It happened right after lunch.
And by "lunch," I an ten minutes of pretending not to panic while Celestia hijacked my tray, my space, and possibly my future. The cafeteria had been a fishbowl of tension, and I was the flailing goldfish with a shark sitting on my lap.
But it wasn’t until we stood to leave that the real problem arrived.
In the form of Ethan Drake.
Let tell you about Ethan.
Star forward. Abs for days. Dad owns half of downtown. Girls write fanfics about his jawline. The kind of guy who thinks deodorant is optional because he’s rich enough to get away with it.
I was halfway to the door when I felt it — that little bump on the shoulder. Not accidental. The "oops I’m asserting dominance" kind.
"Yo," Ethan said, loud enough for the entire room to hear. "You lost, ani boy?"
I didn’t answer. I never did. The rule with guys like Ethan is: stay quiet, stay small, stay forgettable.
But Celestia?
Yeah. No.
She stepped between us.
High heels, perfect posture, arms folded like a queen surveying her kingdom of peasants.
"You got a problem?" she said, voice flat and bored.
Ethan blinked. "What?"
She took a step forward. "You touched him."
I froze.
He looked confused. "I an, yeah, I was just ssing—"
> "Do you want your hand broken?"
The room went dead silent.
Ethan laughed, but it was nervous. "Relax. I was just kidding."
Celestia didn’t laugh.
She tilted her head, and for a second — just a second — I saw it.
That edge.
That yandere switchblade behind her pretty eyes.
"I don’t like people touching my things," she said.
My things?
Before I could open my mouth to correct her, she took Ethan’s soda from his tray and poured it over his head.
The cafeteria lost it.
People gasped. Phones ca out. Ethan just stood there, dripping Diet Coke and disbelief.
Then he looked at .
"You’re dead, nerd."
He took a step forward—
Celestia didn’t flinch.
She smiled.
Took off one earring.
And behind her, two huge dudes in suits appeared. Where? How? No idea. They looked like bodyguards pulled straight from a Bond movie.
"Try it," she said softly.
Ethan froze, everyone froze.
He backed off.
I didn’t know what just happened. Only that it was the first ti in my college life that a jock looked ready to kick my ass... and didn’t.
I wasn’t just invisible anymore.
I was untouchable.
Because of her.
Because of whatever the hell this was becoming.
---
Outside the cafeteria.
I tried to walk off. Get distance. Reset my brain.
She followed, again.
> "Kai."
"Nope."
> "Kai."
"Nope nope nope."
> "You forgot dessert."
"I forgot sanity."
We reached the parking lot. And that’s when I saw it.
Her car.
Correction: her Rolls-Royce Phantom, matte black, purring like it ate Teslas for breakfast.
A chauffeur stood waiting, straight-backed and terrifying. He nodded at her. "Miss Moreau."
"Thanks, Jensen," she said, eyes still on . "He’ll be joining ."
"Nope." I started backing away. "Hard pass. I walk."
She blinked. "You’d rather walk? In this heat?"
"Yes."
> "Alone?"
"Preferably."
She stepped closer. Her voice changed — softer, uncertain.
> "...You don’t want to be near ?"
I paused. Sothing in her tone made stop.
Her eyes shimred, and for a terrifying second...
She looked genuinely hurt.
It didn’t make sense. Not from her. Not from her.
She whispered, "Is it because I’m too much?"
I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "No. It’s because you’re everything, and I’m just trying to survive econ."
She smiled a little.
Not smug, not bratty, just... real.
I was screwed.
"Fine," I muttered. "One ride. One."
She lit up like I’d proposed.
---
Inside the car, the interior looked like a private jet. Black leather. Champagne bar. Ambient lighting. Probably had better Wi-Fi than my apartnt.
She slid in across from , crossed her legs, and stared.
Not blinking. Not speaking.
Just watching.
"So," she said eventually. "Why did you help ?"
"You looked cold."
> "That’s it?"
"Yes."
> "...That’s the worst reason ever."
"Glad we agree."
She studied , tilting her head. "You don’t want anything from ?"
"Peace."
She leaned forward. "What if I offered sothing else?"
"Still peace."
She smirked. "Liar."
I didn’t answer. Because maybe part of was lying. But the other part?
The part that rembered her switching moods like knives?
Yeah, that part wanted to bail out of the moving car.
"So what now?" I asked.
She looked at like it was obvious.
"Now you belong to ."
I laughed.
She didn’t.
And in that mont, I realized —
She wasn’t kidding.
Not even a little.
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