I came from the province and transferred to Asteria University, one of the most prestigious—and most unforgiving—schools in the city.
People liked to call it a dream school.
What they didn't say was that dreams had hierarchies.
At Asteria, money spoke before talent. Names carried more weight than effort. Confidence wasn't built—it was inherited.
And students like me?
We learned very quickly where we stood.
Because my home was too far from the city, I stayed with my aunt near campus. She owned a small coffee shop tucked between a laundry shop and a closed-down bookstore. The sign outside flickered slightly, the paint chipped at the corners—but inside, it was warm. The smell of roasted beans clung to the walls, mixed with sugar syrup and comfort.
Helping her there was part of the deal. Tuition alone already felt like a crime.
That morning, she fussed over me like I was heading into battle.
"Eat properly," she said, pressing a sandwich into my hands. "And don't let anyone talk down to you."
I smiled, forcing confidence into my voice. "I'll be fine."
I wasn't sure if that was true.
After she rushed off to open the shop early, I stood alone in the tiny room above it, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
Plain uniform.
Old phone.
Shoes I'd cleaned twice already.
I straightened my shoulders.
You belong here, I told myself.
Even if everything around you says otherwise.
Asteria University was unreal.
Glass buildings towered above me, reflecting the sky like polished mirrors. Digital boards flashed announcements for clubs I'd never dare join—equestrian society, international debate teams, exclusive fraternities that required sponsorships I didn't have.
Students passed me in groups, laughter spilling easily from their lips. Their uniforms fit perfectly. Their shoes were spotless. Their confidence felt effortless, like they'd never doubted themselves a day in their lives.
I tightened my grip on my bag.
Every step felt like I was trespassing.
I tried not to stare, but everything pulled my attention. Sculpted fountains. Expensive cars parked near faculty buildings. Whispers trailing behind me when I passed.
She looks lost.
Is she new?
She doesn't look like she belongs here.
I told myself not to shrink.
And then—
BAM.
I slammed straight into someone.
The impact knocked the air from my lungs. My bag slipped from my shoulder, notebooks scattering across the pavement. I stumbled back, barely catching myself before I fell.
"Oof—sorry!" I blurted, already kneeling to gather my things.
I expected annoyance. Maybe irritation.
What I didn't expect… was nothing.
No movement. No reaction.
The person I'd collided with stood there like a wall.
Before I could look up, a polished black shoe stepped forward.
CRACK.
The sound sliced straight through me.
My phone.
I picked it up with shaking hands. The screen was shattered, spiderweb cracks spreading across the glass like proof of something irreversible.
"…My phone," I whispered.
The guy didn't even pause.
He just kept walking.
Oh no.
Absolutely not.
"HEY!" I spun around, heart pounding. "You just stepped on my phone!"
He stopped.
Slowly turned.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Sharp jawline. The kind of face you saw on magazine covers and luxury advertisements. Perfectly styled hair. Calm eyes—too calm.
He looked expensive.
The kind of person who never checked price tags.
He glanced at my broken phone. Then at me.
"That was on the ground," he said calmly.
Something inside me snapped.
"Yes," I snapped back, holding it up, "because you were standing there like a human lamp post!"
Gasps rippled around us.
Students slowed. Whispers spread. Phones subtly lifted.
"Is she arguing with him?"
The guy raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained.
"…Are you always this loud?"
"I'm loud because I'm poor and my phone just died," I shot back.
A laugh sounded behind him.
Three guys stepped into view—his friends, judging by their matching confidence and expensive shoes.
One of them grinned. "Oh, this is interesting."
Another leaned closer. "She's new, right?"
The tall guy sighed, rubbing his forehead like he was the one inconvenienced.
"You don't know who I am, do you?"
I stood, dusted off my uniform, and met his stare head-on.
"No," I said. "But I know you owe me a phone."
The silence was suffocating.
Then one of his friends burst out laughing.
"I like her already."
The tall guy stared at me for a long moment… then smirked.
"You're brave," he said. "Or clueless."
"Probably both," I replied. "So—are you paying for the screen, or should I send you the repair bill?"
More students had stopped now.
He crossed his arms. "This is how your first day at Asteria starts?"
I looked down at my shattered phone.
"…Yeah. And somehow, I feel like you're going to make it worse."
His smile widened.
"Oh," he said softly. "Definitely."
He pulled out his wallet and slid out a crisp hundred-dollar bill.
