Everything, Everywhere

Rays of sunshine peeking through her blinds are what woke Alina up this morning. 

“Shit.” She cursed, realizing she slept through her alarm. Jumping out of bed, she rushed to the bathroom of her private dorm.

She’s a fourth-year student at the prestigious Hawthorne Institute of Business and Strategy. Her final year is meant to set up her future. The classes she takes will be tougher and more in depth; they could make or break her career. The professors of these classes are at the top of their field. A recommendation letter from one could mean the difference between working at a mid-tier consulting firm in the middle of nowhere or a Fortune 500 company in a big city.

Alina checks her phone. 8:39

She has 21 minutes to shower, change, and rush across campus to ensure she is not late for her last first-day classes. Of course, her first class is the most important.

Professor Hayes’s Strategic Market Theory class is legendary. Out of hundreds of candidates, only 40 seniors get into it each year. The coursework and quantity arebrutal,but the information taken from this class almost guarantees a future in marketing for those who pass the class.

If the class is legendary, then the professor is mythic.

Professor Hayes is known to be the strictest and most demanding professor on campus. He doesn’t give out free A’s and certainly does not give out any special favors. Every year, he writes out a singular recommendation letter for a truly gifted student. A letter from him 100% guarantees a position at a top company. Almost no one outmatches his influence in the business world.

After showering, Alina brushes through her hair and puts on the first thing she sees that could be considered business casual. While her university has no strict dress code, it is expected for upperclassmen to dress the part they want to be.

She checks the time again. 8:51

Internally screaming at herself, she grabs her laptop and supplies, shoves them into her bag, and rushes out the door. The class is held at Hawthorne Hall, which, of course, is one of the farthest from her dorm.

With a mix of speed walking and running, she managed to reach the Hall at exactly 9:00, which did her no good since class started at 9:00 sharp.

Quickly walking through the halls, she reached the class 4 minutes late.

The door was closed, and she could hear a voice talking inside.

Mustering up all her courage, Alina opens the door as quietly as possible and tries to slip into the room unnoticed.

Which did not happen.

The door let out a loud creak as she opened it, which led to forty pairs of eyes being set on her all at once.

Professor Hayes stopped in the middle of his sentence and stared at her.

Mouthing a quiet sorry, she rushes to an empty seat in the middle of the room, his eyes following her every move. She quickly takes out her belongings and settles into the seat.

“As I was saying, lateness will never be tolerated. If you arrive late to the class, don’t even bother entering the room. Is that understood, Miss…?”

Looking up, she noticed his piercing glare directed at her.

“W-Woods. I’m so sorry. I wo-”

He cuts her off while walking toward her seat. “I do not need your excuses. I just need to make sure you understand the rules.” He throws down a syllabus on her desk. “Don’t let it happen again.”

She goes to respond, but his harsh glare cuts her off, so she resolves just to nod her head.

He walked back down to his podium and continued reviewing his expectations and rules for the class.

“This course isn’t designed to teach youwhatto think. It’s here to teach you how tooutthinkyour competition. Strategic Marketing doesn’t care about how well you can network or how well you can deliver your little pitch. It cares about your efficiency, ability to draw consumers in, and how you can manipulate the market to sell.

I will not tolerate laziness. I will not excuse unpreparedness. If you want to coast, transfer into something fluffier—Intro to Marketing is down the hall.

Throw everything you know about Marketing into the trash. This is a whole different way of thinking. In this class, you will often be wrong, which is fine as long as you realize it quickly enough.

I do not care who you are or what you have done. Every one of you has done something impressive enough to earn you a place in this room, but believe me, it will not be enough to keep you here. If you survive this class and impress me, you’ll have something better than a grade.

You’ll have a name that opens doors.”

Cocky as all hell.

That is the only thought that came to Alina’s mind as Professor Hayes ended his class. The entire 60-minute class was spent reviewing the syllabus. Between the weekly research papers and projects, hundreds of pages of assigned reading are expected to be completed before classes, and pop quizzes are almost guaranteed to happen at least twice a week. Classes were every day except Friday, which was saved for “self-study”, which was absolutely needed if students were expected to finish all the assigned work.

Alina finished packing her stuff and walked to the door until Professor Hayes called out her name.

“Miss Woods. Come see me.”

Heart pounding in her chest, she looked at him and walked towards where he stood by the desk, arms folded. His expression was unreadable—cold and sharp.

“I’ve heard good things about you,” he said. “Full scholarship. Top of your class. Disciplined. Focused. Professional.”

Alina swallowed. “I—I am, Professor. This morning was—”

“As I said, I’m not interested in excuses,” he said, tone crisp but quiet. “I’m interested in perfection.”

She tried to hold his gaze, but it was like staring down the barrel of a gun.

“I teach this course with one assumption,” Hayes continued. “That everyone who walks through that door wants to succeed. Not just pass. Not just graduate. Succeed”

He stepped closer, not threatening—but impossible to ignore.

