She didn't walk in like she owned the place.
But somehow, the room shifted like it belonged to her.
Flowy cream dress. Loose sleeves that danced around her wrists. Hair slightly damp from the morning humidity. She looked fresh, soft, untouchable.
And that was the problem.
She wasn't trying. Not even a little.
But heads turned anyway.
Especially theirs.
The boys were posted up like usual—outside the café, sprawled over the benches like they were born there. The group's usual chaos had been mid-volume: Faizan talking filth, Alzan laughing too loud, Zafar looking annoyed at everyone's existence, and Riyaz mumbling something under his breath.
Then she walked past.
And every single one of them went quiet.
Not because they were being polite.
Because they all just had the same exact thought—and none of it was safe for college premises.
"What the f—" Alzan muttered, sitting up.
Junaid didn't speak. He just leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head tilted as he watched her take slow steps across the corridor.
Black eyes. Pink gloss. The little sway in her hips—not exaggerated, just natural. Her bag strap dipped off her shoulder and she adjusted it absentmindedly—and that one casual motion?
Yeah, Junaid was already imagining things. Things he shouldn't.
Zain, seated at the edge of the group, smirked. "She's new," he said simply, tone smooth.
Alzan raised an eyebrow, "No shit. What gave it away—her innocence or the fact that Junaid just forgot how to breathe?"
"Shut up," Junaid muttered, eyes still locked on her.
She hadn't even looked at them. She was too focused on reading the class schedule on the board, completely unaware of how five grown men had collectively lost their minds.
"Yeh toh gaya," Faizan whispered, grinning.
Riyaz snorted. "She's wearing a damn dress, and he's already undressing her with his eyes."
Zain leaned back, stretching his arms. "She walks like she knows she's being watched but doesn't care."
"She doesn't know yet," Junaid said under his breath. Voice low. Dark. "She will."
Zafar, who hadn't said a word until now, spoke up. "You're not the only one watching."
That made Junaid pause.
His jaw clenched.
Because it was true.
Zain was still staring.
Alzan was smirking.
Even Riyaz had that look in his eyes—the one that meant he'd already noticed how the dress hugged her waist just right.
Junaid felt something tighten in his chest. Possessive. Irritated.
Like someone had touched something that wasn't theirs to touch.
"You haven't even spoken to her," Zain said casually, catching Junaid's vibe like a sniper. "Relax."
"I will," Junaid said, standing up. His voice was calm. His walk? Not so much. There was purpose in the way he crossed the corridor.
Like he wasn't just going to talk to a fresher.
Like he was going to make a memory.
She turned around just as he reached.
And for the first time—she looked at him.
Right into his eyes.
And damn near everything around him blurred.
She blinked once. Calm. Cool. Unbothered.
"Hi," she said, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "You're staring. It's weird."
Junaid's smirk tugged up instantly.
Oh, she was bold.
He liked that.
Too much.
"I wasn't staring," he said smoothly, tilting his head, voice lazy. "I was wondering…"
She raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"If you always look this pretty, or is this just a freshers' week thing?"
A beat.
She smiled—sweet, dangerous. "Depends. Are you always this annoying, or just when you see someone you can't have?"
Oof.
Behind him, Alzan let out a loud "OOHHH DAMN!"
Junaid didn't flinch.
He just bit down a laugh, eyes gleaming, and said, "Sunshine... we'll see about that."