The campus was buzzing, the kind of buzz that could almost be measured in electricity.
Banners fluttered in the light breeze, colorful and cheerful, each one competing for attention like miniature flags of victory. The smell of popcorn, cotton candy, and fried snacks mingled with the faint scent of freshly cut grass, making the student quad feel like a combination of a festival and a carnival.
I was stationed at the student council booth, surrounded by neatly stacked flyers, pens that had somehow lost half their ink, and a mountain of sign-up sheets. My fingers were stained slightly from the ink, and my uniform shirt was wrinkled from hours of standing, but I didn't mind. Well, I would have minded if I weren't so busy keeping my sanity while dealing with the endless parade of students.
"Next, please!" I called, handing a clipboard to a shy-looking freshman. She fumbled with the pen, glancing nervously at me. "Here, just sign your name here," I said, smiling gently.
"It's really easy. You don't have to overthink it."
The girl nodded and scribbled her name. She hurried off, and I took a moment to straighten the papers when a familiar voice cut through the chatter.
"Well, well, well… look who's popular today," Ryan said, leaning casually against the edge of the booth, arms crossed, smirk in place.
I froze for half a second before responding.
"Oh, great. The jealous rich boy appears," I said, trying to sound nonchalant, though my heart skipped a beat. "What brings you here? Catwalk practice?"
Ryan pretended to be offended. "Ha! I came to… observe the competition," he said smoothly, tilting his head slightly as if I had personally offended the natural order of the world.
"Observe? You mean stalk," I replied, raising an eyebrow.
"Semantics," he murmured, as if he had won some grand intellectual duel with the flick of his perfectly groomed hair. "Someone has to make sure no one steals my favorite entertainment."
I shook my head, laughing lightly. "You could just talk to me. Not everyone finds dramatic behavior cute."
"Cute? I'm terrifyingly charming," he said, eyes glinting like he was challenging me to argue.
Matthew, Elijah, and Romeo appeared nearby, giving exaggerated thumbs-up gestures as though I wasn't already painfully aware of how ridiculous this was. I smirked. "Even your friends are cheering for your ridiculousness."
"They're just… acknowledging talent," Ryan said smoothly, his smirk deepening.
Before I could respond, a student approached the booth, and Ryan immediately stepped forward, loudly clearing his throat.
"Step aside, civilians! High-level operation in progress!" he declared, waving his arms dramatically like a general in an absurdly over-budget film production.
I blinked, holding back laughter. "High-level? It's just a club sign-up, Ryan," I said.
"I prefer… epic proportions," he whispered, leaning in just enough that I could smell the faint, expensive scent of his cologne.
"More like over-the-top jealous rich boy proportions," I teased, smirking.
"Jealous? Me? Never," he said, voice dripping with mock innocence.
He grabbed a flyer and waved it like a flag. "Attention, citizens! Only the finest entertainment allowed here!"
The surrounding students burst into laughter. I covered my face with my hands, trying to keep my composure. "You're ridiculous," I said, lowering my hands just enough to glare playfully.
Ryan leaned close, voice teasing. "And you… love it."
"Love it? Please. I tolerate it… occasionally," I corrected, trying not to blush.
"Harsh. I was going for admiration," he murmured, the smirk softening slightly into something that might have been close to sincerity.
The day continued like this, a strange mix of chaos and amusement. Ryan "helped" by standing in the middle of our table and rearranging the flyers in ways that made no sense, Matthew, Elijah, and Romeo cheering him on like an audience in a theatrical performance, and I laughing despite myself.
By the end, our booth was a mess, Ryan was still smirking, and I realized life was far more interesting with him around.
By the time the club fair ended and the quad began to empty, I found myself wandering toward the lawn, needing a break from the chaos. I sank onto the grass, letting the fading warmth of the sun seep into my skin. My friends joined me shortly after, chatting about everything and nothing, but my attention kept wandering back to the commotion earlier.
It was then that I heard a voice that made my heart skip again—but in a very different way.