"Here. Consider your phone compensated."
I stared at the money.
A hundred dollars.
To him, it was nothing.
To me, it was rent.
Without a word, I took it, stuffed it into my pocket, picked up my bag—
And walked away.
No thank you.
No glare.
No dramatic exit.
Just walked.
Behind me, stunned silence.
"…Bro," Matthew muttered, "she didn't even look back."
Elijah blinked. "Did she just take the money and leave?"
Romeo whistled. "That was cold."
Ryan Vale watched her disappear into the crowd.
Something twisted in his chest—sharp, unfamiliar.
"She stood up to me," he said quietly.
Matthew raised an eyebrow. "You sound impressed."
Ryan smirked. "No one's ever done that before."
That night, I lay awake in the tiny room above the coffee shop, staring at the cracked ceiling.
My phone sat on the table beside me—broken, silent.
Asteria University had welcomed me with whispers, stares, and a shattered screen.
But worse than that… it had noticed me.
And somehow, I knew.
That collision wasn't an accident.
It was a beginning.
Ryan Vale — POV
Ryan Vale did not obsess.
He analyzed. He evaluated. He categorized people the way his father categorized
investments—quickly, efficiently, and without emotional attachment.
At least, that was the story he told himself.
Yet here he was, sprawled across the leather couch in his penthouse dorm suite, staring at the ceiling like it had personally offended him.
"She took the money," Matthew said for the fifth time, lounging nearby, clearly enjoying this far too much. "Didn't say thanks. Didn't bow. Didn't even glare. Just—poof."
Ryan exhaled slowly.
"I was there," he replied flatly.
Romeo snorted from his seat by the window. "Bro, you've had girls cry because you didn't look at them. And this one?"
Elijah leaned forward, eyes sharp with amusement. "She looked at you like you were an inconvenience."
Ryan closed his eyes.
That was the problem.
He replayed the moment again—her standing there with that cracked phone in her hand, eyes blazing, posture straight despite everything screaming that she shouldn't challenge him.
Most people flinched.
Some smiled nervously.
Others tried too hard.
She hadn't tried at all.
"She was rude," Ryan said.
Matthew raised an eyebrow. "You liked it."
Ryan opened his eyes. "I did not."
"You smiled," Romeo pointed out.
"That was irritation."
Elijah laughed. "You smile when you're irritated now?"
Silence.
Ryan sat up abruptly. "She doesn't know who I am."
Matthew tilted his head. "Or she does—and just doesn't care."
That thought hit harder than expected.
Ryan frowned. "Everyone cares."
"That's your first mistake," Matthew said lightly. "Thinking everyone's playing your game."
Ryan stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. The city lights stretched endlessly below, glowing like something he owned.
And yet.
For the first time, someone had walked away from him without asking for more.
No apology.
No fear.
No expectation.
Just gone.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the remaining bills from his wallet.
The money felt heavier than it should.
"…Find her," Ryan said suddenly.
All three of them turned to look at him.
Matthew grinned. "There it is."
"I just want to know," Ryan added coolly, "what makes someone think they can stand in front of me like that."
Romeo chuckled. "Sure. Pure curiosity."
Elijah smirked. "What's the plan when you find her?"
Ryan's lips curved—not quite a smile.
"We'll see," he said. "She owes me a thank you."
Matthew laughed outright. "Good luck with that."
Ryan turned back to the window, gaze distant.
For the first time in a long while, the city below felt… loud.
And somewhere in that noise was a girl who didn't bow.
Ryan Vale decided he didn't like unfinished business.
Not at all.
___________
By the time I reached my first class, everyone already knew.
I didn't know what they knew—only that the air felt different. Heavier. Like the campus itself had decided I was suddenly worth paying attention to.
Whispers followed me down the corridor, soft at first, then careless.
"That's her."
"No way."
"She argued with him."
I kept my eyes forward and my pace steady, even when my palms started to sweat. The building was cold, marble floors echoing with footsteps and expensive shoes. Posters lined the walls—academic honors, international competitions, faces smiling confidently beneath achievements I couldn't imagine affording.
Lecture Hall C loomed ahead.
Big. Bright. Unforgiving.
I hesitated at the doorway for half a second too long.
Don't flinch.
I walked in.
The hall was already half full. Students sat in clusters like they belonged together by default—same watches, same bags, same laughter. Conversations dipped when I passed, not stopping completely, just lowering enough to make sure I noticed.
