I wanted to be original and not start this story in a cliché way. But I'm the typical 19-year-old guy studying at Elite University—okay, I admit that's not typical at all. I'm on a scholarship and I'm good-looking, I think.

I'm five foot eleven, I have fair skin, red hair, and light brown eyes with an amber tone. I maintain a beard because without it I don't feel like myself. I study engineering, I'm in my third semester, and my name is Guilherme.

Despite being only 19, I'm my parents' pride, but there's something they don't know about me yet. Because they don't expect this from me.

I'm gay.

And this is where my problems begin.

I was running late for calculus class when I bumped into someone. Before I knew it, I was on the ground while papers flew through the air, and I saw a man lying a few inches away from me.

"Can't you watch where you're going, kid?" he snapped, getting up from the ground.

And while some papers were carried away by the wind, he focused on my face and fell silent. He seemed surprised, and I was certainly red with embarrassment. I've always been clumsy. If you think Bella Swan is a disaster, that's because you haven't met me yet. In one month in this city, I went under a truck because my bike had no brakes. I was hit, but only suffered a few scratches. I rolled down six flights of stairs and spent three months with a rigid neck brace, a splint on my left leg, and a cast on my right arm. I'm practically death's entertainment, if you know what I mean. So bumping into someone was the least of my accidents.

"I'm sorry," I managed to say while gathering what papers I could.

"It's okay, I was distracted," he said more calmly while picking up some sheets.

I looked at him and...

"You're not a vampire, are you? Like Edward and stuff?"

"What?" he started laughing.

Now I was as red as a tomato, and without lingering, I handed him the jumble of papers, got up as quickly as I could, and ran away from there. Until I fell to the ground again.

"Ow!" shouted a familiar voice.

"Sorry," I looked at the girl on the ground with books scattered around. "Sara. Today is not my day."

"When is it ever?" she retorted, getting up from the ground while picking up her books.

"That's the second time today," I replied.

"And who was the first victim?"

The bell rang and we entered the classroom, took our seats, and the professor walked in. He looked at the class and stared at me.

"I'm screwed," I said, lowering my head.

"Why?" she asked.

"He was the first victim."

"Good morning everyone. I'm Marxos, your new calculus professor."