Chapter Three: Lucas's Perspective
I had been through enough group projects to know what I was in for, and usually, it was easy. Most people either fell in line, got intimidated, or tried so hard to impress that I couldn't help but watch with a smirk. Today, though, as I scanned the list of assigned partners for the industrial training project, my eyes landed on one name—Rose.
She was quiet, serious, and at first glance, ordinary. But there was something about the way she carried herself, the slight intensity in her gaze, that made me pause for a fraction of a second longer than usual. Not that I was in love, or even close to it. I wasn't that type of guy. I wasn't about feelings, commitments, or anything serious. But I was curious. That was enough for now.
I leaned back in my chair as she approached, notebook clutched to her chest like a shield. I decided to make the first move—because I always did. "Rose… really?" I asked, smirking, letting my tone carry a hint of playful teasing. "That's your name? Kind of cute, don't you think?"
She looked up, a faint blush coloring her cheeks, and shot me a glance that was both annoyed and guarded. My smirk widened. Perfect. Exactly the reaction I wanted.
"Yes. And you're Lucas," she said firmly, holding out her hand. "And apparently, we're stuck together for this project. Lucky us."
I shook her hand and grinned. Lucky us, indeed. She was calm, polite, and not trying to run away from me, which was… unusual. Most people either fawned or froze when I teased them. But not Rose. She was steady, collected, and somehow unbothered by my usual charm.
The project itself was supposed to be simple enough. We had to research, plan, and deliver a marketing strategy for a small local business. Easy on paper. But as the first few hours unfolded, I realized this wasn't going to be about deadlines or ideas—it was about her. About watching how she moved, how she thought, how she reacted.
She wasn't dramatic, didn't try to dominate conversations, and certainly didn't laugh at everything I said—which made it all the more interesting. There was a quiet intelligence about her that drew my attention without me wanting it to. I tried my usual playful teasing, dropping little comments, nudging the discussion in funny directions, and even poking fun at the group's indecisiveness. She ignored most of it, focusing on her notes, occasionally giving a clear, well-thought-out suggestion.
I caught myself glancing at her more than once, taking in the subtle movements: the way she tucked a stray hair behind her ear, the slight frown when she was concentrating, the careful way she wrote in her notebook. Nothing dramatic, nothing exaggerated—but for some reason, my attention kept returning to her.
During a break, she sat quietly at a corner table, sipping water and reviewing her notes. I sauntered over, coffee in hand, and leaned casually against the edge of the table. "You really take this seriously, huh?" I asked lightly, watching her eyes flick up to meet mine.
"I like to be organized," she said calmly. "It makes everything easier to manage."
I chuckled softly. "I can tell. You're the type who plans every little thing. Me? I like to go with the flow. Makes life… more interesting."
She didn't reply immediately. Just looked at me, a mixture of curiosity and judgment in her expression. "Interesting… sounds like chaos," she finally said.
I grinned. "Maybe it is. But chaos can produce the best results, don't you think?"
Her faint glare made me laugh softly. She was composed, but she had this little spark that I could tease without pushing too far. I liked that. Most girls either melted under my charm or rolled their eyes, but she… she was different. Calm, strong, and stubborn without being overbearing.
Over the next few days, working together became routine, yet the moments we shared were far from ordinary. She was methodical, careful, and observant, while I floated between teasing and suggesting, throwing out ideas with a smile, sometimes serious, sometimes half-joking. I noticed she corrected mistakes quietly, listened to everyone without fuss, and rarely reacted to my jokes the way I expected. That made it fun. It made me want to see what she would do next, how she would respond if I nudged her a little more.
I caught glimpses of things that no one else seemed to notice. How she paused mid-thought when reviewing a proposal, the way she scribbled small notes in the margins, how she tilted her head slightly when listening. There was a subtle strength in her I hadn't expected. And even though I was a playboy through and through, I found myself… paying attention. Not love. Not yet. Just curious. Interested. Intrigued.
I didn't know why. I didn't care to analyze it too much. Rose wasn't someone I was falling for—not yet. But she was someone I wanted to understand, someone I wanted to see react, someone I wanted to tease and test without ever pushing her too far. She was steady, and that steadiness was almost a challenge in itself.
Walking back to my accommodation after another long day, I thought about her again—the quiet way she focused, the subtle determination in her eyes, the small blush when I teased her. I shook my head, trying to remind myself I wasn't in this for anything serious. I was Lucas. I didn't do attachments, feelings, or complications. I did intrigue, curiosity, and occasional fun.
But for some reason, Rose made all of that feel… different. Not in a way that would change me, not yet. But in a way that made me want to slow down, notice the details, and maybe—just maybe—see where this curiosity could lead.
And that was enough for now.