I scanned for an empty seat and chose one near the middle. Not bold enough for the front where professors remembered faces. Not hidden enough for the back where rumors gathered fastest.
As I sat, I caught fragments drifting through the air.
"She really took the money?"
"I heard she didn't even thank him."
"Who does she think she is?"
My jaw tightened.
So that's how this worked. One collision, one refusal to bow, and suddenly I was campus gossip.
I pulled out my notebook, even though my hands weren't steady. My phone—still cracked, still unusable—sat uselessly in my bag. The reminder stung.
The professor arrived a few minutes later.
Professor Hale was the kind of woman who didn't need to raise her voice to command attention. Gray streaks ran through her neatly tied hair, and her eyes were sharp enough to cut through noise.
"Good morning," she said, setting her tablet down. "This is Advanced Political Theory. If you're here because you thought it would be easy, you're in the wrong room."
A few students chuckled nervously.
"Before we begin," she continued, "seating will be assigned today. This is a discussion-heavy course, and I don't allow cliques to dictate participation."
The room groaned.
My stomach dropped.
Names flashed onto the screen at the front.
Row numbers. Seat numbers.
I scanned quickly.
Row six. Seat four.
Okay. Manageable.
Then I saw the name beside mine.
Row six. Seat five.
Ryan Vale.
I blinked.
Looked again.
Same result.
You have got to be kidding me.
The reaction around the room was instant.
Chairs scraped loudly. Someone let out a low whistle. Heads turned—not subtly this time.
I stayed seated, heart pounding, as footsteps approached.
He stopped beside me.
I didn't need to look to know it was him.
There was a presence to Ryan Vale that was impossible to ignore—like gravity had opinions. He pulled out the chair next to mine with infuriating calm and sat down.
"Looks like fate," he said lightly.
I kept my eyes forward. "Looks like poor planning."
A sharp intake of breath came from somewhere behind us.
Ryan chuckled, clearly amused, and leaned back like he owned the space.
Up close, he was worse.
Not flashy. Not loud.
Just controlled. Every movement deliberate.
Like he never wasted energy on things that didn't matter.
Professor Hale began lecturing, her voice echoing through the hall, but my focus fractured.
Ryan leaned slightly toward me. "You always this grumpy in the morning?"
I didn't look at him. "You always talk during lectures?"
"Only when the company's interesting."
I finally turned. "Then you should probably stop."
That earned a real smile.
It was unfair, honestly.
Around us, students pretended to take notes while very obviously listening.
Ryan lowered his voice. "You know people are betting on you."
"On what?"
"How long before you apologize."
I laughed softly. "They're going to lose money."
Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe. Or irritation.
"You really don't care," he said.
"I care about passing this class," I replied. "Not about your reputation."
For the first time since he sat down, Ryan went quiet.
Minutes passed. The lecture continued. My breathing slowed.
Then—
"Your phone," he said quietly. "Did you fix it?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because life doesn't run on your budget."
This time, he didn't joke.
He studied me like a puzzle he didn't appreciate existing.
Professor Hale stopped speaking.
"Mr. Vale. Miss—?"
I stiffened.
"State your names," she said coolly.
"Ryan Vale."
I met her gaze. "Olivia Harper"
Her eyes flicked between us. "Since you both seem eager to socialize, you'll be partners for the semester project."
The room exploded.
"What?!"
"You're joking."
"No way."
Ryan turned slowly toward me, clearly just as caught off guard.
"You have got to be kidding," I muttered.
Professor Hale smiled thinly. "Problem?"
Ryan leaned back, recovered instantly. "None at all."
I glared at him. "I have several."
"Work it out," she said, already moving on. "Guidelines will be posted tonight."
The rest of the lecture passed in a blur.
When the class finally ended, the room buzzed like a disturbed hive.
Ryan stood first. "Looks like we're stuck."
I stood too. "Let's make something clear."
"Oh?"
"I don't want favors. I don't want protection. And I definitely don't want whatever game you think this is."
His smile softened—just barely.
"Good," he said. "Neither do I."
I didn't believe him.
As I walked out of the lecture hall, whispers followed again—but this time, they weren't just curious.
They were watching.
Asteria University had decided I wasn't invisible anymore.
And being assigned to Ryan Vale?
That was only the beginning.
_________
You were wiping down the counter, pretending to focus on the condensation forming on the cups, but Ryan's presence made it impossible to concentrate. He was leaning back lazily, one leg casually crossed over the other, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that was impossible to ignore.
