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A man walks in with a suit and tie and a Starbucks coffee in his hand. I can only gauge that it’s the professor. A huge contrast from Ohio. He looks like he belongs at a law firm in New York City. Like those guys in the show Suits. Black suit, white shirt, light blue tie, and haircut parted on the side.
I notice everyone pulling out a composition book, so I take out a blank sheet of paper. I make a note of what is required for each class and hope I have enough in my account to cover it.
A group of guys walk in; you can tell by the way they draw everyone’s eyes that they are popular. Even if they weren’t, their looks are enough to take notice. They are good-looking, and judging from the shirts that read Don’t Drown, it gives it away.
The girls seated closest to the door stare. Some giggle. Some whisper among themselves. The door opens, causing the room to feel devoid of air. Everyone’s head lifts, and conversations stop. The sound of my heartbeat pulses in my ears. It amazes me that he's in this class. Not because it is a writing class. It is an elective, which means seniors and freshmen can take it. What surprises me the most is thathe'sin this class with me.
Valen Vikiar.
I swear my heartbeat slows down when he walks farther in the room and then begins to beat frantically when he takes a seat on my side next to his teammates, but I’m relieved that I chose to sit in the last row where no one is seated next to me and I have a clear view of them four rows below me.
The professor looks down at the podium.
He clears his throat. “Before we begin, we have a new student who transferred in from... Ohio State but missed the first two weeks of class due to a family emergency.” My stomach clenches. These people are better liars than the devil. Peopleboo.
“Settle down, settle down,” the professor says, “none of that. She saw her mistake and is now doing the right thing.” I roll my eyes at the jab. “Miss Melody Price,” he calls out, and he scans the room along with everyone else. A set of hazel eyes meet mine, causing the room to sway before my eyes. I didn’t think he noticed I was here.
My brother must have talked to him. I didn’t think he knew who I was. He’s never said two words to me. I feel like the new kid in elementary school.
I shift in my seat. “Here,” I say, loud enough for every pair of eyes in the room to land on me.
“There you are, Miss Price. Welcome to Kenyan," Professor Owens announces, his smile failing to mask the undertone of formality. "If you need to catch up, feel free to partner with someone or see me after class.”
“I’ll do it.”
“Ah, Mr. Vikiar. How noble of you,” the professor says with a touch of sarcasm.
All eyes dart between Valen and the professor.
Slowly, Valen's smile unfolds, a calculated display hinting at the sharpness beneath his exterior. “We both know nothing is noble about me, Mr. Owens.”
Everyone laughs. The professor turns bright red and looks uncomfortable. I press my hands into my lap. Shit.
"Of course. Uh, Mr. Vikiar.” Professor Owens gives me a sympathetic smile. His smile tells me I have no choice but to get the missing assignments from the devil himself. “Miss Price, Mr. Vikiar is volunteering. You will find that he is always erudite. He’s a senior and is well-informed about the material.
“Good to know. Thank you.”
My brother’s warning about him goes off like an alarm in my mind. The room's focus returns to the professor, yet a palpable tension persists, akin to the quiet before a storm. Amid the sea of faces pointedly focused on the lecture ahead, I dare to glance to the left. My breath catches. The air between us crackles. Valen's eyes meet mine, his look piercing and unyielding, a silent challenge that leaves the weight of his attention both unsettling and undeniable.
As the professor begins the day's lesson, all I can think about is the way he looks at me. It’s like I can see inside me. Like he’s rummaging in the dark, knowing where everything is, and making sure everything is where it should be. Or maybe he’s trying to intimidate me because I messed up, and my brother needed a favor for his wild little sister that he can’t keep out of trouble.
I stare right back.
My junior year in high school, I thought he was a god the first time I laid eyes on him at the college party. After my sister, Madison, stopped me from tearing Zack and that tramp’s eyes out, I wasn’t aware I was fighting for a boy who would end up ruining me.
Not when I was lost in hazel eyes across the room. Eyes that told me I was fighting for the wrong guy. I was mesmerized by how gorgeous he looked, but at that moment, I begged him with my eyes to take me with him.
I was confused. It wasn’t my sister who got me to stop. It was him. I knew he was older since he was at a college party, but I didn’t care. I didn’t even care if he had a girlfriend.
In those days, I was fearless. I wanted to explore, have sex, and fall in love.
All it took was one look, and he had me.
Too bad I’m not the same stupid girl he thought he could fool.
I watch his tongue rub slowly over his piercing on the corner of his lip. Any girl would fall for him. He is sexy. I don’t miss the way the girl to his right sneaks an appreciative glance every few seconds. He must be used to the attention. In the diner, at the party, in this classroom.
She isn’t the only one sneaking a glance at him or giving him a knowing smile. His eyes are telling me what I don’t need to ask. He’s fucked almost every girl in this room, but I see something they don’t. I see a face on the other side of the mirror.
