Mani leaned against the railing outside his dorm, scrolling through his phone as the night air cooled around him. His feed was buzzing — whispers about the café, photos of the roses, students debating whether Brooklyn was "Team Bryant" or "Team Mani."
He smirked. Attention wasn't the problem. He'd gotten exactly what he wanted: the campus knew where he stood. What bothered him was Brooklyn's silence afterward.
She hadn't called. She hadn't messaged. Not even a thank you for the roses.
And that silence gnawed at him more than he cared to admit.
A door opened behind him. One of his friends, Darren, stepped out, sipping a soda. "Mani, you're everywhere right now, bro. That move with the roses? Legendary."
"Legendary doesn't mean effective," Mani muttered, shoving his phone into his pocket.
Darren raised a brow. "You worried about Bryant?"
Mani's jaw tightened at the name. "He's already got the campus wrapped around his finger. The last thing I'm doing is letting him steal Brooklyn too."
"Then what's the plan?" Darren asked casually.
Mani's eyes narrowed, his voice dropping. "Simple. I'll make sure she sees the truth. Bryant's not who she thinks he is. All I need is the right moment."
Darren gave a low whistle. "Careful, man. Brooklyn doesn't look like the type who likes games."
Mani's lips curved into a small, confident smile. "It's not a game if I'm right."
But even as he said it, Mani couldn't shake the image of Brooklyn looking at Bryant — not during the café, but afterward, when she thought no one was watching.
There had been something in her eyes.
And Mani knew if he didn't act fast, he might lose her.