Chapter 236: 236 | The Person You’d Most Expect
Chloe found a seat near the middle of the U, and Jordan slid in beside her. Kumiko wasn’t in this class, which was probably for the best since she had a tendency to take notes so enthusiastically that her pen movements became audible.
Other students filtered in. Devon Park, who apparently existed in multiple classes like some kind of academic ghost. Tanner Morrison, the football player who always looked like he was fighting to stay awake but somehow contributed surprisingly insightful comments when called upon.
Hana Kimura, the Japanese exchange student, sat across the U from Jordan. She was small and serene, with long black hair and an elegant posture that made her look like she’d wandered out of a classical painting. She had a sketchbook open on her desk and was drawing something with quiet focus.
And then Cameron Mitchell walked in.
Jordan’s jaw tightened involuntarily.
Cameron was everything Jordan had hated about himself reflected in someone else. The unearned confidence. The casual assumption that the world existed for his benefit. The way he moved through space like everyone else was just background decoration for his main character moment.
He was wearing a crisp collared shirt under a Patagonia vest, designer jeans, and sneakers that probably cost more than Jordan’s entire wardrobe. His dirty blonde hair was styled with expensive product, and his smile was the practiced expression of someone who’d learned early that charm was a weapon.
Behind him came Eliza Hartwell.
Jordan’s ex.
The girl who’d used him for thousands of dollars. The girl who’d called him "just some guy from class" while Cameron groped her in a hotel parking lot. The girl who’d never actually kissed him, never held his hand, never done anything to suggest their relationship was real.
She looked the same. Honey-blonde hair in perfect beachy waves. Pretty face with a practiced smile. Clothes that were aspirational without quite reaching the Tier-1 level she so desperately wanted to inhabit.
But something was different.
Her eyes found Jordan immediately. They stayed there.
Not with contempt or dismissal, the way she’d looked at him on Christmas Day. Something else. Something that looked almost like regret, mixed with confusion, mixed with a third emotion Jordan didn’t want to identify.
He held her gaze for exactly two seconds.
Then he looked away.
He’d spent enough time on Eliza Hartwell. He’d spent enough money and emotion and self-respect on a girl who saw him as an ATM with legs. She didn’t get to matter anymore.
She didn’t get to make him feel anything.
Professor Delgado swept into the room at exactly 1:00 PM, coffee cup in one hand and a stack of papers in the other. Her heels clicked against the floor as she moved to the podium, setting down her materials with the casual confidence of someone who knew she owned every room she walked into.
"Alright, people." Her voice was warm and slightly raspy, the kind of voice that made you lean in to hear better. "I hope you all ate something substantial, because we’re about to make your lives significantly more complicated."
A murmur ran through the class. Delgado smiled, showing teeth.
"Next week, we’re doing debates."
The murmur became a groan.
"Oh, don’t give me that." She waved a dismissive hand. "You’re all Communications and Business and whatever else majors. If you can’t argue a point in front of forty people, you’re going to have a real hard time in the workforce."
She picked up her stack of papers and began walking around the U, distributing sheets to each student.
"The topic is economic inequality and social mobility. Specifically, whether the American Dream is still achievable or whether it’s become a myth that perpetuates systemic disadvantage."
Jordan accepted his paper. It was a detailed brief outlining both sides of the debate, along with suggested reading and research directions.
"You’ll be working in pairs," Delgado continued. "I’ve already assigned partners. No trading. No complaining. No ’my partner is a total idiot’ emails at 3 AM. Yes, I’ve gotten those. Yes, they were about the person you’d expect."
She glanced at Cameron, who had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.
"When I call your name and your partner’s name, raise your hand so you can see each other. Then figure out when you’re meeting to prepare."
She consulted her list.
"Chloe Kim and Hana Kimura."
Chloe’s hand went up. Across the U, Hana raised hers as well, her serene expression unchanged. They made brief eye contact and nodded at each other.
Jordan felt a small relief. Hana seemed nice. Quiet, but observant. Chloe would do fine with her.
"Cameron Mitchell and Tanner Morrison."
Cameron’s hand rose with the casual arrogance of someone who expected to be called first. Tanner, in the back row, gave a sleepy wave.
That pairing made sense. Cameron was loud and confident and wrong about roughly half the things he said. Tanner would balance him out with actual insight and the kind of calm demeanor that came from regularly getting hit by three-hundred-pound men.
"Jordan McKnight and..."
Jordan waited.
Please not Eliza. Please not Eliza. Please literally anyone except Eliza.
"Eliza Hartwell."
Of course.
Of course it was Eliza.
The universe, the System, whatever cosmic force controlled Jordan McKnight’s life, had apparently decided that today was the day for maximum emotional chaos.
His hand went up.
Across the room, Eliza’s hand rose as well.
Their eyes met again.
Eliza’s expression was impossible to read. A combination of nervousness and defiance and something else, something that flickered across her face too quickly for Jordan to catch.
He kept his own expression neutral. Completely blank. The face of someone who had no particular feelings about this situation whatsoever.
Inside, his brain was screaming.
Chloe’s hand found his knee under the desk. She squeezed once. A silent message of support.
Professor Delgado finished calling out the remaining pairs and returned to the front of the room.
"You have the rest of class to meet with your partners and start planning. I expect preliminary thesis statements emailed to me by Friday. Questions?"
Silence.
"Excellent. Get to work."
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