I pushed open the door to my apartment, the familiar scent of my place wrapping around me, grounding me in a way that felt almost too comforting. But something was off today. The air felt heavier, charged, as if the calm I'd carried with me from last night was just a thin layer, barely holding together. The night with Kiel kept replaying in my mind, but there was something about it that felt… too easy. Too perfect. Almost like it wasn't meant to happen, like it couldn't be real.
The conversations we had seemed to echo in the quiet of my apartment, the kind of talks that people usually have after years of knowing each other, not just hours. Lying there beside him, wrapped in the warmth of his comforter, it felt effortless, like I'd known him far longer than I really had. We shared things that felt like they should stay buried, fears, dreams, things I hadn't admitted aloud in ages. It had been strangely easy to open up to him, too easy. But now, in the silence of my apartment, I couldn't help but question it. Was it real, or had I made it more than it was in my head?
I dropped my bag on the couch, still feeling the faint sensation of his touch on my skin, like an echo I couldn't quite shake off. The exhaustion from the night began to settle in, but it was a different kind of weariness, like my mind was running in circles, trying to make sense of everything. As I reached for my phone, I already knew something was off. That nagging sense in my gut only deepened when the screen lit up.
Thirty-three missed calls.
I groaned under my breath, already knowing most of them were from Riri, likely worried sick since I'd disappeared last night. I quickly shot her a message, promising I'd explain everything later, but as I scrolled through the notifications, I felt that familiar twist in my stomach. No texts from Kiel. Not one. The realization hit harder than I expected. All that time, all those conversations, and yet we hadn't even exchanged numbers. It felt absurd now. We'd shared something that should have been more substantial, more lasting, but in the end, it was just a fleeting moment, one that would likely vanish as quickly as it had appeared.
I stared at the screen for a long moment, the sinking feeling settling in. I wasn't used to this. Not knowing. Not having control over a situation. Not even having his number felt like a kind of recklessness I didn't normally allow myself. But there it was—no follow-up, no second thoughts from him. And maybe that was fine. Maybe that was how it was supposed to be.
A part of me wanted to kick myself for not being more proactive, but another part of me was already rationalizing it. What if he was already moving on? What if the night had been exactly what it seemed—a perfect, singular experience that didn't need a follow-up? I'd done this before, moved on quickly, kept things light, detached. Maybe I could do the same.
But the silence in the room seemed to stretch longer, heavier. I exhaled slowly, trying to shake the thoughts. "Get a grip, Keiyi," I muttered to myself, the words coming out more to convince myself than anything else. But I knew it wouldn't be that easy. I wasn't the type to just forget something like this, not yet.
I tossed my phone onto the couch, fighting the urge to check it again. The uncertainty was clawing at me now, the kind of feeling I wasn't used to. I wasn't supposed to care this much about something so temporary. I wasn't supposed to need the closure or the reassurance that things were okay. But as much as I told myself it didn't matter, I knew better.
Part of me wanted to push everything aside, keep going like nothing happened, but there was another part of me—the one that craved the thrill of it all. The spontaneity, the unexpected connection, the chemistry that had been so easy and effortless. I couldn't deny it, even if I tried.
I wasn't sure whether I should feel excited or frustrated, but I knew one thing for certain: Kiel was going to be in my thoughts for a while. Whether I liked it or not, that night had carved a small, unexpected space in my mind, and now I was left wondering whether it was worth it—or if it was just another moment I'd learn to let go of.
___________________________
Later that evening, I was unpacking my groceries in the quiet solitude of my apartment when I heard the familiar knock on the door. I didn't need to check the peephole to know who it was—Riri had a knack for showing up uninvited, always with that gleam in her eye that signaled she was about to stir something up.
I opened the door, and there she was—hair slightly tousled, dressed in a crop top and jeans that fit her perfectly, the kind of outfit that made her look like she knew something I didn't. "Hey, sis," she greeted, stepping inside before I could say anything.
