"Hi Queen, are you going home now?" Lisa's voice called out, warm and familiar. She had been my best friend since elementary school.
"Yeah," I replied with a small sigh. "I still have to help Mama when I get home… laundry's piling up again."
Lisa's eyes softened with empathy as she walked beside me.
"Don't worry," she said, gently nudging my arm. "You're almost there. Just a few more days and we'll be free. We're graduating, Queen."
I smiled weakly, but deep inside, her words stirred something heavier.
I wanted to believe her believe that there was something better waiting after this chapter.
"Good for you," I murmured, trying to hide the twinge of uncertainty in my voice. "You'll definitely get to college. You'll chase your dreams and actually reach them."
Lisa stopped walking and looked at me with that stubborn light in her eyes. "And you won't?"
I shrugged, biting the inside of my cheek. "I don't know. Mama needs me. Life doesn't always go the way we want."
She pulled me into a hug, and for a brief moment, I let myself feel it the hope, the sadness, the quiet fear of being left behind.
Lisa suddenly pointed toward the school gate. "Isn't that Mike?"
I looked up and there he was. Leaning casually against his motorcycle, arms crossed.
His black shirt hugged his build, sleeves slightly rolled to show the veins on his forearms.
His hair was pushed back, a little messy like he'd just run his fingers through it.
"That guy is seriously handsome," Lisa said with a grin. "Are you too together already?"
I just smiled, not answering.
Lisa nudged me. "If I were you, I wouldn't let a guy like that go. He looks like the type that disappears and leaves a girl crying for years."
We were stepping out of the gate when she waved. "Hi, Mike!"
He glanced up, then smiled. It was that same subtle smile calm, unreadable, like he already knew something we didn't.
"He looks mixed. Maybe part Spanish? Power Ranger vibes," Lisa joked under her breath.
I rolled my eyes and kept walking, but inside, I could already feel my heart speeding up.
"Hey, Queen! What's up with you? You've been quiet for a while now," Mike said, flashing that lopsided grin of his. "Come on, hop on this beautiful motorcycle of mine. I'll give you a ride."
The engine growled to life as he started it, revving confidently.
I climbed on behind him, a little hesitant, and placed my hands on his shoulders.
"Not there, it's not safe," he said over his shoulder. Then he reached back, took my wrists gently, and wrapped my arms around his waist. "There. Hold me tight."
I could feel the warmth of his body through his shirt. My heart beat faster.
My mom and I live in a squatters' area, where homes are patched together with plywood and old tin sheets.
But Mike never looked down on me. When I was with him, I never felt ashamed. He made me feel seen, valued like none of it mattered.
When we arrived at my place, Mike parked his motorcycle just outside the small, uneven path leading to our house. He helped me off carefully, his hand lingering a second longer on mine.
We walked side by side through the narrow alley, the ground still damp from the afternoon rain. The sound of kids playing in the distance echoed faintly, but everything around us felt muted.
"Come in," I said, unlocking the door. "Mum's not home yet."
He stepped inside, looking around the dimly lit room. It was already 6:34 PM, and the air was heavy with the smell of iron from our old roofing and the faint scent of detergent from my mom's laundry work.
"Aren't you even going to let me sit?" he teased with a grin, already half-lowered onto the wooden bench.
"Sit down," I muttered, a little shy.
Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. His shirt clung slightly to his chest. I noticed the way his collarbone moved each time he breathed.
"Why do you even like it here so much?" I asked, genuinely curious.
He didn't answer right away. He just looked at me with that unreadable expression of his.
Then he reached out gently, took my hand, and pulled me down beside him. His touch was warm and familiar.
For a moment, the world still felt.
"Queen, wh–why are we so quiet?" he asked, his voice low, as if afraid to break the tension hanging between us. "Are we… thinking the same thing?"
I swallowed, my heart pounding in my chest. "Me, yes... What? Who?" I stammered, suddenly shy, my face burning red.
"What?" he asked, leaning a bit closer. "Who?"
"Who?" I echoed, nervously playing with my fingers.
"You…"
"Me?" I blinked at him, caught off guard.
"What? Who? You… Who? Who? You… Me? Am I what you're thinking about?" His tone was half teasing, half serious.
I looked down, unsure of how to answer. Then I whispered, "Mike… I'm thinking maybe we're really not meant to be..."
And just like that, he leaned in and kissed me.
Soft, sure, and completely unexpected.
For a second, my body froze my lips unsure, my thoughts scattered. But his kiss was warm, steady, and not demanding. It sent a rush of heat through me.
He pulled away just slightly, our faces still close. "One more, and I'll really claim you," he whispered, his breath brushing against my cheek.
I couldn't speak. I didn't know what to say. My voice got lost somewhere between my chest and my lips.
We stared into each other's eyes.
Mike was really something. Tall, fair-skinned, with strong shoulders and the kind of presence that made everyone notice him.
His eyes had that quiet depth, like he was always thinking something he didn't say. And his lips God, those lips full and shaped like they were meant to kiss.
I couldn't meet his gaze for too long. It made my stomach flutter.
I lowered my gaze, overwhelmed, but he gently lifted my chin with his right hand, his left resting softly on my cheek.
"Please… look at me," he whispered.
Slowly, I met his eyes. His gaze searched mine, moving from eye to eye… then down to my lips.
"Queen," he said quietly then leaned in and kissed me. A tender kiss, followed by three words that stopped time.
"I love you."
I couldn't speak. My heart thudded in my chest. Then he kissed me again this time harder, longer, pouring something into it that made my knees feel weak.
But still… I didn't kiss him back.
He pulled away and gave me a faint, knowing smile. I saw the question in his eyes. The silent wondering.
I stood up, turned my back to him, trying to catch my breath and calm the storm inside me.
Then I heard his voice, soft and raw, almost trembling,
"I'm sorry… but I'm really in love with you."
I felt his steps slowly closing the distance between us, the space between our bodies disappearing like a breath held too long. Gently, his fingers brushed through my hair, then settled softly on my shoulders.
He leaned closer, his voice a whisper against my skin.
"I love you," he murmured again his lips grazing the side of my neck, then the sensitive spot just behind my right ear.
His arms wrapped around me from behind, holding me like I belonged there.
A warmth spread through my chest, unfamiliar yet irresistible. My knees wavered. I closed my eyes and slowly lifted my right hand, reaching for his face, gently tracing the line of his jaw.
"I love you too, M...Mike," I breathed, my voice barely audible, trembling with truth.
My heart raced as I felt his lips trace a path down my neck, lingering, tender, wanting. Then, he moved lower, his mouth brushing mine again this time deeper, hungrier.
His fingers fumbled lightly at the buttons of my uniform top…
And just as he began to slip one free......
"To be continued."