PART 1 — "The Boy I Swore I'd Never Forgive"
The first time I saw Adrian Reyes again, it felt like the world had played a cruel joke on me.
I was standing in the entrance hall of Saint Clements University's College of Environmental Studies—my first day as a freshman—holding my class schedule and trying not to look like someone who had cried in the bathroom thirty minutes earlier from nerves. Students passed by in buzzing clusters, tapping ID cards, laughing, wearing the scent of new beginnings.
And then he walked in.
Adrian Reyes. My childhood friend. My childhood *enemy*. A walking reminder of the one person I vowed never to speak to again.
He looked almost the same—messy dark hair, tanned skin, careless posture—but taller, older, sharper around the edges. The boys from high school used to joke that he looked like sunshine in human form. But to me? He was a solar flare. Too bright. Too damaging.
And he was heading straight toward me.
No. No. No.
I turned around immediately, pretending to be fascinated by a potted fern.
"It's been a while, Eli."
His voice. I hated that it still felt familiar.
I exhaled slowly before facing him. "Adrian."
His lips pulled into a small smile that I didn't return. "Didn't think I'd see you here."
"Same."
We stood there with the awkward, prickly silence of two people who once shared everything but now shared nothing except unresolved tension.
"So…" he began, scratching the back of his neck. "You're taking Environmental Studies too?"
"Surprise," I replied flatly.
He winced a little. "Right. Well, I guess we'll be seeing each other—"
"Let's not," I said, stepping aside to walk past him.
He didn't try to stop me.
But as I walked away, my heart wouldn't stop pounding. Not from fear. Not from excitement. But from memory.
The incident that ruined everything replayed like a broken tape.
We were twelve. Best friends. Two halves of a whole.
And then he broke my trust in the worst way possible.
I shook the thought away. I wasn't that boy anymore. I had changed. I had walls now—strong ones.
But college, apparently, had a twisted sense of humor.
Because when I entered my first class, I found Adrian sitting in the only empty seat next to mine.
"Looks like we're seatmates," he said, a little sheepishly.
I sat down without acknowledging him.
Our professor soon arrived and clapped loudly. "Welcome to Field Ecology! This semester includes our major field activity: a three-day trip to Calintria Forest."
A murmur of excitement rippled across the room.
I didn't share it.
Because she added next:
"You will be partnered with your assigned seatmate for the entire trip. Data collection, tent sharing, and activity logs will all be done in pairs."
My stomach dropped.
I slowly turned.
Adrian was already looking at me with wide, horrified eyes.
We spoke at the same time.
"No."