Felicity's POV.
At The Queen's College, I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock ringing. It was Monday morning — my first official day at Oxford — and I was extremely late. I was finally ready for college, prepared to face a new life and explore the country of England.
"I'm a fresher — of course I would oversleep," I groaned.
I jumped out of bed like a ninja whose life depended on it, rushed to freshen up, then slipped into the cutest thing I packed: a bright yellow gown that screamed sunshine and confidence. I styled my blonde hair to one side and crowned it with a sunflower headband. Yes — if England wouldn't give me sun, I'd be the sun.
I wolfed down a bowl of cereal with milk, grabbed my bag, and decided to call Mom before heading out. I wanted to thank her for her love, care, and support throughout my life as a single parent — none of this would be possible without her.
"Hi Mom, good morning. How are you doing?" I asked.
"Oh, Ninu," she sighed dramatically. "My night was terrible. You weren't here to bother me because you were away. I miss you."
"Oh Mom, I miss you too, but I have to do this — for me and my future. I have to go now, I'm extremely late. Bye for now," I replied.
She sniffed. "Okay, baby. Take care of yourself. Pay attention in lectures. And eat."
"Yes, Mom."
"I love you."
"I love you more," I whispered, heart aching.
I hung up. The real world resumed. I dropped the empty cereal bowl, grabbed my bag, locked the door, tossed my keys inside — and instantly panicked. I was running late, I didn't have a bicycle, and my shoes were far too cute for running. So, I decided to call a cab.
As I waited, I noticed a guy standing about six meters across the street. Tall. Handsomely cute. Perfect jawline. Casually dressed yet strangely elegant, with short, straight black hair. And his eyes? Fixated on me. I quickly looked away and pretended he didn't exist.
The cab arrived — finally. We both rushed toward it at the same time and slipped inside.
"Hi, this is my cab, and I'm extremely late," I insisted.
"I got here first, so you need to get out," he replied.
"I was here first. Get out," he repeated — his voice angelic and wrapped in the most annoyingly hot British accent on Earth, just like my dad's. But unlike my dad, his charm clearly stopped at his face.
His face? Stunning.
His attitude? Trash.
"I don't want to argue. Just let me go, I'm late for school," I said through gritted teeth.
"Well, I'm in the same pickle as you, love, so you'll have to get down," he snapped back.
"Fine. I don't like you anyway," I shot back.
"Fine. Me either. Have a nice day — and I hope I never see you again," he smirked.
I climbed out, and my cab drove off. With him in it.
"Ugh. He's such a snob," I muttered to myself.
I called another cab — successful this time and asked to be taken straight to the lecture hall. When we arrived, I paid the driver and stepped out, taking in the view. It was beautiful — fresh flower gardens, ancient stone buildings, stunning architecture, and students rushing everywhere. I couldn't help but wonder how my first day would turn out. I was both excited and nervous. This was Oxford. My Oxford.
'I'm a fresher, and I've got this,' I told myself.
I hurried inside with my books in hand — too distracted by the breathtaking view — and bumped into someone. CRASH! My books scattered across the floor. I looked up… and there he was. Mr. Taxi Snob. Cab thief. Annoyingly hot stranger. We both snapped at the same time,
"You again?"
Of all the people in the world, why him?
>>>>>>>>>>
Christopher's POV.
My shift at the café ended that morning, and I was extremely late for lectures. Royalty by birth, barista by bad life choices. I dashed out, desperate for a taxi. Faster. Easier. Less… disastrous. That's when I saw her.
A young lady was standing across from me — and wow. Her symmetrical face was captivating. She looked absolutely gorgeous. A girl dressed like summer. Her long, curly blonde hair was styled to one side, adorned with a sunflower crown. A smile waiting to happen. Her pink lips were fiery, and—
'What am I thinking? I don't even know her. Oh my goodness.'
She glanced at me, then quickly looked away. A taxi arrived, and I got in. She followed. That's when the quarrel broke out — the petty, ridiculous, "I-was-here-first" kind of fight. We were both late and both stubborn. She had an American accent, bold and sharp. I liked that. She didn't like how rude I was. She lost the taxi battle. She got out, and we drove off.
I glanced back — she was staring at me, frowning like she wanted to set me on fire with her eyes. I quickly looked away, but she stayed stuck in my head the entire ride. The kind of girl who makes a heart race…
and a headache start.
We arrived at the lecture hall. I paid the driver and headed straight to my best friend, Jake — second-semester genius and full-time clown. Jake spotted me first, already grinning like he knew trouble had followed me.
"Hello, chap," I greeted.
"Hi, fella. How are you today?" Jake asked, voice suspiciously cheerful.
"I'm alright," I replied — though the frown on my face betrayed me.
"You look bothered," he said, eyebrows lifting.
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not," he pushed. "Spill. What's the matter? Talk to me."
"It's that girl — I don't know her name, and I don't want to. She's cute and all, but she's irritating and stubborn. She's not my type. At all," I muttered.
Jake froze. Then burst out laughing.
"Woah! Slow down, Romeo. Who's this mystery girl messing with your brain? Congratulations. You're in love."
"Oh please, don't start. I'm not in love. I only met her this morning," I snapped.
"Okay… and you are in love," he declared, still cackling.
"You're impossible. I'm heading to class. Catch you later," I said, turning away.
"Yeah, I love you too, Romeo," he called after me, laughing his head off like he'd just discovered a new species of stupidity — me.
I shook my head and marched into the hallway. Then fate decided to body slam me. Someone bumped into me — hard. Books fell. A pen rolled dramatically like in slow motion. I looked up…
And there she was. Miss Sunshine Crown: Round Two. Her hand brushed mine. A spark — literal electricity — shot up my arm. My pulse tried to escape my body. I pretended it was heartburn.
We both snapped in perfect synchronization:
"You again?"
She looked irritated. I looked…obsessed. But I could never admit that.