"Hey, you!"
I froze, my head snapping up. There he was: Ethan, my childhood friend, now tall, confident, and impossibly good-looking. He had changed since I last saw him, muscles toned from basketball, a relaxed confidence radiating from him.
"Wow… it's really you!" I said, standing. "I didn't know you were here!"
Before I could gush, Ryan appeared beside me, smirk sharp, eyes flicking to Ethan.
"Seems like I have… competition," he muttered under his breath, voice low enough that only I could hear.
"Competition? Ryan! He's my childhood friend!" I exclaimed, irritation and amusement warring in my chest.
Ryan's gaze narrowed, but his smirk didn't falter. "So this is the legendary 'favorite distraction,'" he said quietly, almost as if tasting the words.
I covered my face, suppressing a laugh. "Ryan… you are ridiculous."
"Ridiculous? Maybe. But you… love it," he whispered, leaning just slightly closer than necessary.
"Maybe I tolerate it," I corrected, rolling my eyes.
Ethan scratched the back of his neck, clearly confused. "Uh… I did not sign up for this," he muttered, glancing between us like he'd accidentally stumbled onto a live soap opera.
Ryan smirked, tilting his head. "I'm serious… about you," he said, and for a moment, I wondered if he really meant it or if this was just another game.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. Ethan and I reminisced about childhood games, shared inside jokes, and laughed until our cheeks ached. Ryan never left my side, though, teasing, whispering jokes, nudging me when Ethan wasn't looking. And somehow, even as I tried to keep my focus on reconnecting with Ethan, Ryan's presence lingered, a constant reminder of how complicated life could get when your personal space was always invaded by someone impossibly charming.
By sunset, the quad was almost empty. I walked toward the fountain at the center of the campus, hoping to get a few quiet minutes.
That's when Ryan caught up to me, stepping lightly so I could feel him before I even saw him.
"You're avoiding me," he said, voice low and amused.
"I'm… enjoying some peace," I said carefully, glancing at him without turning fully.
"Peace is overrated," he murmured, stepping closer. "Especially when I'm around."
I laughed softly. "You have a problem with boundaries, don't you?"
"Boundaries are for ordinary people," he said. His eyes caught mine, sharp and serious for just a moment. "I'm not ordinary. And you… are not ordinary to me."
I didn't know whether to roll my eyes or melt on the spot. Instead, I turned, brushing past him, heart thudding in my chest.
He followed, always just a step behind. "I know you think I'm ridiculous," he said softly. "But I can be serious… if you'll let me."
"I'll think about it," I said, smirking.
Ryan grinned. "Think fast. I don't wait long."
Later, sitting on the edge of the fountain, I realized that my life had suddenly become more… unpredictable. Ryan, the ever-smirking, chaotic presence, had inserted himself into my day in a way that was impossible to ignore. And now, Ethan, my childhood friend, had returned, adding another layer of confusion to my emotions.
I glanced at Ryan, who was leaning casually against the fountain, watching me with that same infuriating smirk. My chest tightened.
Somehow, amidst the chaos and teasing, I felt like this—this moment, this unpredictable tension—was exactly where I was supposed to be.
And deep down, I knew that my life was about to get a lot more complicated.
___
The school sign up club had ended, leaving the campus in a strange kind of silence. The echo of laughter and music still lingered faintly in the hallways, but the buzz of excited students, the colorful booths, and the chaos of prizes and confetti were gone. It felt almost unreal, like a snapshot of joy that had been taken away too quickly. I was alone in the classroom, stacking leftover papers, carefully placing them into neat piles. The fluorescent lights hummed above, harsh and unflinching.
I was so focused on my task that I didn't notice the subtle shift in the air—warmth, scent, a familiarity that made my pulse skip.
Then I heard it: that smooth, low voice that made my stomach flutter every time.
"You're still here."
I froze. Slowly, I turned. There he was—Ryan.