"Still trying to act busy?" he teased, voice low, carrying that familiar smirk.
You raised an eyebrow, not even glancing at him. "I am busy. Running a successful milk tea shop isn't as easy as it looks," you said, deliberately adding an exaggerated sigh. "Someone's got to keep the chaos under control."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter, face dangerously close. "Chaos, huh? Sounds… interesting. Are you always this confident?"
You met his gaze evenly, smirk tugging at your lips. "Only when I know I'm right. And right now, I'm right. You're here more than anyone, and I've noticed the way you watch me."
A flicker of surprise crossed his face before he recovered with that trademark smirk. "Maybe I just appreciate good… tea-making skills," he said, deliberately vague.
"Mm-hmm," you murmured, letting your tone drip with playful doubt. "And here I thought it was because you couldn't resist my charm."
He leaned closer, a mere inch away, so close you could feel the warmth radiating from him. "Maybe it is," he admitted, low and teasing.
"But let's keep that between us, shall we?"
Your heart did an unsteady flip, and you
fought the urge to roll your eyes. "Fine," you said, brushing past him, but not before letting your fingers graze his. Sparks traveled up your arm, undeniable and electric.
He noticed, of course, smirk widening. "Careful. Little touches like that might be dangerous," he murmured.
"Oh? Dangerous, huh?" you replied, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Good thing I like dangerous games."
_____
The next morning, sunlight spilled across the campus, painting the paths with golden light.
You were walking with your textbooks pressed against your chest when you spotted Ryan leaning casually against a tree, arms crossed.
He noticed you immediately. Of course he did.
Matthew, Elijah, and Romeo were nearby, laughing quietly among themselves, clearly ready to stir the pot.
"Looks like someone's out for a morning stroll," Matthew said with a sly grin.
"Or someone's here to… entertain us," Elijah added, snickering.
You arched a brow at them but didn't break your stride. Ryan, however, pushed off from the tree and started walking toward you.
"You seem to be everywhere I go," he said, his voice low, teasing, but with an edge of something more.
"I could say the same about you," you shot back, matching his pace. "It's almost… stalkerish."
His eyes darkened slightly, smirk tugging at his lips. "Is that a warning?"
"Depends on how you take it," you replied, glancing at him sideways. "But I'd say… a challenge works better."
He laughed, the sound low and surprisingly genuine. "A challenge, huh? I do love challenges."
As you walked past a group of students, Ryan slowed, matching your pace. "You're very… bold," he said, voice just above a whisper.
You smirked, pretending to be casual. "And you're very… predictable. I know you. Obsessed? Maybe. Entertained? Definitely. Trying to deny it? Hilarious."
Ryan's smirk faltered slightly, eyes narrowing with a mix of annoyance and intrigue. "…You really enjoy teasing me, don't you?"
"Absolutely," you said, voice playful. "And it's not even personal. Well… maybe a little."
His step faltered, just slightly, but he recovered, letting his confident smirk return.
"Careful," he said, leaning closer, tone low and threatening in that teasing way only he could pull off. "Keep pushing, and you might find out I'm just as stubborn as you are."
"Good," you whispered, letting your gaze meet his. "I like stubborn."
For a moment, neither of you moved. The world shrank to the small bubble between you—the laughter of friends in the distance, the rustle of leaves, and the heat of anticipation.
Matthew, Elijah, and Romeo exchanged knowing glances. Matthew nudged Elijah. "Looks like she finally got him flustered," he whispered.
Elijah grinned. "Finally? Bro, he's been quietly obsessed for weeks."
Romeo chuckled softly. "Shh… let's enjoy the show."
Ryan's smirk twitched slightly as he finally broke the silence. "You're lucky I'm… entertained," he said, voice low, smoldering.
"Otherwise, I might have done more than just talk."
You stopped walking, tilting your head to meet him fully. "Oh? More than talk? Now that sounds dangerous," you said, voice teasing.
"Mm-hmm," he murmured, stepping just close enough that your arms almost brushed.
"And I don't like losing."
You laughed softly, the sound light but confident. "Good. Neither do I."
And with that, you continued walking, letting him follow. Both of you knew this was far from over—but the tension between you was delicious, teasing, and absolutely electric.