“So when someone with your recommendations and brilliance walks in late, unprepared, looking like she just rolled out of bed,” his eyes flicked over her, “I don’t see a bad morning. I see wasted potential.”

That stung more than she expected.

“I expected better from you, Miss Woods. So did the people who recommended you.”

There was no anger in his voice—only disappointment. And somehow, that was worse.

“You want a seat at the table?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “Start acting like you’ve earned it.”

She nodded quickly. “I will. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“I know.” he said, turning back toward his desk, already dismissing her. “You get one mistake. This was yours.”

When she finally exited the room, she felt like she could breathe again. His presence was all-consuming and intoxicating, and add the fact that he berated her like a child. Alina wasn’t sure she could last the entire year with him. Unlike most college classes, Professor Hayes’s class lasted the whole year with him. The first semester consisted of lectures, papers, and projects, while the second semester would focus on real-world applications.

Walking out of Hawthorne Hall, Alina walks to one of the various dining halls to grab something to eat before her class at noon.

When she enters the dining hall, she walks over to one of the cooking stations and grabs a premade yogurt when she hears her name.

“Alina! Over here, girl!”

Looking around, she spots her best friends, Margot and Jess. Alina met Margot in their freshman year when they were randomly paired to be roommates and Margot later introduced Alina to Jess. From that moment on, they were all best friends. Margot was an international business major and was being groomed by her parents to take over their international shipping conglomerate when she was older.

Jess’s mom was the CEO of a big accounting firm out of New York. At a school like this, everyone had parents who had already made it in the business world. School was just a formality, like the final polish on fine china.

Everyone except Alina.

Her parents were simple, small business owners in Boston. Getting into a school like Hawthorne was like a dream to Alina. She worked her ass off through high school with internships and classes, making sure to graduate valedictorian. Scholarship meant that Alina did not have to pay for tuition and housing, which is why she still lived on campus as a Senior.

Alina walked to Margot and hugged her as tightly as possible.

She slid into the booth beside Margot, who was already halfway through a smoothie bowl and green juice.

Margot grinned. “Finally! I was starting to think you were ghosting us.”

“Sorry, the line was insane.”

“So,” Jess said, leaning in, “how was everyone’s summer? Margot, go first. You always win.”

Margot tossed her hair over one shoulder like she didn’t want to brag—but absolutely did. “We did the Amalfi Coast. Then St. Barts. Dad insisted I sit in on a few investor meetings with the board back in London. Boring as hell, but they’re already calling me ‘the future of the company.’” She sipped her green juice. “Which, like, duh.”

“God, I’m jealous,” Jess said, spearing a cucumber. “My mom had me shadow her firm’s CFO again. I told her I’d rather rot in Milan, but she said the real runway is financial modeling, not fashion.” She rolled her eyes. “Parents, right?”

They both laughed.

Alina offered a tight smile. “Yeah, totally.”

Margot turned to her. “What about you, ’Lina? You disappear every summer like a ghost. Where do you even go?”

“Oh… nowhere, really.” She picked up her fork, hoping they wouldn’t press. “Just went back home to Boston. Took a couple of online classes. Worked.”

“Worked where?”

“My parents’ bookstore and I babysat a bit for family friends.”

Jess blinked. “Wow. That’s… productive.”

Alina forced a laugh. “Glamorous, right?”

Margot made a sympathetic noise. “That’s dedication. My parents would freak if I tried to work during school. They say I need to ‘preserve my energy’ for legacy planning.”

Alina nodded slowly, even though the idea of “preserving energy” felt like a joke. Her energy went to affording textbooks, balancing double shifts at a campus cafe, and keeping her scholarship GPA above the invisible cliff edge she could never afford to fall off.

“Honestly,” Jess said, “you’re probably better off. All I did this summer was fight with my mom and stare at spreadsheets.”

“Same,” Margot sighed dramatically. “If I have to sit through one more call about shipping logistics, I swear I’ll fake a scandal.”

They laughed again, easy and light, untouched.

Alina smiled with them, but her fingers tightened slightly around her spoon.

The room felt loud. Her food tasted like paper.

She glanced down at her phone, with her schedule pulled up on it, tucked beside her tray. Professor Wilder’s class was still over an hour away.

And just for a moment… she wondered if either of them would remember her summer. Alina brushed away that thought as quickly as it came. These two were her best friends.

Focusing back onto the conversation, they were talking about the classes they were taking this year.

“God, Alina. I still can’t believe you made it into Professor Hayes’s class this year. That class is crazy hard.” Jess said exasperated.

Margot leaned in further to the conversation. “Wait—you’reinHayes’s class? I thought that section was locked before registration even opened.”

“I know, seriously. That class is impossible to get into. They say it’s, like, hand-picked.” Jess exclaimed while picking at her salad.

Alina ate a spoonful of her yogurt again, slower this time. “I guess I got lucky.”

