I arrived early at the Business Plan class and chose a nice spot in the middle of the back row. Today wasn't going to be a typical lecture and the idea was to use the full two hours as a working session. I spread the magazines and books I'd collected on our topic and put my iPad before me. After the fiasco of the sketch pad, I decided it was time for me to go fully digital and never sit in the balcony again. So until the class started I spent my time tweaking my designs for the fashion showcase. I'd lost all my original ideas, but spite was really fueling my creativity these days.

I could officially say that Adele Holt had enough of letting life bring her down. And from all the recent setbacks, this one was the easiest one to tackle. My designs were lost, but their essence lived within me and all I had to do to recover them was get to work.

The setback to my love life was a bit more complicated than that, but at the end of the day I realized that however I let it affect me was in my control. See, life was all about perspective. The moment I decided that my crush on Miguel Bernal was on the same plane of impossibility as my thirsting for Chris Evans, was the moment I was finally able to move on from my hurt feelings.

Thanks to that realization I wasn't even nervous about seeing him anymore. When he and his roommates walked into the classroom I was able to confidently wave him over and ignore the little twist in my gut. Fake it till you make it, type of thing. If I pretended to be unaffected by his presence, one day I would be for real.

"Hey," he said as he settled on the chair next to me, looking around at all the things on the table. It wasn't that what he addressed next, though. "How you holding up?"

I figured he wasn't referring to seeing the hope of my unrequited feelings possibly being reciprocated poof in front of my face.

Pointing to my iPad I said, "I'm okay. Trying to put everything I remember into digital format."

Miguel's green eyes stayed fixed on me for a long moment.

"I feel guilty, is there anything I can do to help?"

"Very kind to offer," I said with a smile. "But no, not really. You can help me start reading all of these, though."

He picked up a lingerie magazine with a twinkle in his eye. It made me laugh.

"Including that one, yes."

The teacher came in and gave us the instructions. After today's special lesson we were required to deliver the first draft of our initial proposal, so it wasn't like we could just fool around. As the different groups started to discuss, I explained to Miguel that I'd been doing a lot of research about sustainable fashion and had found that the idea was fairly recent, and yet retail was one of the top polluting industries.

"Although it's leaps and bounds behind oil," he said with a grimace.

Maybe this was touchy but I still asked, "Isn't your dad this big oil guy?"

"Not anymore." Miguel picked up a different magazine, though I noticed he kept the lingerie one close by. "Bernal Industries is getting in on the wind boom."

"We could've done our project about that," I mused. "I bet you know a lot about it. Don't you work for your dad?"

"Yeah." He leaned back in his chair and got lost in his thoughts for so long that I just went back to working. It was like I feared and I'd really gone and put my finger on some sort of wound. I hoped it wasn't a deep one.

Then he said, "Dad's doing great things and the business is going well. I'm the natural successor."

"I sense a but," I said.

"But," he said, giving the ghost of a smile. "The family business isn't really for me."

"What do you mean?"

Miguel scooted his chair closer, as if he didn't want anybody to hear. But the rest of the class was immersed in their own discussions and no one paid us any attention. Which I guessed was a rare thing for him.

"You know Charlie, right?"

A little laugh escaped me. "How could I not?"

"You know a bit about our family history, right?" There was a lot of sadness behind his eyes as he said that.

There had been rumors around school that something terrible had happened to the Bernal family in their home country, and it was the reason why they had migrated to the USA. Although I'd never heard the full story from any of the siblings, I did catch wind that whatever it was had affected Charlie the most and after getting to know the two of them I just had never had the heart to ask.

That was probably why I'd been so awkward around Charlie. The trauma was almost palpable in her, like a shield that separated her from the rest of the world. But Miguel had been different. He'd pushed through whatever had happened and emerged as an open, friendly guy who laughed at everything. Probably not because he had survived, but in spite of it.

Where his sister repelled people, he attracted them like moths to flame. And although I was a moth, I'd always been afraid of burning if I got too close to him.

"Just bits and pieces," I replied to his question.

"She's the rebel of the family with good reason, the little porcupine," he said, looking down with such an unfocused gaze that he didn't even realize it fell straight on the boobs of a lingerie model. "I made it my life mission after that to see my family happy, and I know nothing would please dad more than me taking over the company in due time. But I just wish I could be a bit more like Charlie and..."

He trailed off but I got the gist of it. I wanted to hug him and tell him that it was going to be alright, but I didn't want to get that close. All I could do was use words.

I sighed. "You want to do your own thing."

Green eyes flashed back up and zeroed in on my face with startling clarity.

I bit my lip and for a heart-stopping second it caught his attention. But then I turned back to my iPad and asked, "What about your happiness?"

"Huh?"

As I swiped my browser open I said, "Is your happiness part of this life mission you mentioned?"

My cheeks heated as I wondered if I'd asked something stupid. But after a moment he replied, "It's more a byproduct of my mission, I think."

"Well, I take back what I said before. Maybe we should have made our Business Plan project around how you can achieve your mission without being miserable in the process."

That made him laugh. "That wouldn't be fair to you. If anything it should be a project about how both team members can be happy despite their families' drama."

I groaned, "One semester project wouldn't be enough, you know that."

"This is supposed to be a serious study time, you two. Leave the flirting out the door," the asshole teacher called out to us from two rows down and as people laughed at us I prayed that a hole would open up and swallow me whole.

"It's okay, sir," Miguel replied, his deep voice all smooth and friendly. "I assure you we're brainstorming, not flirting."

