THYME'S POV:
Khun Ahan Yimgin. My full name. It echoed in my ears, a chilling pronouncement from the girl who stood at the head of the menacing wall of students. How did they know that? My mind raced, trying to grasp the new, terrifying depth of this situation. This wasn't mere idle gossip; this was a planned interrogation. I forced a polite smile, though my hands clenched into fists at my sides. "Yes, I am. What can I do for you?" I tried to act as polite as possible, a desperate attempt to diffuse whatever was coming.
"Thyme, are you trying to run away from us?" Dom's voice came from behind, but he stopped when he noticed I was talking to someone.
"Are you Meta's Boyfriend?" The leader's question hit me like a physical blow. Shit, are they serious?!
"No, I'm not!" I denied instantly, perhaps too vehemently.
"I don't believe you. Meta only has three friends, and all of them are from the Faculty of Engineering," another girl spoke up, her voice sharp and accusatory.
"I..." How could I possibly explain this to strangers? It was too embarrassing to blurt out the truth to people I'd just met.
"She is right! We are Meta's admirers since high school, and we've never seen you with Meta before, so what is your relationship with him?" Their questions were getting more piercing, their expressions more menacing.
"I'm not his b..." I tried to deny the accusation again, but their collective presence was becoming overwhelming. They were getting scarier by the second.
I grabbed Dom and Lance, yanking them forward. "Sorry, guys, please help me run away from them!" I used them as human shields, practically shoving them into the path of those girls, and then I bolted like a startled gazelle. I could hear their shouts, a furious, high-pitched chorus calling my name.
"Hey! Don't run away from us!" Shit, they were faster runners than I expected. Seriously, what were these girls eating for breakfast—pure adrenaline and a side of vengeance? Another problem immediately emerged: my own admirers, a second tidal wave of adoration and awkwardness, were waiting for me outside my faculty, also in a group.
"Shit, this is troublesome!" My brain screamed, a tiny panic button being hammered repeatedly. What should I do? God, please help me, please save me! This wasn't just a chase; it was a full-blown, multi-directional stampede of affection and fury.
"That's Thyme, guys!" Shit, they noticed me. Both groups were now running, converging, chasing me as well. I don't intend to do parkour, but at this rate, I might be forced to scale buildings or leap across rooftops. My life had officially become an absurd action movie, starring me, the reluctant romantic lead. I veered hard towards the football field, a vast green expanse that promised at least temporary escape. When I saw the chain-link fence for the field, I immediately scrambled over it, hoping my chasers would be deterred.
No such luck.
Some of the girls, clearly trained in the art of pursuit, used another path, while others, shockingly agile, clambered over the fence like determined squirrels, their screams echoing across the field. My admirers were right behind them, a mix of hopeful romantics and vaguely creepy stalkers, all equally adept at hurdling obstacles.
I ran as fast as I could, weaving through the bewildered students playing football. "Move away!" I bellowed, my voice cracking, dodging players like they were sentient cones in a bizarre obstacle course. They immediately scattered, probably thinking I was some deranged streaker, which, honestly, felt like a step up from "Master of Food Who Smiles While Eating" or "Meta's Secret Boyfriend."
Then, amidst the chaos, someone caught my eye: the colossal, infuriating source of this entire problem. Meta. He was wearing a soccer uniform, a splash of vibrant color in my grey world of panic, clearly a member of the football team. He looked unfairly composed, even in athletic gear. My first instinct was to stop running, to march right up to him and demand an explanation for the literal mob on my heels, but the collective roar of my pursuers reminded me that wasn't an option.
Meta noticed me. His eyes, somehow still burning with that steel-melting intensity, widened slightly.
"Hey, Snotty Kid, what are you doing here?" he called out, his voice annoyingly calm despite the impending human avalanche.
"I don't have time to explain!" I screeched back, then, without thinking, I grabbed his arm. It was solid muscle, like grabbing a tree trunk. I pulled him with all my might, forcing him to run with me.