"Hey, Riri," I replied, rolling my eyes but managing a smile. "What's up?"
She shrugged casually, but her eyes told a different story. There was that playful gleam, the one that meant she had something on her mind. "Just catching up," she said, sinking into my couch with a smug little grin that never boded well. "So, how was your night after I left you at the club?"
I stiffened slightly but kept my expression neutral. "It was… fine," I said, trying to sound indifferent. But even I could hear the uncertainty in my voice. Was it just fine? Or was it more than that? The last twenty-four hours had been a blur, and I wasn't sure how to unpack it all.
Riri raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. "Really? Because I distinctly remember you disappearing into the crowd with a tall, tattooed guy...?"
I sighed inwardly. "Yeah, Kiel. We just… talked. It wasn't like that," I said, trying to brush it off. But even as the words left my mouth, I knew I was lying to myself. It hadn't just been talking. There had been something else, something I wasn't ready to admit yet.
Her gaze sharpened, clearly entertained by my discomfort. "Oh really? Just talking?" she teased, voice dripping with curiosity. "Tell me more."
I leaned back, trying to appear unfazed, but my thoughts were already replaying the night. "After the club, he invited me to his place. Gave me the bed, even. We didn't sleep, though. We just… talked. About our lives, our families, our futures. It wasn't the usual hookup nonsense. It felt real, like we were actually connecting."
Riri's teasing expression softened slightly, the slyness replaced by something more understanding. "Sounds like you actually connected," she said quietly.
"Yeah," I replied, almost absentmindedly. The memory of his eyes, his smile, his presence—it was all still there, lingering. "It felt different. Like we understood each other in a way most people don't."
She tilted her head, studying me, clearly reading the unspoken words hanging between us. "Did you get his number?"
That question hit like a slap to the face. I bit my lip, the momentary embarrassment sharp. "No," I said, voice quieter than I intended. "I didn't. I... forgot. It all happened so fast."
Riri's eyes widened in disbelief. "You didn't get his number? Are you serious?" she asked, mockery creeping into her tone. "You meet a guy like that, and you don't even think to exchange numbers?"
I slouched back into the couch, feeling her judgment settle over me. "I didn't want to come off too strong. You know how guys are at clubs. They're not looking for anything serious, and I wasn't either."
"Did he want something serious?" Riri pressed, clearly enjoying my discomfort.
I paused, the question hanging in the air. Did he? Kiel had been different, but was he really that different? "No," I finally said. "It didn't feel like that. He didn't treat it like a hookup. It was just… real. We both wanted something more than just the usual. Something that mattered."
Riri's gaze softened, as though she was seeing something I wasn't ready to confront. "You're telling me you didn't feel that moment? That little spark when you both thought, 'This could be something?'"
I bit my lip, remembering the way he'd looked at me, how easy it had felt. How I hadn't felt that in a long time. "Maybe," I admitted quietly. "I don't know. I'm just not sure if it was real."
"Maybe?" Riri repeated, voice dripping with mockery. "Keiyi, you spent hours with him, had conversations that most people never have, and you didn't even ask for his number? You can't tell me that's nothing. You're already halfway in love with him, and you don't even have his number."
I groaned, sinking further into the couch. "I'm not in love with him, Riri. I just… I don't know. It was just one night."
She rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with exasperation. "Classic Keiyi, always overthinking things. Sometimes you make things harder than they need to be." Then her expression turned sly. "You do realize he's probably sitting somewhere wondering why you didn't get his number, right?"
I blinked, startled by the thought. "You really think so?"
Riri nodded confidently. "If he's into you, he's probably thinking the same thing. If you don't message him soon, someone else will. Guys like him? They don't stay single for too long."
The words hit harder than I expected. The idea of someone else swooping in was suddenly a lot more real than I cared to admit. But I wouldn't let myself chase after him, not yet. I wasn't desperate. Not yet.
