Chapter 1: The First Collision 👩🏻🎓🌷✨️
(Jay’s POV)
If someone asked me what my biggest academic regret was, the answer would be simple and immediate:
Choosing Business Studies as my major.
NOT because I hated the subject.
But because of the monster that entered our department this semester.
Professor Keifer Watson.
21 years old.
Youngest professor on campus.
Rumored to be a genius.
Rich.
Arrogant.
Walks like he owns the entire college building.
And apparently…
MY new professor for Strategic Business Management.
Lucky me.
(Sarcasm. Extreme sarcasm.)
I was running late for class—again. My bag was half-zipped, my hair was a mess, and my coffee cup was still too hot to drink. As I reached the door of Room 316, I didn’t even check who was inside. I just pushed it open.
BAM.
My coffee almost spilled.
My heart almost fell out.
The entire class stared at me.
And at the front, wearing a crisp white shirt and a smirk too sharp for 9 AM, stood him.
Professor Keifer Watson.
The man I didn’t like the moment I saw him at orientation because he made a snarky comment about students who “submit assignments late because they oversleep.”
(He was obviously targeting me. We both knew it.)
“Miss… Mariano,” he said, glancing at the attendance sheet. “Late on the very first day. Impressive.”
His tone was polite.
His eyes were not.
His smirk was evil.
I sighed internally and walked to my seat. “Good morning, sir,” I muttered.
He tapped his pen. “You know, punctuality is a basic requirement in the business world. Or do you plan to be late for meetings too?”
I clenched my jaw.
gOd i hAtE hIm.
The class snickered. I glared at all of them individually.
He turned toward the board and began writing.
His handwriting was annoyingly perfect.
Great.
He’s talented, smart, rich and irritating.
The full package of disaster.
As the lecture continued, he asked questions non-stop.
And every. single. time.
His eyes landed on me.
“Miss Mariano, define market segmentation.”
“Miss Mariano, explain Porter’s Five Forces.”
“Miss Mariano, what is strategic positioning?”
Bro I am not even kidding—
I felt like he was targeting me on PURPOSE.
Finally, after one and a half hours of pure torture, he dismissed the class. Everyone rushed out, but as I tried to escape—
“Miss Mariano. Stay back.”
Me: 😃🤡 kill me
I slowly turned. “Yes, sir?”
He folded his arms. “Why were you late?”
“My… coffee took time,” I said honestly.
His eyebrow twitched. “So caffeine is more important than my class?”
“You said that. Not me.”
His eyes widened slightly—like he didn’t expect me to talk back.
“Be careful, Miss Mariano. A sharp tongue won’t help you pass my subject.”
“And an ego won’t help you teach better,” I muttered under my breath.
He heard it.
I know he did.
His jaw clenched. I smirked.
“Get out,” he said.
“Gladly,” I replied.
And THAT was the official beginning of our Professor–Student WAR.
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(Keifer’s POV)
The moment she walked into my class late—with messy hair, hot coffee, and that sleepy annoyed expression—I knew she would be trouble.
Jay Mariano.
Of course.
Of course it had to be her again.
I remembered her from orientation.
She was the girl who asked me if the “no late assignments” rule also applied to professors.
In front of everyone.
Humiliating me.
Embarrassing me.
Challenging me.
Ever since that day, I had decided:
I don’t like her.
She’s loud.
Stubborn.
Chaotic.
Reckless.
And her eyes…
Way too expressive. They show every emotion like an open book.
When she entered the class today, almost spilling her coffee, looking like she fought three storms and a zombie apocalypse—
I had to stop myself from laughing.
But instead, I went with:
“Miss Mariano, late on the first day?”
Because she irritates me.
Because she challenges me.
Because she talks back.
She’s the only student who looks me straight in the eyes instead of pretending I’m some young genius professor they should worship.
And that annoys me.
More than I’d like to admit.
After class, when I asked her why she was late, she had the audacity to say:
“My coffee took time.”
I almost choked.
Is she real?
Does she think she’s funny?
But what actually irritated me was what she mumbled after:
“An ego won’t help you teach better.”
Her voice was soft, but I heard it.
My ears WORK, Miss Mariano.
I let her go because if I stayed longer, I might have said something I shouldn’t.
But one thing was clear:
She hates me.
I hate her.
Perfect.
This semester was going to be chaos.
And I wasn’t going to lose this war.
She wanted to challenge me?
Fine.
Let’s see how long she lasts.
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