His posture was relaxed, but there was that intensity in his gaze that made it impossible to act casual. His designer jacket hung perfectly, though slightly rumpled from the day's events, and his hair caught the light, golden strands almost luminous in the dim classroom.
"Some of us actually help," I said, shrugging nonchalantly, pretending I wasn't acutely aware of how close he'd gotten without permission.
He chuckled softly, a sound that vibrated somewhere deep in my chest. Then he closed the distance between us, hands lightly resting on my hips. My breath hitched, heart deciding that normal rhythm was no longer necessary.
"There are better ways to… help," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, yet carrying a weight that made me lean just slightly into him.
"Better ways? I can handle mine," I replied, arms crossing instinctively, smirk plastered on my face like armor. But my voice sounded weaker than I wanted, betraying the way my pulse had doubled.
He leaned closer, chest brushing the curve of my back in the gentlest of contacts. "Like this. Helping each other… understand."
I turned to face him fully, arms crossed, smirk still in place but with a flicker of vulnerability in my chest. "Or just… not impressed?" I asked, half-challenging, half-teasing, trying to regain control of the situation.
"Is that what you think?" His eyes met mine, dark and unflinching. "Maybe I like the view from here."
I didn't stop him as he leaned closer. Our noses brushed, tentative contact, heartbeats colliding like percussion in a symphony that only we could hear. My chest tightened. The world outside—the empty classroom, the stacks of papers, the distant hallway—faded into insignificance.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered, voice so close it was almost a physical touch.
"You're bold for someone claiming disinterest," I murmured, unable to hide the tremor in my voice.
"Or just honest?" His lips hovered dangerously close, a breath away.
Before anything could happen, the door creaked open. My head whipped to the sound, and Matthew was standing there, eyes wide, jaw slack.
Ryan smirked, seemingly amused rather than embarrassed. "Timing is everything," he murmured, finally stepping back with that infuriating grin of his.
I shoved my hands in my pockets, trying to regain composure. Matthew gave me a puzzled look but wisely didn't say anything. Ryan's eyes flicked to me, and the spark of mischief in them promised that this wasn't over.
___
The next morning, the campus buzzed with energy, but I felt it immediately—that something-happened energy. Whispers, side glances, and smirks followed me as I walked toward class. I told myself to act normal. I failed spectacularly.
There he was. Ryan, leaning casually against the lockers with his friends, laughing about something insignificant. Then his eyes lifted.
And landed on me.
The laughter stopped—just enough for me to notice.
Our eyes locked. For half a second, neither of us moved. I looked away first, pretending to be engrossed in my phone—even though the screen was still locked. Smooth, Alley.
I passed by, keeping my pace steady, but then…
"Hey," Ryan's voice cut through the hallway. Smooth. Confident. Low.
He pushed off the lockers and fell into step beside me. His presence was like a storm quietly rolling in. His friends watched, intrigued and slightly amused.
"Morning," he said—just one word, calm, no teasing, no smirk. Careful. Dangerous.
I forced a casual nod, heart racing. "Morning."
Ryan's eyes held mine, searching, intense.
"Listen…" he began, lowering his voice slightly, "about yesterday—"
One of his friends snorted. "Damn, did we interrupt something?"
Ryan didn't break eye contact. "No. You didn't," he said calmly, jaw tightening.
I raised an eyebrow, teasing lightly. "Good. Wouldn't want rumors."
His gaze sharpened slightly, flicker of annoyance crossing his eyes. Voice low and sharp: "Is that what you think this is?"
Heat crept up my neck. I stepped closer, lowering my voice just enough to tease him back. "Sometimes… rumors stop when people learn how to behave."
Ryan leaned in slightly, breath warm against my ear. "Is that what you want? Me to… behave?"
I smirked, heart racing but confident. "Maybe. Or maybe I just like seeing how long you can hold back."
His eyes darkened, searching mine, voice low and husky. "I'm not sure I know how… Not when it comes to you."
I bit back a laugh, shaking my head. "Clearly.
You're testing your self-control before class."
