NICK POV:
The first time she bumped into me, I couldn't believe the nerve. She walked around like she owned the place, eyes forward, oblivious to the people around her—or maybe she just didn't care. I was about to give her a piece of my mind when she collided with me.
How dare she.
But then, something unexpected happened. The moment she was in my arms, her scent hit me. Sweet and intoxicating, like nothing I had ever encountered before. It wasn't just any perfume. It was something more natural, something that lingered in the air around her. I couldn't place it, but it was maddening in its simplicity.
For a second, I forgot why I was even annoyed. My grip tightened around her before I realized what I was doing, and she looked up at me, wide-eyed and frozen. That look in her eyes, a mix of embarrassment and defiance, only made me more curious.
No one dared to touch me, to get in my way like that, but she did—and without a second thought. I should've been furious, humiliated even, but instead, I felt something else.
Intrigue.
She wasn't like the others. Most girls would have tried to use the moment to get closer to me. But not her. She barely said a word, didn't even try to flirt. She just stood there, like she didn't care who I was, or worse—like she thought I wasn't worth her time.
Then reality hit me, and I shoved her away, hard enough to put distance between us. I shouldn't have called her a bitch or said she threw herself at me, but those were the first things that came to mind. It's what most girls do, after all—cling to me for attention, trying to make something out of nothing. They all wanted to be seen with Nick. They wanted to be around my influence, my name.
And she was a girl, after all.
But even as the words left my mouth, I knew something was different about her. She didn't flinch. She didn't blush or try to explain herself. She just stared back, her eyes burning with anger—real anger. Not the fake kind people put on when they think they've been slighted.
No. She was furious. And somehow, that only made me more intrigued.
Still, I couldn't let it show. I had an image to maintain, and the last thing I needed was anyone thinking some random girl could just bump into me and walk away unscathed. So I did what I do best—shut her down with a few cruel words. It usually worked, made them retreat, apologize, or cry. But not her.
I was relieved when Eric called my name, pulling me away from the situation. I wasn't sure how that would have ended if he hadn't stepped in. But I didn't expect her—of all people—to have the nerve to talk back at me. And she called me ugly.
Ugly.
No one had ever called me that. Not even hinted at it. My whole life, I've been told how attractive I am—by girls, by friends, by strangers. It's like a rule of the universe, and then this girl comes out of nowhere, and throwing that word in my face.
Did she really think I was ugly? Or was she just saying it to get under my skin? Who the hell does she think she is, anyway?
I couldn't get it out of my head, though. Her words stung . It wasn't just the insult; it was the fact that she didn't care who I was. She looked at me like I wasn't Nick, the guy everyone wanted.
Like I was just... some guy.
Who is she?
The second time I saw her, she was with Eric. I hadn't been paying much attention to her before, too caught up in my own irritation. But then Eric complimented her, saying she was cute. It caught me off guard, pulling my focus to her for the first time.
And damn, he was right. She really was cute. Her eyes sparkled with a kind of mischief, mystery and her nose sat perfectly on her face, giving her a touch of innocence. Those cheeks—just a bit chubby—, making me wish I could reach out and pinch them. . And her lips- God They looked soft, sweet, almost tender, like they were made for kisses, so inviting.
Her golden hair cascaded beautifully over her shoulders, framing her face in a way that made her look effortlessly stunning. I found myself staring, captivated, as a confusing mix of admiration and irritation washed over me. Why was I even feeling this way about her?
I felt a rush of confusion wash over me. How could I have missed this? All I'd seen before was her defiance, the anger. But now, standing there next to Eric, she was more than just a girl who'd dared to challenge me. She was someone who could ignite something inside me that I didn't even know was there.
She noticed the way I looked at her. The moment our eyes locked, I knew she saw something in me—something I didn't want her to see. For a split second, I faltered, caught in those eyes that sparkled with a mix of defiance and something deeper. But I wouldn't let her win.
Her beauty wouldn't distract me. I reminded myself who she probably was—just like the others. By now, she surely knew who I was. She had to. And like every other girl, I was certain she wanted me by her side, not for me, but for what I could give her. Power, attention, status.
The thought angered me, and the walls I'd built around myself hardened. No way was I going to let her play me. I'd tell her exactly what I thought—right to her face. I'd let her know I saw through her act. That she was just like all the others.
No matter how captivating she looked, she wouldn't get to me.
The moment the words left my mouth—"you just wanted my attention"—I regretted it. Instantly, I could see the change in her demeanor. Her expression darkened, her eyes blazing with a fury I hadn't anticipated. It was as if I'd struck a match to something already smoldering inside her. She looked like she was going to explode any second.