Still, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that, for once, this wasn't just about a random fling. But I'd never let on that I cared. I never did.
____________
The next morning, I dragged myself into my business accountancy class, still tangled in the fog of a sleepless night and the strange ache of leaving Kiel's apartment. I told myself it was nothing—just one of those fleeting moments that didn't need to be analyzed. Just a memory, one that I'd someday look back on with indifference, a perfect night that would fade like everything else.
But the truth? It lingered. No matter how much I tried to dismiss it, something in me was waiting for a call, a message, something—anything—that could somehow bring us back together. The kind of thing that, deep down, I knew wasn't coming.
I sank into my usual seat, trying to focus on the lecture, but my mind kept drifting to Kiel. To the way we'd spent hours talking about our lives, our futures, and the space in between. His humor, the way he spoke so seriously about his future in accountancy, like he had it all figured out, while I sat there with my legal management degree and ambitions I hadn't even bothered to define yet. There was a certain truth to everything we'd shared. It felt... real.
But now, sitting under the harsh fluorescent lights of the classroom, it seemed like an illusion. A dream that didn't fit into the reality of my world.
The door creaked open, and my thoughts were interrupted. I glanced up, expecting nothing more than a random student walking in late. But then I saw him.
Kiel.
My heart stuttered in my chest. What was he doing here?
He stood at the front of the classroom, looking just as effortlessly cool as he had last night, though there was an almost shy, uncertain edge to his smile now. He scanned the room, and I could hardly believe my eyes. Was this some kind of joke?
The professor cleared his throat. "Everyone, this is Kiel Carter Alexander. He's joining us from Canada for a study exchange this semester, majoring in accountancy. Let's give him a warm welcome."
I heard the words, but they didn't fully register. My gaze locked on Kiel's, and I could see it in his eyes—the same shock, the same disbelief. His grin grew wider, and for a moment, everything else in the room faded. I felt the heat in my cheeks, but I forced myself to look away, to act like this was nothing, even as my pulse quickened.
When I finally looked back up, he was already walking toward me. He slid into the seat next to mine, his shoulder brushing against mine in that casual way that felt anything but casual. "Well," he whispered, his playful smirk doing something to my insides, "looks like we didn't need each other's numbers after all."
I let out a breathy laugh, my chest tight. "Guess the universe has a strange sense of humor," I murmured, keeping my voice steady even though everything inside me was buzzing. "But out of all places... an accountancy class?"
He chuckled, leaning just a bit closer. "Hey, I am an accountancy major, after all. This is my world." His gaze drifted over the room, taking in the sea of notebooks and textbooks with an almost amused expression. "Though I didn't expect to find you here."
The thrill his words sent through me was hard to ignore, but I masked it, a small smile tugging at my lips. "And I didn't expect to see you on my campus," I replied coolly, trying to maintain the control I prided myself on. How was this possible?
The professor started the lecture, but it was almost impossible to focus with Kiel sitting beside me, so close that I could smell his faint cologne. It was like the night had never ended, and the connection we'd shared felt as real now as it had back then.
Halfway through the lecture, we were asked to pair up for a class exercise. Kiel turned to me, already extending his hand with a grin that felt like a dare. "Partner?"
I glanced at him for a moment, masking the flutter in my chest, and took his hand. "Partner," I replied, voice smooth, even as my heart picked up speed.
_________________
The two of us moved to a table at the back of the room, setting up our notebooks and diving into the case study. It was a real-world scenario about ethical decision-making in finance—a topic that I usually regarded with the detached interest of someone who understood the complexities of law more than finance. But Kiel? He caught my attention. He wasn't just going through the motions. He approached the assignment with a focus and seriousness that showed he wasn't just here to coast through.
"So, you actually know your way around this stuff," I remarked, watching him scribble notes with a focused intensity.
He looked up, his lips curling into a smirk. "Believe it or not, I did come here to study. Though, I didn't expect to be explaining this to someone studying legal management. Aren't you supposed to be the one making sure finance people like me don't screw up?"