Ryan's lips twitched into a smirk, subtle but dangerous. "Self-control? I think it's been overestimated."
I stepped back, pretending to adjust my bag, letting the tension linger. "Well, you'll have plenty of practice."
He leaned in closer again, voice teasing but sharp. "Oh? And what makes you so confident I'll behave?"
I smirked, glancing sideways at him, playful. "Because… I've seen you when you're… not exactly behaving."
His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing—but there was that flicker of admiration hidden behind the teasing annoyance. "You're dangerous, you know that?"
"Maybe," I said lightly, smiling to myself. "But it's more fun that way."
He muttered under his breath, almost to himself: "Damn it…" His eyes didn't leave mine. "Every time."
I walked away, casually swinging my bag over my shoulder, voice sweet but teasing: "See you around, Ryan."
He ran a hand through his hair, muttering again, frustrated but fascinated. "Nothing… nothing at all," he snapped when one of his friends whispered, "What the hell is going on with you two?"
His eyes stayed on the spot where I had disappeared. But I knew—he was already planning his next move. And the battle wasn't over.
__________
My phone had been a wreck ever since Ryan stepped on it on my very first day of school, the screen spider-webbed and unresponsive. After class, I finally decided to take it to the shop for repairs.
The technician worked quickly, muttering about "stubborn screens" as he tapped and swiped. Before long, my phone buzzed in my hand.
I frowned. The screen lit up with an unfamiliar number.
Unknown Contact
"About yesterday."
I froze.
Of course. It had to be him.
I stared at the screen for a moment longer than necessary, thumb hovering over the keyboard. My heart skipped. How does he even have my number? I thought. And… how does he know I just got it fixed?
I typed, "Wait… how do you have my number? And how do you know I fixed my phone?" and hit send.
Almost immediately, the typing bubble appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
"Funny story," he wrote.
"Maybe I'm just observant… or or maybe I noticed the aftermath of the day you let me step on your phone."
I let out a soft, incredulous laugh and leaned against the wall outside the shop. Of course it's him. Of course he noticed.
"You left before we finished that conversation," he continued.
I exhaled softly. Pretty sure it ended when we almost caused a scene, I typed back.
My heart thumped. I typed again, deleting and rewriting before finally sending: "Careful. You said you weren't interested in 'more than entertainment.'"
His response came immediately, sharp and defensive.
"I didn't say I wasn't interested in you. Just… complications."
I swallowed, glancing at students passing by, oblivious to the tension buzzing in my palm. So why message me now? I typed.
After a brief pause, his reply appeared, softer this time, though still guarded.
"Because I can't stop thinking about you."
I smirked despite myself. "That sounds like a you problem," I shot back.
Almost instantly:
"Ah, so now it's a problem?"
"Then help me solve it."
"Coffee. After your shift. Just talk."
I hesitated just long enough to keep him guessing, then typed: "One coffee."
His reply was immediate, full of relief and excitement.
"Deal."
_____________
By the time I arrived at the coffee shop, Ryan was already there. Of course he was. Leaning against the counter, arms crossed, smirk in place, watching me like he'd been practicing this moment in his head all day.
"Late?" I asked lightly, trying to hide my racing heart.
"Not at all," he said smoothly, stepping closer. "I like watching you work."
I rolled my eyes, leaning over to start prepping drinks. "Uh-huh. Just entertainment, right?"
Ryan's smirk widened. "Maybe… but you make it hard to resist."
I shook my head, smiling under my breath. "You always think you're in control, don't you?"
He leaned casually against the counter, watching my movements. "Control is… relative," he murmured. "Sometimes I just like the chaos."
I glanced at him, a playful sparkle in my eyes. "Chaos, huh? Well, good luck. I'm an expert."
Ryan's gaze flicked to mine, dark, amused, and challenging. "I'm up for the challenge. I thrive in chaos."
I handed him his drink, fingers brushing briefly. Sparks, of course. I smirked. "Careful. I don't hand out victories so easily."