Her fists clenched tightly, and I could tell she was struggling to contain her anger. I had definitely crossed the line this time. No girl had ever looked at me like that—like she wanted to tear me apart. Most would have been hurt or backed down, but not her. There was a fire in her that I hadn't expected.
Before I could even react—before I could say something to diffuse the situation, or maybe apologize—I felt a sharp, stinging pain on the side of my face. I didn't even see it coming. The slap was quick and vicious, and I stood there, stunned.
The next thing I knew, she was storming off, moving so fast she was practically out of sight before I could register what had just happened. I had never been left speechless like this, and it hit me harder than I wanted to admit.
She wore a beautiful dress that hugged her curves perfectly, her hair tied in a sleek ponytail that framed her face. I couldn't help but stare, completely captivated by her beauty. Every detail about her seemed effortless, yet striking. It was like she belonged in a different world, one that was far more composed than the mess I'd made earlier.
For a moment, I considered saying something, but I stopped myself. What could I even say that wouldn't upset her again? After everything, I was afraid I'd just make it worse. She'd had enough for one day, and I didn't want to be the one to push her over the edge again.
I hoped Eric would break the silence. Maybe he'd steer the conversation, say something lighthearted to keep things from getting tense. All I knew was that I couldn't handle another moment of her anger. Not right now.
I woke up drenched in sweat, my body burning with a high fever, the chill of a severe cold clinging to me. Despite feeling like I'd been hit by a truck, all I could think about was seeing Justine again. I hadn't been able to get her out of my mind all night. Her fiery glare, the way her eyes had flashed when she slapped me—it was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. No one had ever stood up to me like that.
I tried to shake off the fever, determined to go to class. Maybe, just maybe, I'd run into her. But Eric, always the voice of reason, insisted I stay in bed. I wasn't in the mood to argue, but I wasn't going to let this keep me from seeing her.
"I'll go," I said, starting to get up, but Eric blocked my way. "You need to rest," he said firmly.
I was ready to brush him off until he smirked and said, "If you stay in bed, I'll give you whatever you want."
I paused. Whatever I wanted? My mind immediately raced back to Justine. What did I want? To figure her out? To see if she was really different from all the others? Maybe I just wanted another chance to see if she'd slap me again, if she'd make my blood race like that one more time. Reluctantly, I gave in, sinking back into my pillow.
"I want to see Justine," I said, my voice low but insistent, turning to Eric as I lay back in bed.
He raised an eyebrow, pausing for a moment as if trying to read my thoughts. "Justine?" he repeated, clearly surprised. "Why do you want to see her?"
I hesitated for a second, not really sure how to explain it myself. "There's something about her..." I trailed off, feeling the weight of my own confusion. "I can't put my finger on it, but she's different. You've noticed how fierce she is, haven't you? The way she talks to me... no one's ever dared to speak to me like that."
Eric's expression shifted slightly, curiosity creeping in as he listened.
"She's... a mystery," I continued, my voice softening with a strange sense of awe. "Every girl I've ever met has been predictable, always after the same thing—attention, status. But Justine? She's not like them. She doesn't want anything from me, and that... it gets under my skin. I need to understand her. I want to know what makes her so... fierce."
I looked at Eric, who was still watching me, his lips curving into a small smirk. "And you think seeing her now will solve that mystery?"
I shrugged, feeling restless. "Maybe. Or maybe I just want to see if she'll surprise me again. Either way, I need to talk to her."
"Well, if that's what you want, then I'll go get her," Eric said, his tone teasing but with a hint of caution. He stood up, brushing off his shirt before giving me a pointed look. "But seriously, Nick, don't be too hard on her again. She's not like the others, and she's already slapped you once."
I smirked, but Eric's expression remained serious as he continued. "You have a way of pushing people past their limit, you know. Not everyone is going to take it, especially not someone like her. She's fiercer than you think. You push her too hard this time, and you might get more than a slap."
His words lingered in the air, and for a moment, I wondered if he was right. Justine wasn't someone I could predict. The slap had caught me off guard—what else was she capable of?
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, waving him off. But as he walked out of the room, a part of me knew I should tread carefully.
The boys' dorm was lavish and spacious, rivaling our own, but Nick's room stood out even more. It was entirely his, and the elegance of it was striking. The bed was large and inviting, draped in luxurious linens. A plush couch sat opposite a massive TV, and a sleek coffee table anchored the center of the room. In one corner, a mini fridge beckoned, stocked with drinks and snacks. Everything was meticulously arranged, exuding an air of sophistication. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy; his room was a reflection of his status, and I found myself wondering what it would be like to live in such luxury.