"Wait! What are you doing?!" Meta tried to dig his heels in, but then he turned, saw the sheer, terrifying number of students converging on us, and his eyes flickered with a rare moment of something that looked suspiciously like comprehension, perhaps even a flicker of alarm. He just started running, matching my frantic pace.
"Hey! Meta, where are you going!" one of his teammates shouted, probably bewildered to see their star player suddenly become part of a bizarre, impromptu cross-campus marathon. But we ignored them. We just kept running. Because when you're caught between a rock, a hard place, and approximately more than a hundred furious chasers, the only logical thing to do is run like hell.
"Let me grab my bag first," Meta said, and I nodded. He pulled me towards the bench, retrieved his bag with a casual sweep, then motioned for me to follow.
"Follow me," he instructed, leading me towards the parking lot. The parking lot? I was a little confused. But then I saw it: a sleek, black, expensive sedan. This was our escape vehicle. My eyes widened. I recognized it—a BMW 520i. That car cost around 3.6 to 3.7 million baht. Is this guy seriously that rich? My mind reeled. The sheer audacity of it all, fleeing a mob in a luxury vehicle.
"What are you spacing out for? Come inside," Meta's voice cut through my thoughts, snapping me back to reality. Right. On the run. Not the time to marvel at German engineering.
"Yeah... So... Sorry," I mumbled, scrambling into the passenger seat. I was painstakingly careful closing the door, terrified I might scratch or damage the pristine paint. My meager monthly allowance wouldn't even cover a dent.
"Why do you look so stiff?" Meta asked, a teasing glint in his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing. Who wouldn't be nervous riding in a car like this? A single scratch, a minor ding, and I'd be working for him for the rest of my life to pay it off.
"Just drive already! Your admirers might know which one is your car, we might end up being caught!" I urged, peering frantically out the window.
"But where should we go?" he asked, surprisingly calm.
"Just go to any place as long as no one catches us!"
"Okay," he responded, and the engine rumbled to life, a low, powerful purr.
"Hey, drive now!" I saw them—a terrifying wave of his fans and my own admirers, a combined force, making a beeline for the parking lot.
"Calm down. They won't catch us," Meta said, still infuriatingly collected. But I wasn't calm. It was his fault I was in this situation! Or... was it my fault? I wanted to smash my head against something to wake up from this nightmare, but when I looked around, everything in the car seemed so impossibly expensive. This was no dream.
Luckily, Meta accelerated just in time, the powerful sedan surging forward, leaving the screaming mob behind.
"Shit!" The word slipped out, an involuntary explosion of relief and lingering panic. I immediately slapped a hand over my mouth. I couldn't believe I'd just cursed out loud.
"Is cursing your favorite choice of words?" Meta asked, a mocking grin spreading across his face.
"No, it's not like that! I'm just always getting nervous when you're nearby, and I blurted out my thou—" I immediately covered my mouth again. Damn it, Thyme! Stop blurting out your thoughts!
"This is really embarrassing, Thyme," I whispered to myself, cheeks burning, as Meta erupted into laughter. Yesterday, I hadn't dared to stare at him directly, but now, so close, I could clearly see how undeniably handsome he was. His laugh, though—it was a bit off, like a villain cackling at the hero's defeat. It was hard to describe, but his handsomeness was undeniably devilish, not the angelic type. I could even feel a shiver tracing down my spine with that unsettling, scary laugh.
"Oh, so you're getting nervous? Then....."
"Don't you dare continue what you're trying to say!" I cut him off before he could utter anything more ridiculous.
"Calm down, Snotty Kid. All I wanted to say is I look scary sometimes, and that might be the reason why you're getting nervous."
"Ahh, I see," I said, trying to sound dismissive, even as a tiny part of me considered it.
"Are you thinking something else?" he pressed, that teasing glint back in his eyes.
"Can you please focus on driving?" I retorted. He just laughed it off, but thankfully, he stopped teasing me. I had no idea where we were going, but one thing was certain: it was a place far, far away from those relentless pursuers.