The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism novel Chapter 298

Chapter 298: 298 | Not a Secret Fantasy with Camille Ortega

I left Professor Crane’s classroom with the distinct sensation of having survived something I hadn’t fully understood. The paper with her contact information sat folded in my pocket, carrying implications I wasn’t ready to examine too closely. The woman taught brand management, wore a mask to class, and had just singled me out in front of thirty students to discuss the strategic value of kissing someone during combat training.

Normal Tuesday.

The hallway outside the lecture hall was crowded with students moving between classes, the usual chaos of foot traffic and overlapping conversations. I spotted Caden and Marco heading toward the cafeteria, Caden gesturing wildly about something while Marco nodded with the patience of someone who had learned to filter his best friend’s enthusiasm into digestible portions. Felicity had disappeared somewhere, probably to interrogate someone else about my personal life while I wasn’t around to deflect.

My phone buzzed. Sloane’s name lit up the screen.

Cafeteria. Now. I’m starving and you promised.

I smiled despite myself. The bond between us pulsed with her impatience, a warm thread of hunger and anticipation that had nothing to do with food and everything to do with proximity. Sixteen hours apart and my body already treated reunion like a physiological necessity rather than a social preference.

The walk to the cafeteria took five minutes. I spent three of them thinking about Professor Crane’s mask and two of them thinking about Sloane’s smile. The ratio felt appropriate.

The cafeteria at midday operated at maximum capacity, every table occupied by students in various states of post-morning exhaustion. The noise level sat somewhere between busy restaurant and small riot, with conversations overlapping and trays clattering and someone in the back laughing at a volume that suggested they wanted the entire room to know they were having a good time.

I found Sloane at a table near the windows, golden sunlight catching her pink hair and turning it into something almost annoyingly beautiful. She’d changed out of her gym uniform into civilian clothes, a fitted white top and high-waisted jeans that reminded me why I’d spent the entire morning distracted. Her blue eyes found mine across the crowded room, and the bond between us surged with warmth so intense it almost hurt.

"You’re late," she said as I dropped into the seat across from her.

"Three minutes. Professor Crane wanted to talk about my career prospects."

"Professor Crane." Sloane’s eyebrows rose. "The one with the mask and the legs?"

"That’s the one."

"And how were your career prospects?"

"Apparently I’m a brand management case study now. On account of the kissing incident."

Sloane’s expression shifted into something that wasn’t quite jealousy but wasn’t quite not jealousy either. The bond carried the emotion to me before her face fully committed to it, a complicated mixture of possessiveness and amusement and something darker underneath that she wasn’t ready to name.

"She brought that up? In class?"

"In front of everyone. Used it as a teaching moment about the brand implications of tactical decisions made under surveillance." I leaned back in my chair, enjoying the way Sloane’s jaw tightened slightly. "Apparently kissing Camille was actually a genius move for my public image. Who knew."

"I’m going to kill her."

"Professor Crane or Camille?"

"I haven’t decided yet."

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