Ambivalent

*Chapter One*

I have loved a girl for eleven years, two months, twenty-four days and a handful of hours. Every time she walks inside a room, my eyes automatically search for her and when they find her figure, my heart starts beating like crazy and a zoo of butterflies sets free in my stomach.

I always thought I would get over this crush I have for her in a few years, but it only turned into love. Crazy, stupid love I have for a girl that hates me.

I look up at the white ceiling on my campus shared room and sigh. I have tried ignoring the feelings I have for her, I have tried to focus on some other girl, I have tried a million different things, but nothing seems to work. I guess my stupid, soft heart only wants that girl.

Camila.

Her name sounds so sweet on my lips. The protagonist of my dreams, my thoughts when I wake up and when I close my eyes just before I drift off to sleep.

The girl I fell in love with in second grade when I broke that stupid pencil. Maybe if I wasn't such a careless kid, I could have my girl now, just like Wes has Stassie.

I check my phone and find a text from Wes waiting to be replied to.

'You won't believe who I just saw'

'Who did you hallucinate with now?' I ask and he's quick to reply. Must be waiting for Stassie, I think. Those two are inseparable, ever since day one in sixth grade.

'Camila Hudson'

I stare at the text for a couple of minutes, my brain trying to process this piece of information while my heart starts beating erratically. Stupid heart, I think to myself.

I stand up from my bed and get ready in–what must be–the longest time a man has taken to get ready.

I'm running in late for class when I bump into someone, coffee spilling all over the floor.

"I'm sorry-"

"Yeah, you must say that a lot." Angry green eyes meet mine and I think I stopped breathing for a moment.

She's really here.

Okay. Don't panic.

You just spilled the girl's coffee all over the floor. The girl who also doesn't like you for breaking her pencil in second grade...or for breaking her window with a football in sixth grade...or for accidentally making her be stung by a bee in seventh grade right before she had a date with her first boyfriend...

Yeah...I don't think we're on a good path with her right now.

"So? I asked you a question." She crosses her arms over her chest, the white crop top showing a little bit of cleavage but not too much. I love that top, and she pairs it with those short jean shorts...Jesus Christ...

I clear my throat before scratching the back of my head. "Could you please repeat that?"

Camila rolls her eyes before checking me out, her gaze burning my skin even though we're at least a foot apart. I shift on the spot, suddenly self-conscious about everything. Does she like what she sees? I'm I dressed properly? Will she throw the remnants of her coffee on my white buttoned shirt?

"I asked in what class you are."

Oh.

"Uhm, I'm a law student."

"Great," she mutters under her breath. "Come on, you already made us late for class as it is, don't make me miss it too."

I nod and awkwardly walk behind her since she seems to know where to go much better than me. Is she making a list of things I've done over the years so she continues to hate me? I wonder what was the worst thing.