________
After your morning walk, you decided to head to the library to study. The campus was alive with students rushing between classes, laughing, and chatting, but you preferred the quieter corners. The library had always been your refuge—a place to breathe, focus, and, occasionally, observe people without being noticed.
You pushed the heavy wooden doors open, inhaling the familiar scent of old books and polished wood. The air was cool, calm, almost serene. At least, until you spotted a familiar shadow across the aisle.
Ryan.
He was leaning casually against a shelf, one hand buried in the pocket of his designer jeans, the other lazily flipping through a thick book like he belonged there. Your heart skipped, and you clenched your textbooks a little tighter.
"Ryan," you said, voice low, trying to sound casual. "What are you doing here? Researching… world domination?"
He didn't look up at first, letting the words hang in the air. Then slowly, he tilted his head, smirk forming effortlessly. "Maybe. Or maybe I just like to know what the people I… notice are doing," he said, deliberately vague.
Your eyebrows shot up. "Notice me? Dangerous," you murmured under your breath, letting a small laugh escape.
"Mm-hmm," he said softly, walking toward you, the sound of his sneakers against the polished floor echoing faintly. "Careful. You're starting to sound like you're admitting something."
You adjusted the strap of your bag, trying to look unbothered, though your pulse betrayed you. "Admit what? That I've noticed you too?" you teased lightly, voice dripping with playful challenge.
Ryan stopped just a few steps away, close enough that you could see the faint curl of a smile tugging at his lips. "Careful. Keep teasing me, and I might start taking it personally."
"Oh, is that a threat?" you asked, trying to sound confident but failing slightly as your fingers brushed against a stack of books on the shelf behind you.
He leaned just a little closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Maybe. Or maybe it's just a warning. Either way… you're playing a dangerous game."
You tilted your head, smiling despite yourself. "I like dangerous games."
"Good," he murmured, the smirk lingering as he let his gaze linger a second too long.
"Neither of us likes losing, remember?"
You laughed softly, the sound a little shaky. "I know. And that's exactly why this is so much fun."
For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence thick with unspoken tension. You could feel his eyes tracing your movements, careful but deliberate, as if he was memorizing every detail. And you… were doing the same.
"Fine," he finally said, taking a small step back, though his smirk never faltered. "You're entertaining. I'll give you that."
"Oh, you really enjoy the show...that's a compliment coming from you? " you asked, feigning disbelief, though your cheeks warmed just slightly.
Ryan chuckled softly, low and dangerous. "Maybe. Or maybe I just like seeing that spark in your eyes when you know you're pushing me."
You swallowed, caught off guard by how personal his words felt. "Keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you enjoy this… more than you're letting on."
"Mm-hmm," he said, nodding slowly, as if confirming some secret thought. "You'd be right."
Just then, Matthew, Elijah, and Romeo appeared around the corner, as if summoned by some cosmic timing. Matthew smirked, eyes glinting with mischief. "Well, well, well… looks like someone finally cornered the famous Ryan."
Elijah nudged him, whispering with a grin. "Or maybe it's the other way around."
Romeo shook his head, smirking knowingly. "Either way… this is entertaining."
Ryan's eyes flicked briefly toward his friends, then back to you, his expression unreadable but his smirk unchanged. "Don't worry," he said softly, low enough that only you could hear. "They're just spectators. You're the one I'm interested in."
Your heart thumped a little faster, your pulse betraying your attempt at calm. "Good," you whispered back. "Just make sure you don't lose...and don't cry in the end."
He leaned slightly closer again, brushing the tip of his fingers against yours—deliberately casual, though the electricity between you both was undeniable. "Not a chance," he murmured, his voice a teasing growl.
You sighed, a soft, exasperated laugh escaping. "You really obsessed. Why do you have to be so… infuriating?"
Ryan's smirk widened. "Because it works," he said simply, and then, just as casually, he turned and walked away, leaving your heart racing and your thoughts spinning.
You couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking, plotting, or planning next, and the anticipation made your pulse quicken even more, leaving a delicious tension that made every step feel electric."
Matthew whistled softly. "Bro, smooth exit."
Elijah grinned. "Yeah, but she's still thinking about it. Mission accomplished."
Romeo just shook his head, laughing quietly. "We should probably get popcorn next time. This is better than any drama show."
You gathered your books, shaking your head at the trio while Ryan's words echoed in your mind. Dangerous, teasing, infuriating—but impossible to ignore. And as you left the library, you couldn't help but feel… that this game had only just begun.
End of Chapter 1