FLASHBACK CONTINUES
I stood at the door of the lecture hall, my hands clutching the strap of my bag as I peeked inside. The room was already full, rows of students whispering and laughing as they waited for the lecturer. My heart was pounding, a jittery drumbeat in my chest. It was my first class, and I had already wasted too much time trying to find it.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open. The hinges creaked, loud in the silence that fell over the room.
Every single eye turned to me.
I froze for a second, then forced myself to step forward, offering a small, awkward smile. "I'm sorry I'm late. This is my class, right?"
The lecturer, a middle-aged woman with sharp glasses, looked me over with the kind of gaze that could slice someone in half. "Your name."
"Vance Cavendish."
She adjusted the papers in her hand, giving a slight nod. "New student, I see. Introduce yourself."
My throat tightened, but I cleared it and faced the class. "I'm Vance Cavendish. I transferred here this semester. I hope we get along."
Whispers rippled across the room like a breeze through tall grass. I ignored them and scanned the back rows, spotting a free seat. With as much composure as I could muster, I slipped past the stares and settled down, setting my bag beside me. The murmurs didn't stop. If anything, they seemed to grow louder.
I leaned toward the girl next to me and kept my voice low. "Why is everyone staring at me like that?"
Her eyes widened as if I had just done something unthinkable. She leaned closer, whispering back, "You're sitting in his seat."
I frowned. "His seat? Whose seat?"
She hesitated, then mouthed the name like it was a curse. "Nikolai."
Before I could ask what that meant, the door creaked open again. A tall figure walked in, his uniform slightly untidy, his dark hair tousled like he hadn't even bothered with a brush. He yawned, one hand shoved casually in his pocket, his steps slow and deliberate.
The entire room went silent.
So this was Nikolai Valenciaga. His gaze swept lazily over the students until it landed on me. My breath caught. The air felt electric, heavy with expectation. Everyone else leaned forward, waiting for an explosion—an outburst, a fight, something.
Instead, Nikolai strolled straight toward me. He stopped at my desk, looking down at me with eyes so cold and sharp they made my skin prickle. I tilted my chin up, refusing to flinch. For a moment, he just studied me, and then, to my utter shock, he reached out and ruffled my hair.
"You're bold, sitting here," he said, his voice low and even.
I scowled and smacked his hand away. "I didn't know this was your throne."
Gasps erupted around us. Students exchanged wide-eyed looks like they were waiting to watch my funeral.
But instead of getting angry, Nikolai's lips curved into the faintest smirk. He slid into the seat beside me, radiating an unsettling calm. "Careful, little fresher. You sound like you're picking a fight."
"I'm not," I said sharply, adjusting my hair. "I'm just stating the truth."
The lecturer cleared her throat loudly. "Both of you, quiet."
I faced forward, pretending to focus on the lecture, but it was impossible to ignore him. His presence was like a blade pressed against my skin: heavy, cold, dangerous.
As the lecture dragged on, I caught him glancing at me more than once. Once, when I was scribbling notes too quickly, my pen slipped and clattered to the floor. Before I could even reach down, he picked it up and set it neatly on my notebook without a word.
"Thank you," I whispered.
He leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear. "You're too polite for your own good."
"And you're too rude," I shot back under my breath.
He smirked again, then sat back, looking entirely unbothered.
By the time the lecture ended, students were whispering like they'd just witnessed something scandalous. I ignored them as best I could, gathering my books and slipping into the crowded corridor.
I was still trying to figure out where the cafeteria was when I collided with someone. My books nearly flew out of my arms. I staggered back, irritation rising—only to find myself staring up at Nikolai. Again.
"You," I muttered, more startled than I wanted to admit. "Why is it always you I bump into?"
"Maybe you're not watching where you're going," he said coolly, his gaze dropping to the folded campus map clutched in my hand. "Lost again?"
I glared at him. "I was trying to find the cafeteria."
"Hopeless," he murmured with a sigh. He tilted his head and stepped aside. "Follow me."
I bristled. "I never asked you to show me."
"You'll starve if you keep wandering around like this," he replied flatly. "Come or stay. Your choice."
I hesitated, annoyed by how smug he sounded, but in the end, I sighed and fell into step behind him. We wove through the crowd, and soon the savory smell of food reached my nose. Nikolai stopped at the entrance of the cafeteria and gestured inside. "Here."
"Thanks," I said, lifting my chin in stubborn pride.
His eyes studied me for a beat, unreadable. "You really aren't scared of me."
"Why should I be?" I asked. "Because people whisper about you?"
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Most don't even dare sit near me."
"I guess I'm different," I replied, brushing past him into the cafeteria.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of classes. I thought I was done with Nikolai for the day, but fate seemed hell-bent on proving me wrong. During my last lecture, the professor clapped his hands together, his expression far too cheerful.
"You'll all be working on a joint project. I'll be assigning partners."
My stomach knotted as he began calling out pairs. When my name came up, I felt the blood drain from my face.
"Vance Cavendish, you'll work with Nikolai Valenciaga."
The room erupted with murmurs and knowing looks. Some students glanced at me with pity. Others looked like they were already planning my eulogy.
I didn't need to look to know Nikolai's eyes were on me. Slowly, I turned my head. There he was, leaning back casually in his seat, a faint smirk playing at his lips.
"Looks like you're stuck with me," he said quietly.
My throat went dry. "Lucky me."
When the lecture ended, students scattered, eager to escape the tension. Nikolai rose smoothly to his feet, moving with a predatory grace. "Don't be late for our first discussion tomorrow."
I narrowed my eyes. "Don't order me around."
He leaned closer, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper. "Then try not to make me."
Heat rushed to my face, but I forced myself to meet his gaze without wavering. "I won't."
A low chuckle escaped him, rare and rich, drawing curious stares from nearby students. Without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving me standing there, my pulse thundering in my chest.