Margot narrowed her eyes. Not mean, just curious in that vaguely patronizing way.. “But… like, how? Hayes only takes seniors with board connections or those business case competition kids. His class is practically invite-only.”

“Scholarship perks?” Jess offered, not unkindly—just naïve.

Alina forced a smile. “I’ve had a 4.0 since freshman year. Maybe that helped.”

Jess tilted her head. “Still wild. Even Evan couldn’t get in and his daddonated a whole wing.”

Margot’s brows lifted. “Honestly, you’re set if you get even a B in that class. But if Hayes writes you a rec, it basically guarantees you a spot in any grad program or exec fast-track.”

Alina knew. That’s why she’d applied, why she’d sent her carefully worded email to the department head a month early, and why she knew she had created a giant problem for herself.

When she walked in late and caught Hayes’s eye, she knew that she might have just destroyed her future.

Margot started talking about another teacher already having floated off from the topic of Hayes.

“Words can not begin to explain how excited I am about having Wilder as a professor this year” Margot said with a dreamy look in her eyes and speared a strawberry from her bowl and smirked. “That man could read the syllabus in Latin and I’d still be on the edge of my seat.”

Jess laughed. “Right? He’s like, unfair hot. And he actuallysmiles. Unlike Hayes, who looks like he’s one coffee short of setting someone on fire.”

Alina gave a soft laugh, pushing her granola around, not really eating.

“He’s just… chill,” Margot went on. “Funny, passionate, weirdly into case studies about luxury perfume brands—remember that one from freshman year?”

Jess nodded, leaning forward. “And his lectures don’t feel like lectures. He talks like he’s telling a story. And everyone always says heremembersnames. Like, he looks at you like youmatter.”

Alina’s fingers stilled on her fork.

Jess wiggled her brows. “You’ve got him this semester with us too, right?”

Alina nodded slowly. “Next period.”

Margot grinned. “Lucky girl. Hayes in the morning, Wilder in the afternoon? You’re either going to be terrifyingly brilliant by December or completely emotionally destroyed.”

“Or both,” Jess said cheerfully. “Either way—god tier professors. You’re in for it.”

Alina tried to smile again, but there was a knot forming in her stomach. She remembered how Hayes’s voice had gone sharp when he said her name. How still the room had grown. How seen she felt.

And now Wilder.

Another man with a reputation. Another man who wouldseeher.

Conversation flowed easily through Margot and Jess, with Alina occasionally nodding her head or saying short answers. But not for long. Margot was the first to check her watch.

“Fifteen minutes,” she said, brushing invisible lint from her linen blouse. “We should go if we want decent seats.”

Jess groaned. “Ugh. Not ready for back-to-back lectures. My brain’s still on Aperol spritz time.”

They all stood. Alina threw away her half-empty bowl, wiping her hands on a napkin. The afternoon’s heat pressed against her skin as they walked across the courtyard. Everything shimmered with late-summer gold.

The Prescott Building loomed ahead—sleek glass, steel accents, the university’s pride and joy. Its newest building. State-of-the-art everything. You couldn’t even breathe in there without it being counted as data.

Jess held the door open with her shoulder. “Room 203, right?”

“Wilder always teaches in 203,” Margot said, confidently striding ahead in heels far too bold for syllabus week. “Best lighting. Best acoustics. You know he’s particular.”

Alina followed them up the stairs, heart thudding.

Inside, the classroom was already half full. Students chatted over laptops, a low buzz of excitement and caffeine. Alina slid into a seat near the middle while Margot and Jess took the seats just beside her. The room quieted as the minute hand ticked toward the hour.

And then he walked in.

Professor Wilder didn’t just enter—hearrived.

Dark slacks. Rolled sleeves. No tie, but he didn’t need one. His presence made the room feel smaller. Closer. He set a leather-bound folder on the front desk and looked up, eyes sweeping the room like he was memorizing every face. His gaze wasn’t hurried.

It landed on Alina—and lingered.

“Welcome,” he said, voice smooth, deep, almost amused. “I’m Professor Wilder. Marketing and Consumer Psychology. But I’d prefer if you called this classwhy people want what they want.”

A few people chuckled.

He smiled, just slightly. “This semester, we’ll be deconstructing obsession. Influence. Desire. Everything from Super Bowl ads to cult brands to why your friend suddenly wants a pair of five-hundred-dollar shoes she swore she hated last week.”

More laughter now. But Alina didn’t laugh.

Because when he said “desire,” his eyes were on her again.

“And before anyone asks—yes, attendance matters. Yes, I call on people at random. And yes,” he said, leaning casually against the desk, “I’ll remember your name if you talk enough.”

He looked at her again. Like he already did.

Alina sat still, every part of her buzzing.

She was used to being invisible. Used to being overlooked, underestimated, easily dismissed.

But now, Hayes had seen her.

And so had Wilder.

And neither of them looked away.