Chapter 3:Distractions
989 Words
Chapter Three: Distractions
Camille pressed her lips together as she walked into her first class, quietly reminding herself—
Focus.
This is your first day at Harvard. No distractions.
She inhaled, steadying her thoughts, and stepped inside.
The room was already filling up.
Camille paused for a second, taking it all in.
Some students were… flashy. Designer logos visible from across the room, confidence bordering on performance. Others sat quietly, already flipping through notes, their focus sharp and unwavering.
Different worlds.
Same room.
Interesting, she thought, a faint smile touching her lips.
Her gaze briefly landed on a girl near the front—perfectly styled, perfectly poised.
Sofia.
She didn’t need an introduction to stand out.
The way she leaned forward slightly, laughing just a bit too sweetly at something the professor said… the subtle attempts to impress, to charm—it was obvious.
Camille almost admired the boldness.
Almost.
She slipped into a seat in the last row, her favorite place. From here, she could see everything.
Observe.
Analyze.
Understand.
Students began introducing themselves one by one. Names, backgrounds, ambitions.
Some came from across the world—voices carrying accents, stories hinting at privilege, pressure, or brilliance. It reminded her, briefly, of those extravagant international films she used to watch.
This is going to be interesting.
Camille folded her hands neatly on her lap.
She wasn’t competitive.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
But she had always needed to be the best she could be.
Not for anyone else.
For herself.
For the future waiting for her.
For the empire she would one day lead.
Relationships had never been part of the plan.
No distractions.
No boyfriends.
No one had ever caught her attention enough to change that.
Until—
Her thoughts faltered.
A pair of light green eyes flashed in her mind.
The way her heart had reacted.
The way her breath had caught.
Camille blinked, almost annoyed with herself.
Seriously?
She straightened slightly.
Focus.
⸻
By lunchtime, the intensity of the morning had settled into something softer.
Familiar.
Manageable.
She found herself sitting with two girls from her block, trays set in front of them as the cafeteria buzzed with conversation.
“I’m Rachel,” the blonde said, tucking a curl behind her ear.
Freckles dusted her cheeks, and though she wasn’t the kind of beauty that demanded attention instantly, there was something about her—confidence, ease—that made people look twice.
“I just got out of a relationship,” she added casually. “Didn’t want long distance. Too much work.”
“Same situation, but opposite decision,” Jasmine chimed in with a laugh. “I stayed. I don’t know if it’s going to work, but… we’ll see.”
She was warm. Bright. The kind of person who made conversations feel effortless.
Camille smiled softly, sipping her fresh fruit juice. “I’m Camille.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? No tragic love story?”
Jasmine leaned forward, curious. “Wait… you’re single?”
Camille nodded.
“Like… recently single?” Rachel pressed.
“…No,” Camille admitted.
A pause.
Then—
“Wait—what?” Jasmine nearly choked on her drink. “You’re telling me you’ve never had a boyfriend?”
Camille laughed lightly, a little embarrassed. “I was busy.”
“With what?” Rachel teased. “Being perfect?”
Camille shook her head, smiling. “School. Life. Expectations.”
Rachel and Jasmine exchanged a look.
“You are way too beautiful to be single,” Jasmine said matter-of-factly.
“Seriously,” Rachel added. “Give it a week. Someone’s going to fall for you.”
Camille felt her cheeks warm slightly.
If only they knew, she thought.
Her gaze drifted—almost unconsciously—across the cafeteria.
Searching.
Hoping.
But—
Nothing.
No rugged jeans.
No familiar presence.
No green eyes.
She looked back at her friends, hiding the small flicker of disappointment.
⸻
By the end of the day, exhaustion had settled into her bones.
New faces. New expectations. New everything.
It was overwhelming—but in a way she welcomed.
As she walked with Rachel and Jasmine toward their last class, she exhaled softly.
“Almost done,” Jasmine said.
“Thank God,” Rachel muttered.
They arrived early.
The classroom was only half full.
Quiet.
Calm.
Camille stepped inside—
And stopped.
Her breath caught.
There.
At the back of the room.
Her spot.
Occupied.
Him.
The same rugged jeans.
The same white shirt.
The same effortless presence that seemed to pull the air out of her lungs.
Her heart betrayed her instantly, beating faster than it should.
Oh God…
What is happening to me?
She forced herself to move, walking past him as if nothing had changed, as if she hadn’t noticed.
As if he hadn’t completely disrupted her thoughts all day.
She sat on the opposite side with Rachel and Jasmine, placing her bag down carefully.
Act normal.
Do not look.
Do not look.
…
She looked.
Just for a second.
He was leaning back slightly in his chair, relaxed, like he belonged there more than anyone else.
Like rules didn’t quite apply to him.
Camille quickly turned away, her pulse quickening.
⸻
Introductions began again.
One by one.
Until—
“Cameron Chase Ford.”
Her breath stilled.
She looked up before she could stop herself.
He stood, hands in his pockets, calm as ever.
“I’m a third-year,” he continued, voice steady. “Just picking up some backlog classes.”
An irregular.
Not entirely part of their batch.
Not entirely separate either.
Something in between.
Camille felt something shift inside her.
Cameron Chase Ford.
She repeated the name silently, committing it to memory.
As if it mattered.
As if he mattered.
⸻
He sat back down.
And just for a brief second—
His eyes met hers.
⸻
And this time—
He didn’t look away.
⸻
- Writer