One of those girls who couldn't stop salivating over my project partner whispered, loud enough for the whole class to hear, "Duh, it'd be impossible for him to be flirting with her."

"Enough," the teacher called out, rolling his eyes. "Back to working."

"What a bunch of morons," Miguel mumbled as the teacher's focus left us.

I plastered a smile to my face. Nope, I refused to be hurt.

"Anyway, let's get back to the project," I said, catching something weird flash in Miguel's face. But I'd had enough for the day, I needed to focus on something harmless and homework was it. We browsed through the internet and the material I'd brought, finding out about the latest technologies and manufacturing processes for recycling clothes, making lists of the pros and cons for each. Miguel taught me about the SWOT chart, and we started mapping the strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and threats of the business model we were proposing.

At the end of the class we had a decent proposal and as my finger hit the sent button on the email to the teacher, it was powered on the fuel of spite. Miguel raised the palm of his hand up and I gave him a high five.

As we packed up our things and followed everybody out of the classroom, I couldn't shake off the tingles that that little contact had created in my skin.

"I'm going to do a bit more of research," I told him once we were out in the hallway. "If recycling fabrics is already possible, there has to be a reason why more companies aren't doing it."

He shrugged. "It's expensive, and unfortunately companies are all about the profit."

"I know, but..." As I trailed off a wild idea occurred to me. "Should this business case actually be about lobbying for tax incentives to promote clothes recycling?"

His eyes widened and he was about to say something when a new voice joined us from behind me.

"So you're alive after all."

I couldn't describe the cold feeling that washed over me as I turned around and found my mother, standing there in a black Chanel two piece like she'd just come from a funeral.

"You don't answer text messages or calls, but you have no problem talking with boys, I see."

If I kept grinding my teeth so hard I was going to run out of enamel at the tender age of 21.

"Mother, what are you doing here?"

She took off her Versace sunglasses to glare at me without barriers. "That is no way to speak to your worried mother."

"Ha! The nerve," I said. "You only wanted to see if I'd get on your side of the divorce, not to see how I really was."

"Well, darling, we have a common enemy," she said as though that were the important part. "I merely wanted to get your support to bring him down. I thought it would also bring you satisfaction."

A pawn in their game, that was all I was to her.

It made me want to cry, and maybe I looked on the verge of it because a hand suddenly squeezed my shoulder. I turned and saw that Miguel hadn't ran away like most people would.

My mother zeroed in on the gesture. "Excuse me, this is a family matter."

"No," he startled her by saying. "I'm not leaving my friend alone."

I could've kissed him.

My mother's nostrils flared like they did when she was getting ready to spew out flames. "Young man-"

"Mother, leave," I said. "I have nothing to talk with you about."

By that point she didn't even care that we were in public anymore and she screamed, "So you're going to leave me like your father?"

I cast an incredulous look around me that fell on Miguel. "Is she implying I'm the villain here?"

The way he clenched his jaw was answer enough.

I stepped out of his hold and got closer to my mother. I was taller than her and for the first time it felt real good to look down on someone.

"I am nothing like father or you. I don't desert the people I care about or use them when it's convenient to me. I am capable of feeling love and guess what? None of it is for you. Am I making myself clear?"

Grace Winterbourne paled at the same time as her lithe body was taken over by tremors. Like the anger at finding herself uncovered was so great that it could barely be contained. "How dare you speak to me like this? You, you-"

And then something I never thought I'd see unfolded. She raised her hand to strike me. I was so stunned that she would have succeeded, were it not because Miguel caught her wrist easily. He also towered over her and she shrunk under the force of his eyes.

"This better be the first and last time you try to hit your daughter, o sino que el cielo te ampare."

It took a bit of struggle for my mother to free herself from his hold, but when she succeeded she just pulled off her specialty. Which was to turn away and run. Except her Louboutin stilettos were a challenge. I wished one of them would snap and send her careening into the mud but she succeeded in reaching her chauffeur and driving away.

Miguel huffed and said something in Spanish that sounded a lot like cursing.

With a trembling chin I said, "You shouldn't have done that. It was my fight."

"I'm sorry," Miguel said. "I just couldn't let her hurt you anymore than she already has."

I got it, it was the nice thing to do and Miguel was a good person. I'd been thankful for his presence while my mother ambushed me. Even though I knew I didn't need her in my life, she had a talent for always making me feel small and helpless and wonder if she would love me if I got in her good graces. I might have faltered. I might have told her that yes, father was as bad to me as he was to her, that I would help her hurt him. Because God knew I wanted to hurt him.

But Miguel had stayed. He radiated warmth, confidence and all the good things I didn't have to spare. He made me feel strong, like I could take on my bully of a mother once and for all. Without him I probably wouldn't even had had the courage to say the words that made her want to slap me.

It was a dangerous kind of drug I could get used to. But Miguel wasn't going to stay beside me for every difficult moment of my life or help me fight my battles. He'd graduate and move on and find someone whose battles he considered his. The same was for Ayrton or Poonam. The same was already the case for Page and Vera.

So as I wiped the first tear from my face, I vowed that I would no longer depend on anyone else. I'd been born and raised alone, and alone I had to face my demons. Including my parents.

"It's okay, thanks." I looked him dead in the eyes and said, "I'll just never let anyone hurt me again."

After I got home I blocked my parents' numbers from my phone and deleted them. I was going to live a life of joy and success, by myself. I didn't need anyone's love but my own.

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