Chapter 2

Zach's POV 

"Avoid him. Go to class, keep your head down. You are here for school, not high school drama," Gigi had said as she shoved me towards the Business and Leadership Building.

“He might not even be in the same class as you are!” She added cheerfully, and that felt like a rush of sweet adrenaline. 

 If he wasn't going to be there, I would be pissed at myself that I worried for nothing. 

I obeyed, mostly. I ducked past every group he was a part of, I kept my steps fast, my face down, and my hoodie up. I didn't want to look around to get confirmation. 

Our first lecture was "Principles of Strategy," held in a wide amphitheater with seats that smelled of new leather and ambition. The sweet sweet scent of ambition.

The professor was lean, his glasses were too wide, and his voice was like caffeine. His demeanor immediately told you that he wasn't exactly warm.

He tossed out questions like darts. No one answered until he threw out more questions. 

"How would you structure a lean startup with only one investor and zero market proof?"

My hand went up before I thought twice, and when I saw him, those fingers froze in the air. 

Just when the lecturer had gone midway, I sighted Ryder at the edge of the door frame, standing with his arms across his chest. 

I remained focused to give the answer to the question. 

"Uh..focus on early adopters. Build MVP fast, test faster. Investors want traction, not theory. So like, I think you should give them that."

The professor snapped his fingers. “Name?”

“Zachary Jameson.”

He nodded. “You’ll do well here.” he turned to the white board and noted my opinion down.

I didn’t look at anyone, but I could feel his eyes on me as he walked into the class without permission. 

Ryder.

 Just when I thought it would be easier to handle it all, he was in the same department as me?

I told myself that it was fine. Maybe he had changed. Maybe he wouldn’t even talk to me in the manner he did in the past. Maybe I had imagined the way his lip curled up when the class ended and I took the far exit.

But the second I stepped into the hallway, there he was. Blocking my path.

“Still raising your hand like a teacher's pet,” he said quietly.

I stared ahead. “Move.”

He didn’t.

I clenched my fists. “Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t breathe near me.”

“Oh come on, Jameson. We were just getting reacquainted—”

“Reacquainted?” My voice rose. “You shoved me into urinals, Ryder. You carved slurs into my desk. Don’t pretend we have a good history. You made high school hell for me you growing fucking bastard.”

I didn't mean to curse, but holding it in for too long was impossible, not when his stupid proud face was right in front of me.

A few heads turned.

He raised his brows, as if surprised by my outburst but said nothing.

“Say something. No clever jabs? No ‘fag jokes’ for old time’s sake?”

I stormed off before he could even respond. Stupid douche.

_____

“Come to the freshman mixer,” a guy from class named Ellis had said. “It’s a chill spot. You need to unwind.”

I shook my head, I had to go home and study, read ahead. I didn't have time for parties. And plus Gigi wouldn't be available to string along, what exactly would I go there to do?

Ellis wasn’t buying it.

“Zach, you’re going to combust if you don’t decompress. One drink, just one dance, and you can go back to your monk cave.”

“I’m not a monk,” I muttered.

He leaned against the locker beside mine. “Fine. You’re a business monk. Still counts.”

“I’m serious. Parties are loud. Messy. Then there's so many people.”

Ellis clapped his hands once. “Exactly. College people. Not high school bullies. And I swear on my roommate’s weird anime body pillow, Ryder Summers won’t be there.”

I stared at him.

“Okay, he might. But who cares? It’s your party to enjoy, ignore him.”

He didn’t let up for two more days. Every class break, every time I tried to eat in peace, Ellis was there with that damn mixer flyer and a mouth full of arguments.

By the end of the week, I gave in.

“Fine,” I groaned, snatching the flyer from him. “I’ll show up for an hour. If I die of awkwardness, I will be blaming you in my will.”

Ellis grinned like he had just won a game show. “Deal. Wear something hot.”

“I am not trying to get laid.”

“You will be going to a college party. That’s the unofficial uniform.”

I rolled my eyes. “God, what did I just sign up for?”

He shrugged. “Nothing bad. Just a night you might not forget.”

Or desperately want to, I thought.

Still, that Friday, I stood in front of my closet debating between three identical black shirts. The stupid kind of indecision that meant I was actually nervous.

All for a dumb mixer where I was 90% sure Ryder would show. But maybe, just maybe, Ellis was right. Maybe it was time to act like I belonged here.

~

The music was loud. Not deafening, but enough to make conversation feel like effort. Some bass-heavy remix was pumping through the speakers while bodies swayed under Ellis's expensive lights and red solo cups passed from hand to hand like some kind of ritual.

I hovered, yeah hovered.....near the edge of the living room, nodding stiffly at classmates I vaguely recognized. One girl from Econ gave me a wave. Another guy asked if I had finished the assignment for our Business Ethics class. I told him yes and even offered a quick explanation on the key points. He looked at me like I was a wizard, then handed me a beer as thanks.

I held it, untouched.

"Drink," he laughed.

"I’m good," I said, managing a small smile.

He wandered off, and I stood there, awkwardly as expected. I was about to head toward the quieter hallway when someone shoved a red cup into my hand and nudged me toward the kitchen.

“Lighten up,” a voice chuckled. I didn’t catch who it was, maybe Ellis’s roommate, I think.

I sighed. Screw it.

I raised the cup and took a sip. Just a small one. It was warm, fruity, and too sweet. Alcohol masked by college-grade sugar.

I didn’t even get a second gulp before I turned to leave, and slammed full speed into someone.

The drink drenched my outfit.

Sticky liquid soaked my shirt and dripped down my jeans. My arm still hung in the air, the cup now crushed between our bodies.

“Shit!” I hissed and stepped back, dragging the wet fabric off my skin.

And then I saw him.

Of course.

Ryder Summers.

Wearing a leather jacket and an annoying smirk while laughing girl on one side, a jock bro on the other. 

Who knew I was going to run into my bully here?