Page 1 of No Way Out
“Iheardhegotcaught finger-blasting Jolie Parker in the bleachers during the pep rally rehearsal.” I could hear Delaney Summers talking about my personal life as if she didn’t see me walking three feet in front of her.
I buried my face in my hands and groaned. It had only been fifteen hours since I was publicly dumped by the captain of the football team in front of his entire fraternity. By breakfast, the entire student body had heard the news; someone even went viral for sharing the video.
I had no business getting involved with him. I was black cargo pants and twelve year old converse shoes being held together solely by good vibes and wishful thinking, and he was pastel polo shirts and Adidas with pristine white socks, the kind of shoes that never looked stained or dingy because someone paid to replace them before they ever got bad.
Aside from the embarrassment of having the entire Kappa Sigma witnessing my breakup, I was mostly relieved—ecstatic, even, that I wouldn’t have to do another year of pretending to give a rat’s ass about entitled rich boys who couldn’t even clean their own rooms. I thought Noah was different, but clearly, I was wrong. I was thrilled that I was no longer going to be dragged to every sporting event and forced to smile at every sexual harassment lawsuit in waiting. Relief aside, that didn’t mean I was stoked to hear my boyfriend of three years was already moving on.
We had met during freshman orientation, and in a way, we sort of grew up together.
I didn’t really think we’d make it out of college, buy an apartment together, get married, have kids. We were far too different, and as time went on, our interests grew further and further apart. I was a vegan, and he still couldn’t comprehend why I wouldn’t just want to ‘pick the meat off’ my food.
My heart wasn’t shattered; I just cared about being humiliated.
Stupid pride.
“Oops; sorry, Camila,” Delaney giggled from behind me to her crew of petty bitches in cheerleading uniforms. “Didn’t see you there, babe,” she mocked before walking past me, tossing her hand through my hair to dishevel it.
I fumed internally, but the only sign of my emotions was my flared nostrils, and the only person who could see them right now was my best friend, Naya.
“Fuck her. It’s probably not even true.” She popped her gum casually as we made our way to Botanical sciences.
The leaves crunched beneath our feet as we walked, the weather already requiring multiple layers.
Standard Ohio October bullshit.
The screeching of a motorcycle coming to a halt in front of the Natural Sciences building was almost as loud as the gasping of the Kappa Hoe-ntourage in matching pink tennis skirts in front of us. Intrusive thoughts of punching through Delaney Summer’s orbital socket flashed through my head, I squeezed my fist on instinct, as if her eyeball would somehow manifest between my fingers.
Heavy leather boots crushed piles of dead leaves, turning them into powdered versions of themselves as a black-cladded knight dismounted his Ducati. I knew its purr well, and from the sound alone, I could have guessed the speedbike was at least an 800. I licked my lips at the sight of the sunlight reflecting off the chrome, but I looked away just in time before its owner could catch me.
Helmet still covering his face, he stalked past me, the scent of citrus and leather whipping through my senses, the hairs on my arm standing up in alarm. Naya gave me a look full of dark suggestions only my best friend could think up in such a small amount of time, but I shook my head at her and followed him from a distance as we walked into the building.
Focusing on my thesis was the only thing I cared about right now. If I worked my ass off, there was a good chance I could graduate before fall semester ended, and then I wouldn’t ever have to deal with Noah or any of these fucking assholes ever again.
“But youarestill coming to the homecoming corn maze thing, aren’t you?” Naya was already whining, like she knew I was going to find any reason possible to back out of a public event.
Naya and I had been pals since grade school, neighbors who grew up together on the same street. We became fast friends when we realized we both had five siblings. Our perfect match was confirmed with a dual obsession for the strange and unusual. After high school, we both applied to NPC for undergrad, and now that we were almost done, we would surely make plans to stay close.
Co-dependent was our vibe.
“Kyle Danvers asked to pick me up.” She grinned, and I delayed my reaction. “For the corn maze. Camila, are you even listening to me?” She huffed, not shying away from displaying her annoyance. “It’s that dumb twat, isn’t it?” She turned around, baring her teeth at the cheerleaders.
They gasped, freezing in place and allowing more distance to grow between us.
I was anxious, and rightfully so. Noah and I had been blurring the lines between cliques for three years, and now that our relationship was over, all the repressed dislike and forced smiles were sure to come flooding out like a broken dam. Exhibit A: the group of cheerleaders following behind me like a pack of hyenas who smelled an injured gazelle.
I crossed the threshold into the plant sciences wing, and the vultures behind me stopped circling, choosing instead to march on, straight to wherever they were needed most. I laughed at the thought of them even being needed somewhere.
“I’m not going.” I stood my ground as we placed our books down onto our table.
“Mila, don't be a pain in the ass. Who’s gonna make sure I get home safely without any roofies?” She nudged me.
“Bitch, you’d take the roofies yourself if someone offered,” I snarked, and we broke out in a loud laugh just as Dr. Harkins walked into the lab.
He raised an eyebrow. “Something funny, Miss Machado?” The corner of his lip tugged upward, but he had too much control over it to let any of us see.
Demetri Harkins was drool-worthy. I’d been studying under him for the last two years, ever since he and his doctoral degree in plant biology appeared at NPC out of nowhere and demanded to be fit into the curriculum. I changed my major from Biology to Botany the minute it became available.
It wasn’t because of his pitch black hair that sat perfectly groomed on top of his head, aside from the little wave that swooped down just above his eyes. It certainly wasn’t because of his bright green eyes or the tattoo of the Death Star that peeked out from his rolled-up shirt on the inside of his elbow. Itdefinitelyhad nothing to do with the way the sleeves perfectly squeezed his muscled biceps when he rolled them up every morning when he got to class.