His eyes gleamed, confident but undeniably amused. "I don't want them easily. I like the chase."
And just like that, the quiet little coffee shop felt like the center of the most intense, teasing battle of my life. One where laughter, sparks, and stolen glances became the rules of the game—one that neither of us wanted to end.
We ordered. Silence followed—but not the empty kind. The kind that pressed in on my chest.
When our drinks arrived, our fingers brushed as we reached for the tray. Electric.
I pulled back first. He didn't miss it.
Ryan's eyes flicked to my hand, then back to my face. He took a slow sip of his coffee, gaze never leaving mine.
"So," he began, setting his cup down carefully,
"You flinch every time," he added softly.
"I don't," I replied, wrapping my hands around my cup.
His lips quirked up in a small, knowing smile. "You do," he insisted gently. "Every time our fingers touch."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering, almost a whisper.
I met his gaze evenly. "Maybe I'm deciding whether you're worth the trouble."
His knee brushed mine under the table—accidental, maybe. Neither of us moved it away.
"I didn't expect you to agree to this," he admitted.
"Why?" I asked, smirking.
Ryan's gaze darkened, searching mine like he could see right through me. "Because you're… different," he murmured, voice barely audible over the hum of the coffee shop. "You don't back down. You don't… flatter me."
I raised an eyebrow, teasing lightly. "Someone like me?"
Ryan's lips curved into a small, self-deprecating smile. "Exactly," he said softly. "Someone like… me."
His knee pressed gently against mine again, a silent apology—or a subtle test. I took a slow sip of my drink, trying to act casual.
"At least you're self-aware," I said, smirking.
He chuckled softly, warm and genuine. "I try," he replied, eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's not easy being perfect, you know."
"Then why keep coming back?" I asked, teasing but curious.
His smile faded slightly, expression serious, gaze locked with mine. "Because," he said softly, "you make me want to be better."
The air tightened, thick with unspoken tension.
I leaned in just enough to lower my voice. "This is where you decide if you're serious… or just curious."
Ryan's eyes darkened at my words, gaze sharpening. He leaned in closer, voice barely a whisper. "I'm serious," he murmured. "About you."
He leaned in too, our faces inches apart. I could feel the warmth of his breath, the subtle pull between us.
"I'm past curious," he murmured again, his lips almost brushing mine.
My heart raced.
Then—
"RYAN?!"
We froze. I pulled back instantly as Matthew stood near the counter, staring at us like he'd walked into a crime scene.
Ryan straightened, expression calm and indifferent. "Matthew," he said smoothly, not bothering to stand.
Matthew's eyes narrowed, gaze flicking between the two of us. "Seriously? Right here? Right now?"
I stood, grabbing my bag, smirking despite the situation. "Looks like your honesty test just got interrupted."
Ryan's smirk returned, faint but dangerous. "Seems so," he said quietly, voice low and teasing. "Guess I'll have to finish it… later."
I shot him a wink before turning toward the door, leaving him standing there, smirk unwavering but eyes tracking me like a predator.
Matthew muttered under his breath, muttering something about "you two being impossible," while Ryan simply shook his head, muttering softly:
"Impossible… but worth it."
_____
The walk home felt longer than usual.
Not because the distance had changed—but because my thoughts wouldn't shut up.
Ryan's voice replayed in my head, low and certain. I'm serious. About you.
The way his knee had stayed pressed against mine.
The way he hadn't flinched when Matthew caught us mid-almost-something.
I hated that part the most.
Because Ryan never let anyone see cracks. And yet, there he was—unapologetic, unbothered, eyes still tracking me like he hadn't just been interrupted.
I shoved my hands deeper into my jacket pockets as the night air brushed against my skin. The city lights blurred slightly as I walked, my mind bouncing between annoyance and something dangerously close to anticipation.
This was supposed to be simple.
Flirting. Teasing. Nothing real.
So why did it feel like I'd crossed a line I couldn't uncross?
