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"Hi, buddy," Jason said cheerfully as he approached Zamiel.
To anyone else, Zamiel rarely smiled. Even his own mother rarely saw his expressions soften. But Jason was an exception. He was Zamiel's best friend, a bond forged since childhood. They knew each other's secrets—every strength, every flaw.
Jason casually draped his arm around Zamiel's neck, steering him towards the bus waiting to take them to the airport.
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10 Hours Later
The plane landed at Great Britain Airport, and the students began disembarking, their excitement mingling with exhaustion. They boarded another bus to take them to the hotel.
By the time they arrived, the long journey had drained everyone. Mrs. Smith gave clear instructions: the boys and girls were to separate into designated rooms. With that, the students dispersed for the night, eager to rest.
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The Next Morning
The sharp buzz of alarms echoed through the rooms, waking everyone. Mrs. Smith sent a text to each student detailing the plans and topics for their outing.
Everyone hurried to freshen up. However, Zamiel and Jason, who preferred privacy, decided against using the crowded bathrooms. Instead, they approached the hotel receptionist to inquire about a vacant room. Finding one, they paid the necessary fee and went upstairs.
Jason went first, taking his time in the bathroom. Once done, he dressed meticulously: a black trouser paired with a lemon-green shirt, and his signature black, expensive wristwatch. After ensuring he looked perfect, Jason left the room.
Meanwhile, Zamiel, now in the bathroom, had no idea his friend had already exited.
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Hazel's POV
I had gone out to buy a pad for myself—I had just started my period—but in my rush, I forgot to check my room number.
Returning to the hotel, I felt a wave of confusion. I stood in the hallway, clueless. Then, an idea struck me: if I had forgotten to lock my door when I left, then my room should still be unlocked.
After walking around and trying various doors, I finally found one that was open. Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived.
The moment I stepped inside, disappointment settled in. This was not my room. But since it was unlocked, I thought maybe the occupant could help me figure out where I belonged.
I decided to wait, but before I could gather my thoughts, I heard the bathroom door creak open.
I froze, my breath catching in my throat.
Standing there, fresh out of the shower, was Zamiel.
His wet hair dripped water down his face, forming rivulets that traced his neck, chest, and down to his toned stomach. A white towel hung low around his waist. My gaze lingered—his sharp features, his dark nipples standing out against his chest. I could feel my face heating up.
Quickly, I raised my hand to cover my face, trying to act as though I had not seen anything. But in my flustered state, I forgot I was still holding the pad I had bought.
That was when Zamiel moved.
He walked toward me, his strides slow but purposeful. My pulse quickened. I thought he might stop in front of me, but he did not. He kept moving closer, forcing me to step back until the wall pressed against my back.
Leaning forward, he brought his face close to mine. I could feel his breath, warm and steady, as he spoke in a low voice.
"Why are you in my room?"
For a moment, I could not form words. My mind went blank. Finally, I stammered, "I... It was a mistake." My eyes were tightly shut, hoping the ground would swallow me whole.
Then came his next question, catching me completely off guard.
"Is that for me?"
My eyes snapped open, confused. Following his gaze, I realized he was looking at the pad in my hand.
Embarrassment hit me like a freight train. "What the f*!"** I muttered, biting my bottom lip in frustration—only to realize I had said it out loud.
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