Chapter 3
1288 Words
Callie and I walked across the quad together after American Literature, the late morning sun already too bright and too hot.
I had mostly dried coffee on my hoodie, which somehow made it worse. Now I just smelled like a sad gas station.
“So,” Callie said casually, swinging her bag over one shoulder, “next time Blaire does something like that, you should say something.”
I snorted. “Yeah, okay.”
“I’m serious.”
“Have you seen her?” I asked. “She’s like five-ten in heels. She looks like she’d stab you with one of those stilettos and not even smudge her mascara. Plus, I don’t have a big bad cousin to protect me.”
Callie laughed. “She is not that scary.”
“She absolutely is. She has murder eyes.”
“She has resting rich face.”
“Same thing.”
Callie bumped my shoulder. “You can’t let people walk all over you forever, Em.”
I shrugged. That familiar tight feeling crept into my chest. Then, a small warm one spread. Just a little warmth. Callie gave me a nickname. Not even my Mom gave me a nickname. Probably because she didn’t care. God Forbid she tried to have a relationship with me. She called me “baby” but that’s what she called everyone. That word makes me sick…
“I’m not good at… confrontation,” I said. “Or talking. Or being perceived, honestly. If I could major in ‘leave me alone,’ I would. After I failed out of Vet school of course.”
“Em, you want to me a veterinarian? That’s awesome! I’m going for business because, well, duh. My parents own a chain of grocery stores in south Florida. But, you are going to be the best vet! Hey, you know what?”
She stopped walking suddenly. I didn’t reply, just waited.
“Okay. New plan.”
Before I could ask what that meant, she grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward the giant bulletin board in the middle of the quad.
It was covered in flyers. Clubs. Tutoring. Yoga. Study groups.
She scanned it like she was hunting prey.
“There,” she said.
A bright neon sheet read:
SELF-DEFENSE CLASSES. BUILD CONFIDENCE. LEARN TO PROTECT YOURSELF. FREE FOR STUDENTS.
I laughed nervously. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
“Callie—”
“Nope.” She tore off two tabs. “We’re doing this.”
“We?”
“Yes. I’m not letting you go alone and accidentally roundhouse kick someone’s grandma.”
“I feel like that’s a valid fear.”
She grinned and typed our names into the sign-up form online right there. “Too late. Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
I stared at her.
“You just enrolled me in fighting.”
“I enrolled you in not being scared all the time.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
We settled into a comfortable quiet walking toward our next class. Sociology turned out to be painfully normal. Just lectures and note-taking and a professor who clearly loved the sound of his own voice.
No coffee attacks. No public humiliation.
Honestly? A win.
Lunch was… overwhelming.
The cafeteria looked like a food court designed by someone with unlimited money. Salad bars. Pizza ovens. Fancy little desserts in glass cases.
I checked the prices and immediately wanted to faint.
Callie piled food onto her tray like she was feeding a small village.
I grabbed the cheapest thing I could find and prayed it would keep me alive until dinner.
Across the room, Blaire sat with her court.
She didn’t even try to hide the glare she kept sending our way.
Like eye contact alone might set me on fire.
“Does she ever blink?” I muttered.
“Only to judge harder,” Callie said.
Nicolás wasn’t sitting with her, which surprised me. I guess they are having a lovers quarrel.
He was at another table with his friends.
Ryker was laughing at something, messy blond hair falling into his eyes. Nicolás smiled at him. A real smile. The kind that actually reached his face.
He didn’t smile like that at anyone else.
The rest of the guys talked. He mostly just tolerated them.
Which, weirdly, made him seem less awful.
Very slightly.
Like 0.3 percent less awful.
“So,” Callie said, “tell me about you.”
I froze a little. No one ever asked that.
“I’m on scholarship,” I said. “So I can’t… do all this.” I gestured at her tray. “I have a meal limit. And I have to work.”
“Work where?”
“The animal shelter. Part of the scholarship deal. If I don’t show up, I lose it.”
She nodded like that was the most normal thing ever. No pity. No weird face.
“Cool. Also, you’re trying this.”
Before I could protest, she dropped a little chocolate dessert onto my tray.
“I can’t—”
“You can. I refuse to eat dessert alone. That’s depressing.”
I stared at it.
Then took a bite.
Okay. Maybe life wasn’t completely terrible.
By the time we split up, I was… weirdly happy.
Which should’ve been my first warning sign.
Because life never let me be happy for long without charging interest.
The shelter sat a few blocks from campus. Small. Brick. Cute little painted paw prints on the windows.
My chest warmed a little when I saw it.
Animals I could handle. Dogs didn’t judge your hoodie.
Inside, it smelled like disinfectant and hay and something familiar.
Safe.
I walked up to the front desk. “Hi. I’m Emery Collins. I’m here to check in for my work-study shift? I was told to ask for the owner.”
“Sure,” the girl said. “Nico!”
Footsteps behind me.
And then—
“Let me guess,” a familiar voice said. “You’re the scholarship hire.”
I turned.
Nicolás Vega.
Of course.
Because apparently the universe hated me personally.
He crossed his arms. “Welcome to the family shelter.”
Your what now.
“My family owns it,” he said. “I run it.”
I briefly considered walking out, forfeiting my scholarship, and living in the woods.
But I had worked too damn hard to get here.
“Great,” I said flatly.
He handed me gloves and a shovel.
“Poop duty. Kennels out back.”
I blinked. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Behind him, two other employees were already playing with puppies. One girl literally had a golden retriever in her lap.
I stared at my shovel.
I hated him.
I absolutely hated him.
Which was unfortunate.
Because he didn’t leave.
He stayed nearby.
Watching.
Like I might rob the place or something.
Then, A metal kennel door slammed shut somewhere behind me.
The sound cracked through the room.
My whole body reacted before my brain did.
I jumped hard, heart slamming into my ribs, shovel clattering against the concrete.
For half a second I couldn’t breathe.
Then I forced a laugh. “Wow. Loud.”
Like I was just startled.
Like normal people got startled.
I bent down and picked the shovel back up, pretending nothing had happened.
But when I glanced up, Nicolás was staring at me.
Not annoyed.
Not amused.
Focused.
His eyes narrowed slightly, like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
Like he’d just seen something that didn’t add up.
I straightened and shrugged like, what?
He didn’t look convinced.
Great.
Add “suspicious rich guy” to the list of my daily problems.
- Writer
