Chapter 4 Should I Drop Out

Cheska

This school year is a slow-motion car crash.

First, there was Damian and the heat of that bar. Then Mr. Serrano and the threat of my grades slipping through my fingers. Now the new dean looks like he was hand-picked from the deepest pits of hell just to ruin my life.

I walk through the hallway like a ghost. I don't even see the other students until I slam hard into something solid.

"Cheska!"

I look up to see Kai. She is grinning and clutching her binder to her chest. She has enough energy to power the entire building even though it is late afternoon.

"What's your next class? Who's the prof?" she asks.

I pull my phone out of my bag, squinting at the digital schedule. "Precalc. But the professor's name is blank."

Kai leans in to see the screen. "Oh, that's the new guy. Room 213, right?" I nod. She leans closer, her voice dropping to a gossipy whisper. "I heard from a friend in third period that he's a total breeze. He just hands out Sudoku puzzles and lets everyone chill on their AirPods. It is basically a free hour."

A wave of relief washes over me. "Thank god. I need one easy win today."

"Good luck, babe. I'm late for lit," Kai says, tapping my forehead with her knuckles before disappearing into the crowd.

I start toward the stairs, but someone grabs my arm. I spin around to find Kier. He has that cocky smirk on his face, the one that says he is always up to something. He throws a heavy arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side so hard I stumble. Before I can steady myself, he leans down and presses a firm kiss to my temple.

"Hey babe. Heading to class?" he asks.

"Yeah," I mutter, trying to ignore the prickle of annoyance at how tight he's holding me. "Actually, your stepdad gave me a ride this morning."

Kier scoffs as we head up the stairs. "Really? He was in a shit mood today. I don't know what his problem is, but he's been riding my ass since breakfast."

The bell rings, a sharp, metallic sound that echoes through the halls. We hurry into Room 213. Kier holds the door open for me, a move so uncharacteristically gentlemanly that I actually pause. Since when did he care about manners?

The room is quiet. Most students are already hunched over their phones. We take seats in the middle row, and Kier immediately turns around to start talking basketball with the guys behind us.

"Good afternoon, class. Sorry I'm a few minutes behind," a voice says.

My heart stops. I know that voice. I know the way it vibrates in the air.

No. No way.

"I'm Mr. Delmar. I'll be your Precalculus professor this year," Damian says. He is standing at the desk, calmly straightening a stack of papers.

He looks incredible in a crisp dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up to reveal those forearms I remember all too well. I glance at Kier, but he's still laughing with his friends, completely oblivious. I dig my elbow into Kier's side. He doesn't move. I hit him harder, a sharp jab that finally makes him snap his head toward the front of the room.

"What?" he asks, annoyed.

I just point.

Kier's jaw drops. "What the fuck? No. Freaking. Way."

We both sit there, frozen. Damian looks up, his dark eyes scanning the room until they lock onto mine. The air in the room suddenly feels thin, like he's sucking all the oxygen out of it. His gaze shifts to Kier, sitting right next to me, and I see his expression harden for a split second. He clears his throat and looks back down at his desk.

The tension between them is thick enough to choke on.

"Let's start," Damian says, his voice professional but tight. "There is a packet of Sudoku puzzles in front of you. You have the hour. No rush."

The room fills with the sound of rustling paper. I try to catch Kier's eye, but he is staring at his stepdad with a look of pure disbelief.

"Babe," I whisper, nudging his paper. "Just do the puzzles. You can talk to him after."

"Tsk. Fine," Kier grumbles, his face darkening.

Twenty minutes go by in a blur of numbers and silent stares. Suddenly, Kier stands up. He grabs his paper and marches down to the front desk. I watch them from my seat, my pulse racing. I can't hear what they are saying, but Damian's face is a mask of cold stone. Kier is gesturing wildly, his voice a low, angry hiss.

Then, without warning, Kier turns and bolts out of the classroom.

The door slams shut behind him. Damian lets out a long, heavy sigh that seems to echo my own exhaustion. He sinks into his chair, looking like a man carrying the weight of the world.

"You have forty minutes left," Damian announces.

He doesn't look up from the papers he is grading. I try to focus on the grid of numbers in front of me, but I can feel his eyes. Every few seconds, it feels like a warm weight settles on my skin. I tell myself I am being vain. I tell myself I am imagining it. But the air in the room is getting thicker, making it hard to swallow.

The bell rings, sharp and sudden. Students scramble, shoving notebooks into bags and rushing for the door. I look down at my half-empty page and swear under my breath.

"Shit. I'm not done," I whisper.

I wait until the room clears before I walk up to his desk. My heart is thumping against my ribs like a trapped bird.

"Uhm, Mr. Delmar? Can I take this home? I didn't finish," I ask. I scratch the back of my neck, feeling small under the fluorescent lights.

He stands up slowly. He moves closer, invading my space just enough to make my pulse jump. A small, devastating smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"Sorry, Cheska. I can't let you do that," he says. He leans back against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms. The fabric of his shirt strains against his chest. "But you can stay here and finish it while I grade the others. If you want."

He gives me a little smirk that feels like a dare. My mind goes completely blank. Why does he have to look so good in a professional uniform? The sharp lines of his collar and the way he carries himself make my skin flush. For a split second, I am back at the bar, tasting him, feeling the heat of his tongue against mine.

I need to get it together. He is Kier's stepfather. He is my professor. This is wrong. But as I look at his lips, I realize I am a liar. I want to be in this room with him.

"Really? I can stay? Thank you, Sir. I really need to pass this year," I say, trying to sound normal. I take a seat at the front desk, right under his nose, and start working.

Half an hour crawls by. I have two pages left when the door swings open. My stomach drops. Mr. Rivera and Mr. Serrano walk in like they own the place.

The holy trinity of men who hate me is now in one room.

"Hey, Damian. How was the first day?" Rivera asks.

"Not bad," Damian replies. His voice is smooth, but I see his eyes flick toward me for a microsecond. "I'm keeping things light."

I keep my head down, pretending to be buried in Sudoku, but I can hear every word.

"Students these days are something else," Rivera starts, his voice dripping with annoyance. "I met a cheerleader backstage earlier. Mouthy. Hot-headed. No respect."

I grip my pen until my knuckles turn white. He is talking about me.

"Tell me about it," Serrano adds with a dry laugh. "I had a student last year who thought the only goal of my class was to beat a midnight deadline. Kids today are a mess."

I want to melt into the floor. I want to vanish into the shadows. Then, I hear Damian speak.

"Sounds like you both had a rough morning. What's the name? I'll keep an eye out."

Rivera and Serrano answer at the exact same time.

"Cheska Vega."

I close my eyes tight, covering my face with my hand. This cannot be happening.

"You mean that Cheska Vega?" Damian asks.

I can hear the grin in his voice. I look up, and he is pointing directly at me. Rivera and Serrano both freeze, looking away like they've been caught in a lie. I am burning up. I feel like I am on fire.

I scramble to my feet, grabbing my paper. "Thanks for the extra time, Mr. Delmar," I mutter. I drop the packet on his desk and practically run out of the room.

The humid air outside hits me like a physical blow, but I welcome it. Anything is better than the electric tension in that classroom. I pull out my phone, my fingers shaking as I text Kai.

I am never going back. I'm dropping out. Today was a funeral for my dignity.

I hide my face behind my folder as I walk toward the gate, feeling like the entire world is laughing at me. Congratulations, Cheska. It's only day one, and you've already been branded by every man on campus.