Olivia's POV
The air from the Bayshore coast stuck to my skin, salty and stubborn, as if it was trying to claim me.
Honestly, I wouldn't mind because even two days in, this city hasn't lost its shine yet.
There were palm trees swaying like they were holding conversation, the streets humming with chaos that felt laid-back, and literately almost every student had a sunburnt nose as they spilled espresso on their textbooks. Was everyone clumsy here? Was it the salt in the air?
I giggled but honestly, it felt like I had stepped into someone else's dream.
But I knew it was mine. Because I earned it with blood, sweat and tears.
I adjusted the strap of my leather bag on my shoulder as Charlotte and I walked through the glass doors of Acadia University's East Wing. The main Law building stood tall before us as if it knew it was important with it's stone arches, sweeping staircases, a full-body ego complex if you ask me.
Charlotte was walking beside me, her long black hair falling in lazy, shiny waves down her back, a maroon cardigan almost slipping off one shoulder. She also wore a black tank top tucked into mom jeans and her favorite combat boots with rings on almost every finger. I could never be her.
Her expression was something between exhausted and bored out of her mind, just how I knew Charlotte.
"I'm placing bets," she muttered. "First professor to hit on you before lunch gets a glitter bomb mailed to his house, anonymously of course." she smirked.
I snorted, remembering high school. "You really think it'll happen that fast?"
"I can see your boobs in that shirt. So yes." She shot me a look. It was playful but protective. "You know you could've gone with something less...this?"
I glanced down. White blouse, slightly sheer, high-waisted black slacks, soft waves in my freshly blown-out red hair. My lipstick was a muted brick red. I was going for, subtle.
But yeah, my shirt didn't really hide the fact that I grew into my body. I looked like someone ready to sue you and steal your boyfriend at the same time. Which I would do if I wanted to.
"I'm dressing like the lawyer I'm planning to be," I said, lifting my chin. "You should try it sometime."
Her face looked as if she just swallowed battery acid. "I'd rather die in skinny jeans than dress like a corporate vampire."
Laughing, we parted at the hallway intersection, her literature classes was in the North building and mine was right here in the East Wing. As I climbed the stairs toward Room 402 Intro to Criminal Law as my timetable read, the knot in my stomach grew tighter. I hated this part, the walking in, the eyes, the seating. The feeling like everyone knew everything and I was just a comment away from crumbling.
But I had a plan like I always did.
The classroom buzzed with choas, as if it was high school all over again. Half the seats were already full and it was long tables instead of individual desks. A wide window at the back let in light that made everything golden and too open.
I focused on the far back corner, the left side. Best seat of every room. Easy exit access.
I made a beeline for it, my heels clacking and my bag bouncing softly against my hip.
But someone else had the exact same idea.
He got there about a half-second before me. Fuck.
Tall, slouching and disheveled in a way.
A black hoodie was layered under a leather jacket, his sleeves pushed up just enough to show a tattoo wrapped around his left forearm. His hair was the colour of a storm cloud, messy like he just woke up, or haven't slept at all. His jaw was sharp enough to be dangerous, but it was his eyes that caught me a little too much. It was piercing blue, a little too alert for someone who looked that tired.
He plopped into the seat and glanced up at me with no apology, as if it was just normal not to have manners.
"No offense," he said, his voice deep like gravel and bored, "but this one's mine."
I raised my eyebrow. "I didn't realize we were playing musical chairs."
His lip twitched, not quite a smirk. "I claimed it. You're late."
"I'm five minutes early."
He stretched his long legs out in front of him, unfazed. "Yeah, and I'm five minutes earlier which makes that ten minutes of ownership."
I opened my mouth to fight back, probably something sharp, something clever but of course I didn't get the chance.
Because just then, the door creaked open and the room went completely quiet.
Someone walked in, Mr Abbot if the timetable was correct.
The air turned a little colder as he made his way to the front of the room.
He wasn't old, maybe in his mid-forties. He looked sleek, with his silvering hair brushed back and his skin pulled tight around his very high cheekbones. His suit looked expensive but as if he wore it too often, seemed like the kind of man who took pride in appearances but couldn't quite hide the rot underneath. He set his briefcase down slowly, deliberately, then turned to face us with a smile that felt like a trap.
His eyes scanned the room and then paused, on me.
"Miss..." he trailed off, pretending to squint at the clipboard in his hand. "Rosewood, is it?"
I stiffened, that stare did not sit right with me. I've seen it too often. "Yes, sir." I still replied.
"That's quite the name." He smiled again, eyes dropping lower than they should've. "And quite the entrance."
My skin burnt under his stare, disgusting.
I was just about to reply with something vulgar that would've probably ended up with me kicked out but then I was interrupted again.
The boy next to me, the seat thief made a low noise under his breath. A chuckle? A scoff?
"Careful sir," he said, loud enough for the whole class to hear. "You keep drooling like that and HR's gonna need a mop."
Laughter burst out around the room. I stared blankly at the boy.
Mr. Abbot's jaw ticked, but he moved on tight-lipped.
I blinked. Glanced back at the boy next to me.
He was already leaning back in his chair, twirling a pen between his long fingers, a smirk back in place like he hadn't just body-checked a professor with words.
"Elijah Summer," he said, almost lazily. "In case you were wondering."
"I wasn't." I scoffed. But now I definitely was.
And even as I took the seat beside him, because clearly I wasn't winning this fight, I felt a uncomfortable prick of awareness come between us. What it was, I didn't know but was I curious? Yes.
"You'll hear about me soon enough." He lazily replied. "Lot's of people think they know me around here."
It was like static, waiting for a storm.