The canteen echoed with the sound of laughter, gossip, and the occasional hiss of boiling milk. The vibe was electric. Freshers and seniors mingled, cliques formed, couples giggled in corners, and the aroma of samosas and energy drinks lingered in the air.
Blick, dressed in his usual not-so-fancy black shirt and slim-fit jeans, stood quietly near the snack counter. He wasn't flashy, but he had a certain calm magnetism — dark, messy hair, sharp jawline, and lean, defined shoulders that peeked subtly through his shirt. A cold drink in hand, he glanced around, trying not to look lost, but definitely feeling like a guest at someone else's party.
His new friend, Zayen, a tall, sharp-featured guy with naturally confident swagger and a girlfriend who could melt glaciers, stood next to him grinning.
"You'll get used to the chaos," Zayen said, nudging him. "This canteen is a circus, and we're the monkeys."
Blick gave a nervous smile. "Then who are the lions?"
Zayen looked across the room and raised an eyebrow. "Them."
A loud cheer erupted from the girls' corner, and in walked Kiara — the girl who had spilled tea on Blick the day before. She was radiant in a pastel crop top, hugging her high-waisted jeans in a way that made heads turn. But it wasn't just her beauty. It was how she walked — like the canteen was her runway, and she was its unapologetic queen.
Behind her were her friends — four girls, all equally magnetic in their own ways. One was petite with a chubby, dimpled face and a cheeky grin. Another was tall, tanned, and wore a dress that shimmered just a little too much under the canteen's moody lights. All of them looked like they stepped out of a K-drama crossed with a Vogue cover.
As they claimed a table and ordered their drinks — cold coffees, energy cans, and, oddly, a hot tea — one of Kiara's friends peeked over and whispered something.
"Isn't that the guy you spilled tea on yesterday?"
Kiara didn't look up. "I don't remember," she said, biting her straw.
"Oh, come on, the one with those accidently sexy abs," the chubby-faced girl teased. "You literally baptized him in chai."
Kiara glanced over subtly. Blick stood by the sink, washing his hands, and just then, a junior boy nearby accidentally turned the water tap too strong. A splash hit Blick's shirt again. The black cotton stuck to his torso, outlining his abs like a sculpture. His jaw clenched instinctively.
Time paused.
The girls at Kiara's table leaned slightly forward. Conversations dulled. One of them let out a soft, "Damn."
Kiara found herself holding her cup tighter. Not because of the heat. Her eyes locked onto Blick's frame, his wet shirt now clinging to his lean muscle like wrapping on a forbidden gift.
Zayen turned to him and chuckled. "You should start charging for this. You're giving away fanservice for free."
Blick blushed, rubbing his neck. "Wasn't intentional…"
Just then, Kiara stood up and slowly walked toward him. The chattering around her dimmed as if even the walls leaned in to listen.
Blick, still drying his hands, sensed someone approaching. He turned, and there she was.
"Hey," she said casually, folding her arms.
"Uh… hi," Blick responded, clearly caught off-guard.
"Still mad about the tea thing?" she asked.
"No, no. My shirt just needed a reason to feel special again."
Kiara smirked. "You're funny. Didn't expect that."
Before he could respond, she turned and walked back to her seat. Blick watched her go, his heart pacing slightly. She had that rare effect — like caffeine mixed with danger.
As he rejoined Zayen, the friend elbowed him. "Bro… did she just flirt with you?"
"I don't know. I think she threatened me… cutely."
They laughed.
Just then, the class rep stood on a table and shouted, "FRESHERS PARTY ANNOUNCEMENT! Tomorrow! Ramp walk, dance, and fun. Pair up! 70% girls, so grab your partners before someone else does!"
The canteen erupted. Cheers, gasps, whispers, giggles.
Zayen turned to Blick. "You dancing?"
Blick smirked. "It's one of my hobbies."
From Kiara's table, eyes were watching. She twirled her straw, pretending not to care.
Later, as Blick and Zayen got up to leave, Kiara also stood up, chatting with her friends. As fate would have it, she turned, tripped slightly over a chair leg, and with a small gasp, fell.
Without hesitation, Blick rushed forward and caught her just in time. His arms wrapped instinctively around her waist, pulling her in like a reflex. Her face was inches from his.
Time froze again.
Their eyes met — hers wide in shock, his unsure yet locked on hers. Her breath hitched as she realized where his hand landed — slightly lower than it should have, fingers unintentionally resting near the curve of her waist.
"Oopss…" Blick mumbled, quickly adjusting.
"Just hold my hand, not my ribs," she said, her cheeks turning red.
"I was just... saving your bones," he replied.
They both burst into awkward laughter. Nearby, a few girls giggled. Kiara's friends exchanged glances.
Zayen, never missing a beat, walked over. "What happened? Kiara, you okay?"
Kiara stood straight, brushing invisible dust off her pants. "I just slipped. No big deal."
One of her friends whispered, "Girl, you fell... in love."
Kiara ignored that.
But before she could leave, Blick offered a tissue. She smiled, took it, and added, "My dress is dirty now. You kind of owe me."
"How do I—"
"You can come help me clean it," she said slyly. "Just kidding. Maybe."
But she wasn't.
They walked together toward the restroom area, talking casually. Unbeknownst to them, a girl — quiet, with glasses and a phone in hand — lingered behind the corner, silently recording something.
She wasn't part of Kiara's circle. She was someone else's friend. Someone who had a reason to bring Blick down. Someone who didn't like how Kiara was smiling more around this new boy.
Back near the sink, Kiara pointed at a dusty corner behind the counter.
"Can you reach that?" she asked.
"Sure." Blick leaned over, stretching his hand behind a pipe.
Kiara watched, her eyes unintentionally dropping to the way his shirt lifted, revealing that subtle line between his lower abs and waistband. A line so forbidden yet inviting.
Suddenly, Blick's hand touched something sharp.
"Ouch!"
Kiara gasped and instinctively grabbed his hand. Their fingers intertwined briefly, just long enough to notice the warmth.
And that's when they heard it — a faint click. Like a camera shutter.
They turned instantly.
"Who's there?" Blick asked.
Silence.
He rushed toward the sound but found nothing. Just an open corner.
Kiara stood still, her heart racing. "Was someone watching us?"
"I don't know. Maybe just wind."
"Wind doesn't click photos," she replied.
They exchanged a nervous glance.
On their way out of the restroom, the floor was slippery. As fate would play its drama again, Blick slipped, his foot losing grip.
"Whoa!"
He fell backward, accidentally pulling Kiara down with him. She landed squarely on top of him, her hair falling like a curtain around their faces. They both lay frozen.
"Uh…" Blick muttered, his breath caught.
Kiara, eyes wide, looked at how close their lips were. Her hand rested on his chest, feeling his heart thumping hard.
A beat passed.
Another.
Then — footsteps.
Kiara sprang up.
As they exited, a group of students was passing by. Conversations halted for a second as everyone noticed the two coming out of the restroom together.
Wet shirt. Flushed faces. Shared awkwardness.
"Oh my God," someone whispered.
"Are they dating already?"
Kiara walked ahead quickly. Blick followed, feeling every stare like a laser.
Back at her table, her friends grilled her.
"What happened?"
"Why were you in there so long?"
"Did you finally confess?"
Kiara just sighed. "Can't a girl clean her dress without turning into a gossip headline?"
Across the campus, a boy watched the video on a phone screen — the clip of Blick holding Kiara's hand. He wasn't smiling. He handed the phone back to the girl with glasses.
"This guy's rising too fast," the boy said. "Let's make sure he doesn't stay on top."
To be continued...