When I reached my place, I kicked off my shoes and leaned back against the door, exhaling slowly. The quiet wrapped around me, broken only by the faint hum of traffic outside.
My phone buzzed.
I didn't need to look to know who it was.
Ryan: You always leave first.
I stared at the screen, thumb hovering.
Me: Someone has to be responsible.
The reply came faster than I expected.
Ryan: Funny. I was just thinking you don't act like someone who runs.
I frowned, sinking onto the edge of my bed.
Me: Don't read into it.
A pause. Longer this time.
Ryan: Too late.
My heart did that annoying thing again.
I locked my phone face-down on the bed like that would magically stop my thoughts. It didn't. If anything, it made them louder.
Ryan wasn't supposed to matter.
People like him didn't change. They collected moments, not consequences. And yet…
tonight hadn't felt like a game. It had felt like a question neither of us had answered yet.
I fell asleep with that thought sitting heavy in my chest.
That night, sleep refused to cooperate.
I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, replaying the way Ryan had looked at me earlier—not amused, not cocky, just… intent. Like he was trying to solve a puzzle he hadn't expected to care about.
I rolled onto my side and grabbed my phone again, fully aware of how pathetic that was.
Nothing.
No new messages. No teasing follow-up. No smug remark.
For some reason, that unsettled me more than if he'd texted.
Ryan always filled silence. He hated unfinished things.
So why was he quiet now?
I locked my phone and forced myself to breathe. This was good. Distance. Space. Proof that I wasn't spiraling over one intense coffee and a handful of almost-kisses.
Except the next morning proved how wrong I was.
The moment I stepped onto campus, the air felt charged again. Not loud—just sharp. Like static before a storm.
I caught fragments of conversation as I passed.
"…saw them together—" "…was that Ryan?" "…no way, right?"
I kept my head up, shoulders back, refusing to let it show that my heart was hammering.
Then, halfway down the main walkway, I felt it.
That unmistakable pull.
Ryan stood near the steps this time, alone. No friends. No audience. Just him, scrolling through his phone like he wasn't very aware of everything around him.
Until he looked up.
His gaze found mine instantly.
No hesitation.
Something about that—that certainty—sent a shiver straight down my spine.
He pushed off the railing and walked toward me, unhurried, confident, like he already knew I wouldn't move away.
"Morning," he said again, softer this time.
"Morning," I replied, quieter than I meant to.
For a second, neither of us spoke. The silence stretched—not awkward, just heavy with everything we weren't saying.
"You didn't answer me last night," he said finally.
"I fell asleep," I said. Not a lie. Just not the whole truth.
He studied my face like he was checking for cracks. "You do that when you're overwhelmed."
I frowned. "You don't know me that well."
"No," he agreed. "But I'm learning."
That did something dangerous to my chest.
Students passed us, some slowing, some openly staring now. Ryan noticed—and instead of stepping back, he moved closer.
Deliberate.
Possessive, without touching.
"You don't like being watched," he murmured.
"But you don't run either."
"Maybe I'm stubborn," I said lightly.
His lips curved into a faint smile. "That's one word for it."
Another beat of silence.
Then, quieter: "I meant what I said."
I searched his face, trying to find the trick, the angle. "Ryan… you don't usually do 'no games.'"
"I know," he said simply. "That's why this is different."
Different.
The word lingered between us.
A voice called his name from behind—someone impatient this time. Ryan exhaled through his nose, annoyance flickering across his face before he looked back at me.
"I'll see you later," he said. Again—not a question.
"Ryan," I said before he could turn away.
He paused.
"You're sure you know what you're doing?" I asked quietly.
For a moment, the teasing disappeared completely. His gaze sharpened, serious and steady.
"No," he admitted. "But I know I don't want to stop."
Then he walked away.
I stood there longer than I should have, heart racing, mind spinning.
Whatever this was—it wasn't fading.
It was building.
And I had a feeling Ryan was about to do something that would make ignoring him impossible.
END OF CHAPTER 2