Filmed_ An Alpha Bad Boy Romance(5)

I walked through the center of campus, passed by the bell tower and the library, and made my way toward Anderson Hall. My first class was the one I was most excited for: Survey of Early American Films, 1901 – 1951. That time period in film history was so romantic to me; everything was new, every technique was just being discovered, the way to write and market a film was slowly being understood, and the big studios rose up around Hollywood and began to dominate the industry. It was full of gossip and intrigue and amazing stories. I breathed in the warm autumn air and smiled as hoards of lost-looking freshmen walked by.

Campus was perfect when the weather was nice. I wore my favorite sundress, clean white sneakers with white ankle socks, and a new backpack I got over the summer. I eyed up everyone around me, but I didn’t recognize anyone, except for the annoying kid who always sat on the Bell Tower’s steps and played his awful guitar music. That wasn’t surprising though, since Temple had thousands of kids. Still, I recognized a general pattern and flow, the way people sat on benches and ate on their breaks, professors hurrying through the crowds to make it in time for their next overfull class, and general maintenance guys lining up outside the pizza lunch trucks. I smiled and felt strangely at home.

I pushed open the door to Anderson and walked through the crowded downstairs atrium. My class was on the second floor, so I bypassed the packed line for the elevators, and started to climb the steps. Anderson was probably the most poorly designed building in the world. It had only two main elevators for twelve floors, and they were constantly packed like sardine cans. I always avoided them when possible. Usually, only freshmen and people on the uppermost levels took the elevators anyway.

After a short climb, I pushed out into the hall, and found room 237. I was ten minutes early, but I liked having time in case I couldn’t find the room. Temple’s campus was notoriously difficult to navigate, and rooms seemed to appear and disappear in different spots every semester. I sat down toward the back and began to unpack my bag, looking around at the other students.

People slowly filtered into the large room, taking up most spaces. With a few minutes left before the start of the class, Professor Johnson entered, looking haggard and tired. I had heard about him from my mom; he was supposedly brilliant, but incredibly weird. He sat down in front of the class and started to unpack his briefcase.

As Professor Johnson looked like he was about to start the lecture, two more students entered. The first one was a tall, slim blonde girl, wearing short jean shorts and a tight white T-shirt. She was the typical hot blonde girl, and I could have sworn I had seen her a hundred times before. The guy that followed her, however, took my breath away: it was Noah, grinning his usual cocky grin.

I couldn’t believe it. Noah Carterson, that asshole, was in my class, and was headed my way. The blonde skank led him into the back of the room, and as they passed by, Noah locked eyes with me. A small smirk replaced his grin, and he stopped next to me as he walked past.

“Hey there, polka dots,” he said quietly. I turned bright red.

“Hi, Noah,” I said, getting lost in his intense gaze.

“Fancy meeting you here. What’s the color today?”

My jaw dropped. Was he serious?

“Noah, come sit with me,” came the whiniest voice ever. We both looked over at the skank, gesturing impatiently for him to join her.

“Looks like your Barbie is calling,” I spat back.

“Tell me later then. I’d love another show.” He gave me a spine-melting smile, and then walked back to sit next to Stripper Barbie. I kept my head down, face bright red, and my heart was beating hard as excitement filled my chest.

I was seething and hot as Professor Johnson started his lecture. I couldn’t follow a single thing he said; it was all a blur of times, dates, and assignments. I was furious that Noah kept calling me “polka dots,” and couldn’t believe his nerve. He was walking around with the most cliché-looking skank I had ever seen, and he decides to stop and flirt with me right in front of her? It was insulting on so many levels, and yet I was flattered. I couldn’t help myself; he was wearing a V-neck shirt that showed off the top of a chest tattoo, his hair was pushed back and wavy, and his muscles looked perfect.

As soon as the class was finished, I shoved my stuff into my bag and rushed out the door. I didn’t want to give him another chance to imagine what color my underwear was, let alone have to engage with that horrible chick he was with. As I sped down the hall, I wondered if she was his girlfriend, but I doubted it. Based on what Chris told me, she was probably his most recent conquest.