It's been four years of walking through these halls. The final semester's almost up, and next year? Graduation. Honestly, five years feels criminally fast. University should take at least ten- anything to delay the inevitable reality of taking over my father's business. I'm far too lazy for a CEO title before thirty. Let him enjoy it while it lasts.
I tapped my ID on the scanner (fancy name: biometric attendance machine, but let's not pretend I care), and strolled into Mrs. Rosette's lecture hall.
Ah, Mrs. Rosette. Lovely woman. Never asks why I'm late, which is one of the top five reasons I might have a subtle crush on her.
I took a seat somewhere mid-row-neutral territory. Wasn't even thirty seconds in when a ghost materialized beside me.
Meet Rylan Chase.
He's got this suspiciously perfect brown hair he swears he didn't dye (we all know he did), and eyes of some peculiar shade he insists are hazel. He's tall-like 5'11-but not my tall. I'm taller, which is obviously one of my favorite flexes. Still, I'll give it to him-good face card, annoyingly sharp jawline, and (not that I'll say it out loud)... he's actually kind of handsome.
I unofficially crowned him my best mate a few years ago and haven't had a reason to snatch the title back. I'm pretty sure he was chilling in the last row, but seeing me sit here must've triggered some divine mission, because this cold-hearted idiot ran to catch up.
And Rylan running? That usually means he's got something big.
He leaned in, lowered his voice like we were planning a heist, and said, "Know what?"
I played along. "What?"
"I saw your girl with Reek. Bet she's tired of you."
I raised an eyebrow. "Let the lecture end. She'll be running here like it's magnetic pull."
He squinted at me, trying to read if I actually meant it.
So I added with a shrug, "Just playing the jealousy card. Happens when they're still hooked."
He went quiet, because he loves acting like he's the mysterious one, who he might be, I don't know.
About an hour later, Mrs. Rosette's sweet voice stopped echoing through the hall-lecture over. Rylan and I were walking out when, just as I predicted, a blonde streak came jogging straight toward me.
Meet Daisy.
She's a pretty girl-blonde hair, water-blue eyes, and... well, not much else to note. She's been orbiting around me for about a week now and already trying the classic jealousy tactics as Rylan reported.
She reached me a little breathless, panting slightly from the mini race. "Hey, Ash!"
I gave her a smile-or was it a smirk? Same thing. "Your lecture's over too?"
She nodded eagerly. "Let's go to the coffee shop! I've got fifteen minutes before my next class."
I casually slung my arm around Rylan's neck for added dramatic flair. "But I've got another lecture right now," I said, then gave her a slow blink. "And Lan already saw what you wanted me to see."
I shot her a wink and walked off with Rylan.
(We weren't heading to any lecture. We made a proud detour straight to the cafeteria.)
As we entered the cafeteria, we spotted them-our classic friend group. Or maybe not a "group" exactly... more like a collective of egos who happened to tolerate each other extremely well.
They'd already possessed the largest table in the room. Not reserved-possessed. Like a throne room for overgrown university royalty. Nine or ten familiar faces filled the seats, but let's be honest-only five of us ever truly mattered. And yes, everyone knows it.
We already know my best mate, Rylan Chase, sitting like a ghost who owns the place.
Then there's Leon-the laid-back genius with naturally brown hair (not dyed, unlike some people) and piercing blue eyes that seem to permanently judge the world. He's in Chemical Engineering and somehow never breaks a sweat, even when the rest of the department's melting down over thermodynamics. Always calm. Always cool. The guy could walk into an explosion and ask if anyone needed coffee.
Next up, Kyle-blond hair that looks like it was kissed by sunlight and eyes the color of amber. He's the one with the weirdest obsession ever: astrophysics. I mean, the guy's literally calculating the death of stars for fun. Always deep in his own head, quoting space theories like poetry, and yet somehow still manages to look like he belongs on the cover of a luxury fashion magazine.
Sam sits next to him, dirty blond hair tousled like he woke up from a nap-and he probably did. Blue eyes, same department as Leon, but way less chill. Sam's the type who's either flirting, fighting, or failing to remember deadlines. But girls dig the mess. He's chaotic good, I'll give him that.
And then, well... there's me.
No exaggeration, they call me the cherry on top. I'm not flattering myself-it's just what people say. We're five names everyone knows, honestly. Also because, our family backgrounds are of tycoons.
Girls want us. Boys want to be us. Or hate us. Which, honestly, is the same thing.
As I sit there, massaging my forehead 'cause it owes me answers, and of course, I blame my pathetic sleep schedule. Between cramming for midterms and getting nightly visits from Mirror Girl in my subconscious, I'm starting to feel too exhausted. My brain is fried, my eyelids are staging a protest, and if someone doesn't bring me caffeine soon, I might start crying in public-and not in a poetic way.
"Would someone care to bring a cup of coffee? To a man running on three hours of sleep and psychological trauma?" I mutter, dragging my fingers down my face.
Leon barely glances up. "Try saying it louder, barista won't hear your urge spiritually."
Kyle, as always, stirs his drink like he's mixing potions at Hogwarts. "If Daisy knew you were tired, she'd probably show up with an IV drip."
Sam snorts into his iced latte. "Or cry because you didn't use a heart emoji last night."
I lift my head, squinting at them. "It's not like you know if I even replied to her messages."
Rylan, unfortunately for him-sips his drink with the smug patience of someone waiting for my inevitable downfall. "Why? Because you were using that time to flirt with five people at once?"
I shoot him a look. "I was being polite by replying to others. My politeness just happens to be charming."
Leon raises a brow. "Your politeness needs a restraining order. Especially when you're taken."
I waved him off. "She's exhausting. It's been like a week and she's already drafted my wedding invitation and blocked three girls I don't even know."
My phone vibrates. I glance. Daisy, again: 'Saw you walk into the café. Guess your 'lecture' ended early? 🙂'
I hold up the phone like it's evidence at a crime scene. "Do I look like I have energy for this?"
Kyle shrugs. "You chose this life."
"I chose good hair and a decent jawline. The rest just happened."
Sam grins. "She's probably outside right now, rehearsing her dramatic entrance."
And as if summoned by Sam himself, Daisy's silhouette flickers by the glass for a split second before disappearing again.
"Someone please," I sigh, "bring me coffee before I switch to herbal tea and therapy."
Leon slides his untouched cup toward me without looking. "Try not to spill your emotional damage into it."
I take it. Sip. "Tastes like disappointment. Perfect."
Around me, chaos continues. Someone's ranting about an overdue assignment, Sam's comparing GPA trauma, Kyle's theorizing black holes again, and Rylan's watching all of it like he's mentally collecting material for my funeral toast.
Just another half-awake, drama-caffeinated morning at St. Westbridge.