The next morning, the art department's main notice board, usually a humble display of student talent, was buzzing. Mia, discreetly sipping her coffee across the quad with James, watched the scene unfold with a thrill she hadn't felt since landing her first perfect jump on the trampoline. Her piece, strategically placed in the center, was drawing an unusual amount of attention. Students pointed, whispered, and a few pulled out their phones, snapping pictures with barely suppressed giggles.
"What's got everyone so worked up?" James mumbled around a bite of his bagel, oblivious. "Did someone finally figure out the quadratic formula?"
Mia just smiled into her mug. "Something like that."
It was then that Kris emerged from the Business Management building, a small entourage of his section friends trailing behind him, all looking impeccably put-together. He strode across the quad, a picture of effortless coolness, probably heading for his usual high-traffic, low-effort meeting point. But as he drew closer to the main thoroughfare, he noticed the growing cluster around the notice board. He frowned, a slight crease appearing between his perfectly sculpted brows.
"What's everyone gawking at?" he heard Kris ask one of his friends, his voice tinged with mild annoyance.
The friend, a lanky guy named Mark, just shrugged, then squinted. "Looks like... some art? Why are they laughing?"
Kris's frown deepened. His gaze swept over the crowd, then landed on the notice board. Mia held her breath. He saw the title first. "The Primate Prince of Asphalt." Then his eyes dropped to the image.
For a long, agonizing moment, he stood perfectly still. The usual arrogant posture seemed to stiffen. His friends, still chatting amongst themselves, hadn't quite put it together. But Mia saw it. The almost imperceptible clenching of his jaw. The way his eyes, even behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses, narrowed to icy slits as he took in the familiar bike, the all-too-familiar black attire, the white sneakers, and the utterly unmistakable smirk on the monkey's face. It was him. It was undeniably, hilariously him.
A slow, terrifying realization dawned on Kris's face. The laughter of the surrounding students, previously just background noise, now felt pointed, directed, and amplified. He felt their eyes, their silent judgment. He felt the heat rising in his cheeks.
"Oh," Mark suddenly gasped, his eyes wide as he finally processed the details. "Oh my god, Kris, that's... that's your bike! And is that... a monkey wearing your jacket?" A snort escaped him, quickly stifled.
Kris didn't answer. His gaze was fixed on the small, almost invisible signature in the corner of the piece: M and smiley icon. – Mia's Signature. He slowly lifted his head, his eyes scanning the quad, searching.
Mia met his gaze from across the grass, a sweet, innocent smile blooming on her face, almost angelic. She lifted her coffee cup in a small, almost imperceptible toast.
Kris's eyes, when they finally locked onto hers, were pure fire. There was no longer any hint of the vulnerable boy from the bridge, nor the playful troublemaker. This was the rich, arrogant brat, stripped of his composure and utterly exposed. He knew. He knew she knew. And he knew she had done it deliberately.
He started to stride towards her, his perfect composure shattering with every furious step. James, finally noticing the shift in Kris's demeanor and the direction of his angry march, choked on his bagel.
"Uh oh," James mumbled, looking from Kris's furious face to Mia's smug one. "Did you... do something, Mia?"
Mini merely took another sip of her coffee, her eyes sparkling with unholy triumph. "Just expressing myself, James. Art, you know."
Kris stopped a few feet away, his chest heaving slightly, his eyes blazing. He opened his mouth, but for once, he seemed speechless. The crowd around the notice board continued to buzz, a testament to Mia's silent, glittering victory. The battle lines were drawn. And this time, Mia had thrown a punch that truly landed.