lot. “Can you do it?”
“Do what?” I don’t even know what she’s talking about; I just want to get rid of her.
“Move out.”
Move out? Lord knows I want to, but I pay for that room. Granted, I barely use it anymore, but I can’t crash at Gabi and Madi’s forever. “And where am I going to go, Tiffany?”
She shrugs. “With those friends of yours. Or you could ask for a transfer.”
“Trust me. I’ve tried.” No one wants to switch, and there are no available rooms left, which means either I move out or I’m stuck with her.
“I don’t care what you do; just do it. Honestly, the quicker, the better.”
Like that’s an option. “I’ve got to go.” I push past her and pull up my phone, texting the girls. Guess I need to find a new place to stay.
