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“I have to play it straight for a while,” Kurt continues, even though I didn’t ask for more clarity.

I hum, but it probably comes out more like a grunt.

“Oop! Excuse me!” I whip my head to the right at a familiar voice, finding the source of it and feeling that hit of…something when I look at her.

Shae Rivers.

Her thick, coily hair bunches high on the top of her head, and her colorful skirt and sleeveless shirt stand in direct contrast to all the unspoken uniforms most Econ and business majors wear.

From the moment I saw her sprawled on the ground outside the building, her energy drew me in. Yet, the last time I saw her, she ran away from me.

Again.

But right now, as I look at her, all I can say is I’m curious about and enamored by her. She seems so free, but the more I’ve watched her over the past few weeks, the more I can’t help but think she’s actually a lot like me.

Now, in the middle of the atrium, she’s managed to brush past another student, except her long canvas bag doesn’t make it, tangling with the other student’s rolling backpack.

As they detach themselves, I can’t help but notice how soft to the touch her bronze skin looks.

Hell, all of her looks soft.

Kurt ruins my moment of lustful thought when he opens his mouth and says, “You got a thing for Maya Angelou over there?”

Sliding my eyes to the side, I give him my attention as Shae clears the atrium, but don’t respond to his comment.

People move in all directions as the three-minute countdown to the beginning of class starts. “I bet she smokes hella weed.”

It’s almost like a reflex when I slow down abruptly and stick out my foot.

As expected, Kurt trips over my size fourteens.

“Fuck, dude!” he yells, and the sound rings into the dome covering the rotunda.

I spare him a brief glance, arching my eyebrow as I follow after Shae.

A blonde hustles over to help him off the floor. At least I got him to stop fucking following me.

I slide into the classroom and settle into my seat before the clock hits the top of the hour. True to his word, Professor Hansen closes the door and stalks to the lectern.

“Mr.Sandoval, you’re paired with Miss Rivers.” Professor Hansen’s voice cuts through my thoughts, and I wouldn’t dare indicate I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about.

Still, I find the back of Shae’s head just in time for her to turn around, eyeing me. She doesn’t look angry, but she doesn’t look pleased, either. Professor Hansen rattles off a few more pairings before continuing.

“Your assignment is to design a startup incubator proposal, specifically aimed at fostering economic growth in underserved communities.” Professor Hansen’s eyes scan the room, pausing just long enough on each pair to convey he’s serious. “You will each identify one real community and outline a full business plan to support local entrepreneurs there. Think of this as a mix between a business pitch and a social impact report.”

Professor Hansen passes out a packet of papers—our assignment rubric. I take one from the stack and pass it down the row as my mind races, already considering the angles—publicity potential, investment impact, and the opportunity to hone my own approach to community-based projects.

Professor Hansen keeps going. “For your selected community, you’ll need to address the unique challenges they face; propose viable, profitable solutions; and show exactly how those solutions could be implemented with a realistic budget. In other words, you’re designing a program that would actually attract investors.”

Shae glances back at me, and there’s a glint of something in her eyes that could either be irritation or amusement.

The more the assignment settles in, the more I feel that energy in my body again. It crackles in my hands, my fingertips. This feeling is….

Professor Hansen goes on. “I’ll be looking for creativity, practicality, and cultural awareness—your plan should demonstrate you understand the community, not just from a business perspective but from a social and cultural one as well. You’ll need to speak to leaders, residents, and potential partners in the area. This isn’t just a numbers exercise.”

The room falls silent. For many of my classmates, going into underserved communities means going into places they’ve never been before.

Unlike them, I’ve volunteered around Chicago since starting college. My freshman year, I took a social impact class, and community service was a major part of the grade.