Altercation with the campus Heartthrob

  “The detailed list of books for this session will be sent to your mails. Pick any two. Your presentations are around the corner!”

Professor Wale’s voice boomed, but no one was listening. He waved his hands, about to say more, when the lecture door burst open.

Slater King, the campus heartthrob. The one every girl swore was the best thing since sliced bread. He strolled into a class nearly over, unbothered.

  “Hey, Prof! There’s a glow in your eyes this morning. Did your wife treat you well last night?” He smirked, acting it out as the class erupted in laughter and cheers.

  “That’s enough!” Professor Wale barked, regaining control. He turned to Slater, frowning. “Slater King. How nice of you to finally join us. I’ll be out of your hair soon so you can keep causing trouble.” He began packing his bag.

  “Wait, what? I missed another class? Damn. My parents pay a fortune every year for me to be here, Prof Wale.”

I let out a sharp snort. “That’s unfortunate, isn’t it?”

Every head turned my way as Slater’s eyes locked on mine. “Are you talking to me?”

I straightened. “Unlike you and your friends, the rest of us value our education. So stop wasting our time.”

   “Oh no!” a boy from the back called out. “You’re not gonna let that slide, are you, Slater?”

Slater crossed the space in seconds, slamming his hands on my desk. “You’ve got a big mouth. Watch it, little girl.”

  “All right, enough,” Professor Wale sighed. “We’ll pick this up Monday. Your term papers are due next week.”

Chairs scraped the floor as everyone got up zipping their backpack. Slater rejoined his friends. I kept writing. My paper wasn’t great yet, but at least I’d started.

  “Hey.”

The voice behind me was sharp. I turned, it was Slater again, this time flanked by two friends.

  “Zephy, right?”

  “Zephyria,” I corrected.

He nodded slowly. “Slater King.”

  “I know who you are, everyone does.” I replied, eyes on my notebook.

  “Cute name.” He slid into the seat beside me. “You had a lot to say earlier. Funny, I’d never noticed you before. My boys hadn’t either.”

  “We didn’t even know she existed until now,” one of them added.

I arched my brow. “Do you need something? Maybe help with your term paper, since you’re clearly not cut out for academics.”

Slater’s grin deepened. “Don’t worry about my education. You’re not paying for it, neither are your parents.” He leaned back, eyes fixed on me. “Heard you’re here on a scholarship.” His smirk sharpened. “That explains everything.”

Before I could respond, he swung his arm onto my desk. The motion sent my water bottle, the one Dad gave me before I left for Westbridge, falling to the floor. It landed with a hollow crack, the lid popping off. A thin stream of water spread across the aisle, soaking the bottom of my bag.

  “No!” I reached for it, but the damage was already done. The base had split wide open, water gushing out like a wound.

  “Oops.” His dimples flashed as if they could erase what he’d just done. “Didn’t mean to.”

  “That…” My voice trembled. “That was my mum’s. My dad gave it to me before I left for school. It’s the only thing I have that reminds me of her.”

He cocked an eyebrow, unbothered. “You’re going to cry over a bottle? Come on, it’s just a bottle. I’ll get you a new one.”

  “You don’t get it,” I snapped, anger surging past my throat. “Not everything can be replaced just because you’ve got money to throw around.”

His smirk deepened. “Relax, drama queen. That was the cheapest-looking bottle I’ve ever seen. Did your dad fish it out of a thrift store bin?”

Something inside me snapped. My chair scraped back as I stood. I picked up the broken bottle, tilted it just enough, and poured the remaining water over his perfect, smug face.

For a beat, the class went silent. Then it erupted in laughter.

  “Oh no! Slater just got his *ss whooped by some rando!” a boy shouted.

  “This is totally newsworthy! It’s going to be a trend on the school blog!” a girl announced, already holding up her phone like she was livestreaming a championship fight.

Slater wiped his face slowly. The smirk faded, replaced by something colder. “You just made the biggest mistake of your life.”

  “And you just ruined something priceless to me,” I shot back, my voice trembling but steady enough to hit its mark. “I guess we’re even. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to meet my friends at the cafeteria.”

  “You want to walk out on me?” His voice sliced through the laughter. He straightened to his full height, the shadow swallowing me whole. “On me? Slater King?”

  “Do I look like I care who you are?” I stepped toward him instead of backward, the heat of a hundred eyes watching us burning into my skin. “You’ve already ruined my day. You destroyed something valuable to me.”

He gave a short, humorless laugh. “And you just embarrassed me in front of the entire class. Do you know what that means?” He moved closer, close enough that his breath brushed my cheek. “You want to trend, huh? You want to be popular? Is that it?”

  “No,” I said, chin lifted. “I want you to know you don’t get to stomp over people and expect them to thank you for it.”

Slater’s gaze darkened, the corners of his mouth twitching in something not quite a smile. “You think you’re making some kind of statement? That you’re… different?” He closed the last inch between us, his presence pressing like a storm. “Newsflash sweetheart, people like me decide who matters. And you? You’re about to learn exactly how small you are.”

I swallowed hard, pulse thudding against my ribs, but I refused to look away. “Is that a threat?.”

Before he could answer, a voice rang out from the doorway.

  “Leave her alone, you jerk!”

Freda. She must have come to check on me when I was late for lunch.

  “Oh, you called for backup?” Slater’s grin returned, sharp and mocking. “Hear that, everyone? All I did was be nice to her.”

  “Should’ve known better, Slater. Loser girls don’t appreciate anything,” one of his friends called.

  “Yeah, loser! Know your level!” another chimed in.

  “Stop,” I said, but my voice cracked, feeding their laughter.

Slater leaned in again, speaking low so only I could hear. “No one embarrasses me. You just made yourself a target, nerd.”

I shoved my books into my soaked bag and pulled Freda toward the door before the tears could spill.

  “Yeah, run along, loser!” someone yelled.

  “You look like a boiled lobster!” another girl sneered. “Get lost, ugly!”

By the time we reached the hallway, my hands were shaking. The cafeteria was out of the question, because my appetite was gone.

I’d spent the last year keeping my head down since winning the scholarship to study for my MBA at Westbridge.

Slater King destroyed that in five minutes.

Oh no. Could this year get any worse?