Veins of Desire

Collisions

Raina

Tuesday morning came a bit too soon; the sun was shining cool and bright through the window, casting a light across my desk. Sara was still asleep in the bed across from mine; she was tangled in blankets and snoring away. So I quietly got dressed and snuck out of the room with my bookbag and a couple of books tucked under my arm. And I made my way to the coffee kiosk that was close to the student gardens, because if I was going to make it through my day of classes, then I was definitely going to need caffeine.

The campus felt different in the early mornings, as there were fewer students who crowded the walkways, and the usual buzz of chatter was replaced with birds singing and the overhead sounds of leaves rustling in the trees. I continued following the path toward the coffee kiosk, and I smiled at the smell of espresso that was drifting through the air.

When I reached the kiosk, I joined the short line, and I reached into my pocket to pull out some loose bills. When I looked up, I noticed the man from the past couple of days standing off to the side of the kiosk, coffee in his hand. His posture was relaxed but alert, like he was waiting for something. The sun was shining on his dark hair, but looking at his face, it was as unreadable as ever.

My stomach did a small flip. I don't know why I felt both excited and nervous. It's not like we were friends. I decided to put on a small smile. "Good morning," I said, my voice cracking again. His eyes flickered to me, and for a fraction of a second, I thought I noticed their recognition, or curiosity. I wasn't sure. But it was gone just as fast as it showed. "You shouldn't make a habit of talking to strangers." He replied flatly; his voice was quiet but had a bit of edge to it.

I blinked for a moment; the words had stung more than I would like to admit. "Right," I murmured, taking my cup from the barista. "Have a nice day, then." He didn't answer, but when I looked back, he was already gone.

My first lecture was buzzing with nervous energy when I arrived. Students filled the rows, chatting over their notebooks and laptops. I found a spot near the right side of the classroom. I pulled out my pen and told myself I was going to have to focus today, no mysterious, sharp-tongued stranger, and definitely no distractions. But fate had something else planned because there he was, walking through the door to the room.

He scanned the room, then took a seat diagonally across from me. Just close enough that I couldn't avoid noticing him, my chest tightened. I forced my eyes to stay ahead and not to make eye contact, refusing to acknowledge him. The professor tapped his pen against the podium. "Let's start simple, do corporations exist primarily to share the interests of shareholders, or do they have a broader responsibility to society?" The room went eerily quiet, but I just raised my hand. "I believe corporations should serve society as a whole," I said, my voice was steady and clear. "Profit matters, but companies affect employees, communities, and the environment. If they ignore that, then they're making it possible for their companies to fail."

The professor nodded, "Thank you....Raina? Is there anyone who would like to challenge that?" The silence stretched until his voice ran through it. "That's not how the world works." He said, his tone flat, cool, and precise. "Corporations don't survive on goodwill. Their responsibility is to the shareholders who fund them. If a company forgets that, then it collapses." My cheeks flushed red, I gave a side-eye glance at him, and his eyes were directly on me. His eyes were sharp, daring her to push back. I lifted my chin and looked at the professor. "A corporation that ignores its impact won't last long, either. Destroy trust, harm the community, exploit workers. Eventually, it all costs them profits, too, especially since there is a connection between responsibility to shareholders and to society." I smiled slightly as murmurs broke out around the room, but the man across from me sat quietly. The professor smiled. "Excellent exchange." He complimented. I gave a slight nod, but I hardly heard the professor with the ringing in my ears. My pulse raced, and my chest felt tight from the intensity of the man's stare.

Kevin

After the debate in corporation 1, I went to my next class. I slid into a back-row seat, my notebook open but untouched. I've taken these classes so many times over the years: corporations, business law, management theory. The syllabi barely changed, the professors rotated, but the ideas never did. This semester's schedule was stacked neatly. corporations 1, business ethics, principles of management, strategic decision-making. It was predictable, familiar. That was always the point: predictability made it easier to blend in, to pass unnoticed.

Except this time, he wasn't unnoticed.

I'd challenged her because I had to; the moment she spoke up in class, her voice carried the same brightness I heard at the coffee kiosk. But this time it wasn't broken, it was clear and soft. It wasn't the answer itself, since idealism was a dime a dozen in college. It was the way she said it, she...Raina. The way she said it was like she believed it. That belief pulled at me, so I cut it down. Because distance was safer, it kept her from looking too closely.

And yet, Raina looked closely, twice now.

I thought back to this morning at the coffee kiosk, the way Raina had said "Good morning," as though they weren't strangers. The way her lips curved politely, as though I hadn't warned her away from me once. My instinct was to push her back, keep her at arm's length. Because if she noticed things, things she wouldn't be able to unsee. But beneath the coldness, there was a strong sense of hunger, but not only that. Fascination, of wanting to know more about her. To reach out and touch her, I shook my head for a second, letting these thoughts leave my head again.

Later that afternoon in strategic decision-making class, Raina sat near the front of the room this time. Her hair pulled back, pen tapping against her notebook. And when the professor asked a question about whether moral responsibility should outweigh profit in decision-making, Raina's hand shot up again. I cursed under my breath. Her answer was thoughtful, measured. It was about balancing responsibility with realistic outcomes. And still, I challenged her. My eyes were on the back of her head. "Responsibility doesn't matter if the company fails," I said, my tone laced with ice. "A bankrupt business can't help anyone; profit isn't just important, it's survival."

Raina twisted in her seat, meeting my gaze from across the room. This time, her eyes didn't waver. "Survival without integrity isn't success." She countered. "It's just greed dressed up as a business." I clenched my jaw and looked away. Why did I always have to fight back? And why did I get a thrill every time she fought back?

By the end of the day, I walked the length of the campus under the cover of twilight, my hands deep in my pockets. And my body hummed with restlessness. My thoughts were circling like vultures; I should have been able to place her away just like all the other students, just another human voice in the classrooms. But I couldn't.

So...Her name's Raina then, huh?"

I heard it multiple times today, and she had never corrected the professors. The syllables lodged in my brain like a hook holding onto a wall. Raina. I shouldn't care, I couldn't care. Wanting to know more about her was dangerous, reckless, the very thing I'd sworn to avoid. But her voice, her defiance, her stubbornness gnawed at me.

Fascination burned inside me along with hunger, and that was the worst part. The hunger was more manageable; fascination was far more dangerous. Fascination led to ruin. As I disappeared into the night, I whispered her name under my breath, letting it sit there like a forbidden taste.

Raina

And for the first time in decades, control felt like it might slip.