Wild Collision (Us 4)

As I reach the university I gun it into the parking lot.

It’s full.

I drive around and around before I finally find a place to park—at least a mile from my lecture hall. Silently cursing my stupid alarm I grab my backpack and begin the trek across campus.

My stomach rumbles and my lips pout with grumpiness. I need food and I need coffee. Neither of which are attainable at the moment.

I speed walk through campus and finally make it to the classroom. I can hear Professor Jameson droning on and on.

I’m a good student, an excellent student, but he doesn’t like me for some reason. If I had to be late for class why did it have to be this one?

I pause outside the door, taking a deep steadying breath before I reluctantly grip the handle on the door and pull it open.

Eight sets of eyes, including those of the professor, turn to me.

I don’t say a word as I find my seat and sit down.

Silence.

Professor Jameson clears his throat. “Tardiness is unacceptable, Miss Hayes. I don’t care who your father is I will have to deduct marks for today.”

My teeth grind together. His issues with me become clear. My father is successful and famous, and someone like Jameson is envious of it, so he takes it out on me. Never mind this man had no hopes of ever making it big, ending up a professor instead.

I smile despite my irritation. The picture of ease and he bristles. “Understood, Professor. It won’t be happening again.”

If I have to set my alarm for five in the morning so I’m never late to this class again, I will.

Clearing his throat yet again he returns to his lecture and I pull out my notebook and pen to take notes. Everyone else clacks on the keyboards of their computers but I’ve always preferred pen and paper. I swear it helps me to remember what I’ve learned better. If somehow by writing the words down myself, in my handwriting, I commit them to memory.

Professor Jameson continues to glower at me throughout his lesson. I pretend not to notice, even if his angry gaze makes me uncomfortable. If I was a bolder person I’d shout at him about how jealousy looks ugly on everyone, especially a washed up wannabe like him.

But I keep my lips zipped tight. I need this class in order to graduate next year and he’s the only one who teaches it. If he bans me from class, I’m screwed.

When the lecture ends I gather my stuff up in a hurry and dash out of the room before he can stop me. I don’t want to be left in a room alone with him.

My next class doesn’t start for thirty minutes so I stop by the dining hall and grab a breakfast bar and banana. It’s not much, but I know it’ll do the trick and keep me from dying of starvation in the middle of class.

“There you are,” Kira chimes, looping her arm through mine as I find a table in the corner to sit at. “You didn’t answer any of my texts this weekend.”

“Sorry, I was busy,” I lie. Well, it’s not a total lie, I did work on more assignments I have due in the coming weeks, but mostly I couldn’t stop thinking about Hollis and our encounter. Replaying it over and over in my mind, thinking of what I could’ve done or said differently. I don’t know why it matters to me, hot or not, I don’t even like the guy.

Why can’t you stop thinking about him then?

I nearly groan out loud in frustration but manage to stifle the sound before Kira can ask too many questions.

A year younger than me, but both juniors since I waited a year before starting, Kira and I have been friends since high school when she moved here. I didn’t have many friends before Kira. Not for lack of trying. I quickly learned most people only wanted to get close to me in the hopes of seeing my dad and his bandmates. Even with all the guys being the age of their parents, the girls in school still talked about how hot they were, asking me if I could get them an autograph or handing me tour shirts to take home to have signed. At times it was humiliating, at others it was damn frustrating. When I told my parents what was going on they spoke with the principal who shut the harassment down … well, mostly. After, all I received were glares and muttered words of bitch and snitch.

But Kira? She’s never cared who my dad was or about the band. She likes me for me and it’s a breath of fresh air.

“Let me guess, your nose was stuck in a book?” Her lips tilt up at the corners, her rich dark brown hair slipping over her shoulder. The dimple in her chin crinkles as she fights laughter.

“Homework,” I supply.

“Ugh,” she groans, “you need to get out more, girl. You’re going to shrivel up and die if all you do is study, read, and do homework. Get out and live a little. Ride some dick and then ride some more.”

I shake my head, laughing. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy right.” She winks, shooting finger guns at me and pretending to blow them out. Sobering she says, “But in all seriousness Mia Lee, you need to do something fun for once. You come to school, you go to work, you study, you write papers, you practice the guitar sometimes, and you eat because if you don’t you’re a raging intolerable bitch. I don’t want the spark inside you to dim because you refuse to let it rage. We can’t be perfect all the time. Rules are meant to be broken.”