His biker girl, Her biker prince

TESSA.

College is supposed to be the best years of your life. For me, it feels like prison, just without the orange jumpsuit.

Every class is the same. Professors who think they're gods, students who act like they're auditioning for reality TV, and me, stuck in the middle wondering how the hell I ended up here. I didn't come to Westbridge College to make friends or wave pompoms at football games. I came because it was far enough from home that my mother couldn't breathe down my neck every second.

Not that it's been much better here.

Take last week, for example. Business Ethics, Monday morning, and I was already late. I slipped into the back row wearing a short skirt, a cropped top, and my favorite black boots that click way too loudly on the tile. Half the class turned their heads, and I swear I could feel the judgment dripping off them like cheap perfume.

Professor Grant paused mid-sentence, pushed his glasses up, and let his eyes crawl down my legs in a way that made my skin crawl. He coughed, pretended to adjust his tie, then went back to lecturing about integrity, which was hilarious coming from him.

The girls in the front row whispered, smirking behind their manicures, probably calling me every name they could think of. I didn't care. I crossed my legs, leaned back in my chair, and smiled like I owned the room. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that nothing drives people crazier than confidence.

Still, it was exhausting. The fake smiles, the stares, the silent competition. College was supposed to feel like freedom, but to me, it was just another cage.

Then I met Nova.

It was after class, when I was heading out, still annoyed at Professor Grant's hungry eyes. I heard someone behind me mutter, "Creep."

I turned, and there she was, dark hair, black eyeliner, ripped jeans, and the kind of don't-mess-with-me energy you can feel from across the hall.

"You saw that too?" I asked, adjusting my bag.

"Hard not to," she said, rolling her eyes. "Guy practically drooled on his tie."

I laughed, for real this time. Most people would've just whispered or pretended not to notice. She didn't care. She said it loud enough for anyone to hear. That was the moment I knew Nova wasn't like the others.

We started walking together after that, sitting next to each other in lectures, comparing sarcastic notes about how ridiculous everything was. She didn't ask about my past, didn't pry about why I liked riding my bike instead of going to sorority mixers. She told me she rides too. That was the first time I felt my heart race in weeks.

Now I'm sitting in class, counting the seconds until the clock hits freedom. Finally, the professor says, "Class is over. Submit the project before next week."

The room explodes with noise.

Nova leans over, sliding her books into her bag. "I've got a surprise for