Stacy
Wednesday Morning. Judgement Day.
I was freaking nervous because my next class would start in five minutes and my client was nowhere in sight. And to make matters worse, I wasn't able to make him promise to arrive early. We merely worked in tense silence.
"Well, well, well. Looks like you're going to fail this project, Sta. Ana," drawled Madeline Ramirez, one of my bitchy classmates who has a crush on Bryce.
I glared at the slinky brunette. "That won't happen, Ramirez."
She made a show of shielding a palm over her amber eyes and looking around. "Where is he, then?"
"Are you sure you even want me to fail?" I taunted her. "You just want to see my client."
Truthfully, I was internally panicking and on the verge of slapping Madeline senseless. I hated it when someone mentioned failure. It made me even more anxious and petrified.
But I kept my cool. I picked up the pink paper bag from my desk-chair and scanned its contents.
I've worked very hard on this outfit, designing it and revising the details. I had just finished the final product yesterday, and I wasn't able to fit it on Bryce, but I hoped for the best.
RING!!!!
Shit. I was the only student left whose client was absent. My professor would arrive any second.
Lifting my black phone to my face, I squinted at the time. One minute before the subject began.
Feeling dejected and disappointed, my fingers curled around the pink paper bag tightly. He wasn't going to come, I realized. Perhaps he was fooling around with his annoying girlfriend.
SLAM!
All heads whipped to one direction. The light blue door swung open so hard, the fluorescent lights swayed left to right. I rubbed my forehead to ease the pain from hearing that noise.
In the doorway, looking ready to keel over with sweat trickling down his temples, was Bryce. He was hunched over and panting loudly as though he ran up all the flights of stairs to get here.
The tall, brown-haired male saw everyone blatantly gawking at him, and he shot them a scowl.
"What are you all staring at?" he snapped, which made my classmates avoid his dirty look.
Bryce suddenly raised his chin and straightened up, still wheezing, then he walked towards me.
He smoothed back his damp brown hair and he held out a palm to me. I was flummoxed by this.
"What?"
"The clothes, stupid."
I narrowed my sky blue eyes at him. "Don't call me stupid."
"Just give it over," he said impatiently, his palm still open.
I lowered my gaze to my pink paper bag, then I glanced at him with a frown. "There's not enough time for you to change in the boys' restroom. How will this work?"
"Who said I was going to the facilities?" he asked me and snatched the paper bag from my hand.
There was a general gasp from the girls when Bryce quickly pulled off his blue tie, his white polo, and he hid behind the teacher's desk to strip off his blue pants.
I face-palmed, shaking my head in dismay. I can't believe how shameless he was.
But I couldn't deny, though--he had a really fit build. I wonder if he goes to the gym--STOP.
Folding my arms across my chest, I watched on as Bryce pulled a white shirt over his head, then threw on a soft orange button down polo with the collar upturned, and a pair of brown slacks.
To my delight, the clothes fit him perfectly.
"Don't drool over me, Sta. Ana."
His words made my mouth curve downward. I scoffed at him. "In your dreams, De Los Reyes."
A coy smile stretched his full lips as he arched a brow at me. "You'd be surprised what you do in my dreams."
"Can you not?" I glared at him darkly. "I'm pissed at you for being late."
He mussed up his brown hair and turned to me. "Are you still miffed about our last tiff?"
"Does it bother you whether I'm angry at you or not?" I smirked at him.
Bryce gave me a bored look. "Build a bridge and get over yourself. You don't affect me."
"The feeling is mutual!" I huffed.
"My, my. Lovers' quarrel so early this morning?" my professor chirped upon arrival.
Bryce and I instantly glanced at her and chorused: "We're not a couple!"
Mrs. Trinidad smiled at us both, her eyes skeptical. "Really now?"
I spoke before the jerk beside me could whip up lies. "I'm still single!"
"Not surprising," Bryce muttered beneath his breath.
I threw him a sharp glare. "I didn't ask for your opinion!"
"With a temper like that, of course no poor sap would date you."
"At least I'm not settling down with just anybody," I hissed at him.
Bryce knitted his brows together. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Mrs. Trinidad clapped her hands before any chaos ensued. She surveyed the classroom and smiled.
"Okay, class. It's time to grade your final products."
Sophia
Oh globs, it wasn't supposed to hurt this much.
I swept my brown eyes over the scattered papers, notebooks, and textbooks on the oaken table.
An agitated sigh escaped my throat. Preliminary exams began tomorrow, and I needed to work my butt off so my GPA wouldn't start to slip away. I refused to let that happen.
I am currently in the univ library, murdering my brain in an attempt to absorb everything like a sponge. Every professor had their technique in creating exams, and I needed to learn all of them.
Except.. I wasn't sure how. So for now I am trying to burn every detail into my memory.
English.. Math.. Science.. History.. What else was I missing? Where were those handouts-
A tall shadow loomed over me. "Studious Sophia. Did they used to call you that in high school?"
My hand flew to my mouth to stifle my yelp. I looked up and saw a familiar pair of brown eyes.
"Lucas," I greeted him calmly. I noticed he didn't carry anything in his hands. I frowned.
"What's with the glum, chum?"
I gazed at him with disapproval. "Shouldn't you be reviewing for tomorrow?"
The black-haired male scratched one cheek. He smiled sheepishly at me. "I always cram."
My frown deepened, and Lucas raised his palms in the air in mock surrender.
"Okay. I guess that wasn't music to your ears. But really, I'm used to cramming for tests."
I pointed one finger at the empty wooden chair across me. "Sit down."
He flinched. "Am I in trouble, Ya?" He asked while pulling up a chair and sat down.
"This isn't a test or quiz, Lucas," I told him sternly. "They're prelim exams."
"But I'm so lazy," he complained like a three-year-old child.
I smiled at him. "I'm appalled with your attitude, Lucas. Don't you want to do better in class?"
"Of course I do," he replied, his voice sulky. "But I can do better in midterms or finals."
I folded my arms on the wooden table and leaned forward to regard him seriously.
"That's hardly the kind of reply I expected from you. If you get a high mark in the beginning, it will encourage you to study harder for the following exams. Everyone should be motivated."
He raked his brown eyes around the thick bundles of paper and textbooks between us.
"Don't you dare say you can't do it," I warned him. "You can do everything you set your mind in doing. Remember, it's only impossible until someone does it."
Lucas stared at me for a long moment, then with a defeated sigh, he plonked his dark green backpack on the table before him and took out some notebooks and ponderous books.
"We'll study together, if that makes you feel more comfortable," I offered him.
His face lit up and he was suddenly leaning over the table and showing me some notes.
"Can you tutor me on this?" he asked me. "I suck at math."
I smiled at his enthusiasm and I told him to point out the parts he was struggling with.