That evening, after St. Cross College closed for the day, I made up my mind — I had to apologize to him. But he was nowhere to be found. I checked the library, the courtyard, even near the main gates, but he was nowhere to be found. I sighed. I thought to myself, 'Oh well, he must have gone home'.
Not ready to call it a night, I wandered toward the Radcliffe Camera. The ancient dome looked almost mesmerizing under the fading light — golden stone glowing against the deep blue sky. As I walked around, I noticed a narrow staircase leading upward to the roof.
Curiosity got the better of me. When I reached the roof, the view was breathtaking. I could see every building around. From up there, Oxford shimmered — rooftops, spires, and students below, laughing in the dusk breeze and I smiled softly. My eyes scanned everything, and then I caught sight of him. He was resting his forearms on the railing at the far end of the roof, I could only see his back and his shoulders slightly hunched. He looked lost in thought. I walked closer. I hesitated. The wind was blowing swiftly, and my hair was all over my face. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, stepped closer and tapped him on the shoulder.
"He spun around instantly and before I could even blink, he grabbed my wrist and pushed me back against the wall."
"Ouch," I winced in pain.
For a heartbeat, we just stood there — too close. We were inches apart. He looked straight into my eyes—his ocean-blue eyes were so beautiful, a girl could get lost in them. But he was so arrogant. I had never been this close to a guy before, and his grip on my arm was still firm and his breath warm against my cheek.
We stood like that for about fifteen seconds. Maybe less. But it felt like forever. Then he blinked, realization dawning, and released my hand.
Realizing what he was doing, he let go of my arm and asked, "How do you keep finding me? What do you want? I told you to leave me alone—I don't want to see your face!"
I swallowed hard. "I… I came to apologize. I'm really sorry about earlier. I don't know if you're some kind of campus royalty or just popular for being rude, but please — stop being so angry with everyone."
"That's none of your business, okay? Just leave me alone," he snapped.
I exhaled and did something even I didn't expect. I knelt and apologized again, begging for his forgiveness.
He stared at me, speechless but didn't move.
"I won't get up from here until you forgive me," I said quietly.
"Then sleep here for all I care. Good night," he scoffed and walked away.
"Please," I called out one last time before he disappeared.
He disappeared down the stairs. I stayed there, the stone floor cold beneath my knees and the wind biting my face. He'll come back, I told myself. What he didn't know was that I always meant what I said. I was still kneeling there when he returned.
"You're not joking. Get up and leave," he muttered.
"I won't leave until you forgive me. Don't you get it?" I replied.
It was getting dark, and the temperature was dropping. I hadn't brought my jacket. He groaned, running a hand through his hair.
"You're too stubborn. Get up and go home!" he yelled, sending shivers down my spine. The wind picked up, colder now and I started shivering. My fingers were trembling and my eyes welled up, and tears rolled down my cheeks.
"Okay, fine. I forgive you. You really don't know how to give up, do you?" he asked.
I smiled weakly through the wind. "No, I don't. And thank you so much. Really, thank you."
He sighed, smiling a little softer this time. "Alright, alright. It's fine. Now get up, take my jacket, and go home."
He slipped it off and held it out. For a moment, I couldn't move. I was stunned. It was the first time I'd seen him smile—he was usually so grumpy. His teeth were perfect. Well, it had only been a day since I met him, so maybe he's nicer than he seems.
I took the jacket and put it on. It was warm, smelled faintly of cedar and something expensive. I started walking toward the stairs, then paused and looked back. He was looking at me too, but the moment our eyes met, he looked away.
"When should I return your jacket?" I asked, touching the collar.
"I'll get it tomorrow at school," he said.
"Alright. Aren't you going home?" I asked.
He rolled his eyes, getting irritated, he yelled, "Please just leave!"
"Okay, okay, I'm going," I said quickly.
I hurried down the steps, called a cab, and as I climbed in, I couldn't help smiling to myself.
"He's tough... but sweet."
The cab arrived, and I went straight home. By the time I reached my flat, it was 7:20 p.m. I had dinner, showered, brushed my teeth, and fell into bed — still wrapped in his scent.
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Christopher's POV.
That evening, after classes, I went up to the Radcliffe Camera roof — my usual escape from everything. The city looked peaceful from up there. I needed silence… but fate had other plans. When I felt a tap on my shoulder, my reflexes took over. I grabbed the hand and pinned whoever it was against the wall. And of course — it was her.
She stared at me with soulful brown eyes and curly, gorgeous hair flying in the wind—but she was stubborn. I caught myself and stepped back, asking what she wanted. Then she said something that made me angry. But she also knelt down and apologized for slapping me. Me—the guy she'd slapped in front of everyone.
I was shocked she actually knelt for me. I told her to get up and leave, but she refused to move unless I forgave her. So I said she could sleep there and walked away. I didn't even care what happened to her. I went downstairs, but then I remembered the bet, the slap, and something about her words, or maybe the way she meant them made me turn back.
She was still there—shivering, stubborn as ever. She wasn't easy to deal with, but I told her I forgave her and gave her my jacket because she was cold. She looked surprised, touching the fabric as if it were something sacred. Then she started walking toward the door, paused, and looked back. I was watching her. Our eyes met, and my chest tightened. She smiled like the storm had just ended, and I quickly looked away.
She asked when to return the jacket, and I told her, "Tomorrow." Then she asked another question—too many questions—and I finally snapped, telling her to just go. After she left, I stood there, staring out at the skyline. The wind was sharp, but somehow, I didn't feel cold anymore.
That's when I realized—I never even asked her name. I checked my phone. 7:00 p.m. I went downstairs, caught a taxi, and by the time I got home, it was almost 7:30. I ate, brushed my teeth, showered, and tried to sleep. But as I lay in bed, I kept thinking about her. She's adorable but so annoying and her face kept flashing in my mind. Those eyes. That ridiculous determination. That warmth.
I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Was I falling for her? Or was it just in my head? No. Impossible. Groaning, I rolled over, grabbed the sleeping pills from my nightstand, and muttered, 'She's driving me insane… and it's only day one.' Then I swallowed one and turned off the light.