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*Ariana's POV*
I got home around 10 a.m., a little tired but with a silly smile on my face. Talking with Kyro had been… unexpectedly fun. He was witty, relaxed, and actually listened — which, trust me, is rare with guys.
He told me he also attended *Crestwood High*, and even gave me a quick run-down of what to expect — the cliques, the chaos, the good teachers, and the "don't-you-dare-be-late" principal.
But when he offered to walk me to my door, I politely declined. I mean, come on, he could be cool and all, but I wasn't about to let some gym-floor flirt know exactly where I live. Gotta stay smart.
I turned the corner and strolled the short walk home, humming softly to myself. The moment I stepped in, I heard laughter from the living room.
"Look who's back," my mom smiled at me as she sat beside *Mrs. Hunter* — Great.
"There's my baby gym rat!" Mom teased.
I rolled my eyes playfully. "Mom…"
Mrs. Hunter beamed at me. "You look glowing, Ariana. Must've had a good morning.
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After joking around with Mrs. Hunter and Mom — mostly them trying to dig into my gym life like FBI agents — I excused myself and headed upstairs.
My muscles were a little sore, but in a good way. I took a long, warm shower, wrapped my hair in a towel, and stood in front of the mirror, debating what to wear next. Eventually, I settled for something comfy but cute: a cropped hoodie and shorts — baddie casual, obviously.
Once I was done, I flopped on my bed and decided to scroll through Instagram. It had been a minute since I last checked it. Notifications flooded my screen — mostly friend requests and DMs from people I didn't know… and didn't plan to know either. I skimmed through them, smirked at some cheesy bios, and exited the app without accepting a single one.
After that, I let my body sink deeper into the bed, pulled the covers over me, and closed my eyes for a quick nap.
At least… that was the plan.
What felt like a second later, I was jolted awake by the feeling of someone tapping my shoulder.My eyes flew open to see Mom standing over me, mumbling something about… potatoes?
"…and you better not embarrass me again like last time—"
"Huh?" I mumbled, still dazed.
She sighed. "Dinner. With Mrs. Hunter. Remember?"
Oh. Right.
Family dinner. Next door. With Mrs hunter
I groaned internally and sat up, rubbing sleep from my eyes. "Can I just skip to dessert and call it a day?"
She rolled her eyes. "Come downstairs in ten."
She left, and I let out a dramatic sigh.
Dinner with Mrs hunter and wait and her son? What could possibly go wrong?
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In thirty minutes, I was ready to kill.
I had on a black satin mini dress with spaghetti straps, hugging my curves like it was made for me. The deep neckline showed just enough to tease but not too much to raise my mom's eyebrows. I paired it with gold hoop earrings, a delicate chain around my neck, and sleek black heels that clicked with attitude. My makeup was soft-glam: glossy lips, sharp brows, and that winged eyeliner that could cut someone's ego.
Hair? Slicked back in a high ponytail with edges laid to perfection. A certified baddie, respectfully.
I strutted downstairs like it was a runway, and my mom gave me the once-over with a little smirk.
"You look beautiful, baby," she said, adjusting my earring like she didn't just say I was already perfect.
"Thanks, mama." I winked.
Five minutes later, we were standing in front of *Mrs. Hunter's* apartment door. My mom knocked twice. The door swung open, and a young woman — probably in her early twenties — greeted us with a warm smile. She was tall, dark-skinned, with gorgeous curls piled on her head. She looked like someone who did yoga and drank cucumber water.
"Hi! You must be the new neighbors," she said. "Please, come in."
We stepped inside, and girl — this place? This house was the definition of *"don't judge a book by its cover."* From the outside, it looked like every other regular apartment. But inside? It was Pinterest-worthy.
Glass vases, soft glowing lights, a huge abstract painting that screamed money, and the scent of vanilla and sandalwood in the air. Everything matched — white, gold, and soft rose accents. Exactly my kind of aesthetic.
She gestured for us to sit down, and just as I was admiring the fluffy throw pillows, *Mrs. Hunter* descended the stairs gracefully like she was in a movie. Dressed in a silky wine-colored robe, she looked effortlessly elegant.
"Ladies!" she exclaimed, walking over with her arms out.
She gave Mom a warm hug, then turned to me with a gentle smile. "Welcome to my small apartment," she said modestly.
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*"Small apartment,"* I scoffed in my mind again, taking one last look at the gold-accented mirror hanging above the fireplace. *If this is small, then my last house was a shoebox.*
In no time, we were gently ushered to the dining area — and honey, when I tell you this dining room looked like it was lifted from a five-star restaurant... I'm not even joking. A long polished table, crystal glasses, candles burning in sleek holders, and *so. much. food.* Jollof rice, roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, salad, something that looked like grilled lamb — it was a buffet for royalty.
I found my seat and gracefully sat down, trying not to let my jaw drop.
The young lady — the one who opened the door earlier — started dishing out food for everyone with this calm, graceful energy. I was about to take my first bite when my mind wandered again.
*Wait... where is Mr. Hunter's son?* I scanned the table, pretending to sip water, but that boy was nowhere in sight.
Right on cue, my mom asked, "Mrs. Hunter, your son — Blaze, right? He's not joining us?"Mrs. Hunter smiled sweetly. "He's in his room, probably with his headphones on again." She rolled her eyes like it was a daily thing.
Then she turned to the young woman and said, "Leah, can you please call Blaze down for dinner?"
Leah — so that's her name — nodded with a smile and left the dining room.
I pushed my fork into my rice slowly, my heart doing this weird *thump-thump*. I had no idea what this Blaze guy looked like, but from the way everyone talked about him? He had to be something.
*Please don't let him be arrogant,* I silently prayed. *Or worse — cute and arrogant. Ugh.*
I took a small bite and sipped my juice calmly, but in my head, the drama had already begun.
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After about a minute, I heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs — slow, unbothered, and confident. I lifted my head, casually curious…
And there he was.
Blaze Hunter.
Tall, effortlessly fine, with golden blonde curls that looked like they were crafted by the gods. His jawline could cut glass, and his hazel eyes held that cocky spark like he knew exactly how good he looked. He wore a tight black tee that clung to his toned chest and arms, paired with grey joggers and white sneakers. A silver chain hung around his neck, glinting under the light.
He looked like trouble in the most delicious way.
I must've zoned out because I found myself just… staring. Like, *hard*. I didn't even realize he'd walked all the way to the dining room.
Then, he looked straight at me and said, loud and dry:
*"Close your mouth, brr. Flies are coming in, moron."*
The whole room went quiet.
My jaw clenched. *Did this guy just—?*
My face flushed, partly from embarrassment, but mostly from pure rage. So he thought I was checking him out? Okay, maybe I was… but that's not the point!
I glared at him, already plotting my comeback. Cute face. Rude mouth. Bad combo.
Blaze smirked like he'd just won a game I didn't know we were playing.
*Game on, pretty boy.*
You messed with the wrong girl.
*To be continued…*
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