I smiled lightly, not missing a beat. "You'd think so. But law and finance overlap more than you might think. Ethics? That's something we all have to take seriously."
It was effortless for me to keep the conversation flowing. I knew how to use my words to guide things, to subtly assert control over the direction. Kiel had his strengths, but I had the upper hand when it came to seeing things from every angle, and I was keenly aware of it. We fell into a natural rhythm, with him explaining the financial aspects and me offering the legal perspective. What surprised me was how sharp he was, how easily he was able to dissect the case. It wasn't just knowledge; it was insight, and I could see that he wasn't as predictable as I first thought.
At one point, Kiel leaned back in his chair, folding his arms with that look I'd seen a few times now—the one where he seemed to be thinking something over. "You know," he said, his voice casual, "I never thought I'd be analyzing case studies in the Philippines, let alone with someone like you."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, though my tone was more intrigued than defensive.
His smirk softened into something thoughtful. "I don't know. It just feels... different. A thousand miles from home, and yet this feels like it's going to be one of those memories I'll keep."
I felt a flicker of something, but I kept my expression controlled. Whatever this was, whatever pull I felt toward him, I didn't let it sway me. I had enough self-awareness to know that things like this—unexpected connections—were best kept in check until I fully understood them.
The professor called for our attention, signaling it was time for the presentation. As always, my pulse steadied with anticipation rather than nerves. I was ready—ready to make this work, to demonstrate how well I could blend the legal and financial perspectives. It wasn't just about passing the assignment. It was about owning it.
We walked to the front together, the class's eyes on us. Kiel began, his voice calm and authoritative as he outlined the financial analysis. It was good—solid and well-reasoned—but I wasn't impressed. I could already see where he was going with it. What I appreciated, though, was how clearly he understood the numbers. He might not be in love with accountancy, but he wasn't careless about it either.
"We've analyzed the firm's financial strategies," he said, gesturing to our slides. "They're faced with a choice between short-term profits and a more sustainable approach that might cost them in the immediate term but give them stability in the long run." He pointed to a graph. "Their debt-to-equity ratio is high, which gives them leverage, but also a lot of risk. If they prioritize short-term gains, they're essentially gambling with their future."
He paused, then glanced at me, giving me the opening I needed. I didn't need to rush in, but I could feel the moment shift.
"From a legal standpoint," I began, addressing the room with the ease of someone who had mastered speaking in front of others, "there are legal frameworks designed to prevent firms from exploiting these high-risk opportunities without oversight. The penalties for ignoring ethical considerations aren't just financial—they're legal, and they can destroy a company's credibility. If the firm chooses unethical practices, they aren't just risking their profit margins; they're exposing themselves to serious legal ramifications."
I didn't waste words, didn't dwell on the obvious. I kept it sharp, calculated, because I knew how to make an impact with just a few carefully chosen points. I could see Kiel listening intently, his eyes fixed on me with a kind of silent acknowledgment that I didn't need to spell things out for him. We were in sync.
"As my partner pointed out," I continued, my voice steady, "the ripple effect of unethical practices is more than just legal fallout. It impacts employees, clients, the public image—things that go far beyond the bottom line. Legal penalties are the immediate consequence, but the long-term damage to the company's reputation and trust is much worse."
I could feel Kiel's gaze on me, but I didn't let it distract me. I kept my focus, explaining how the law wasn't just about compliance—it was about creating a sustainable environment where businesses could thrive while protecting the greater good.
Kiel took over for the final portion of our presentation, rounding out the analysis with his financial insights. "Ultimately, the firm's decision isn't just about maximizing profits," he said. "It's about the legacy they want to build. Ethical integrity isn't just a shield against risk; it can be a competitive advantage."
We wrapped up, and the professor nodded in approval. "That was an impressive presentation," he said. "Well-balanced and insightful. A skillful integration of finance and law. Well done."
Kiel and I exchanged a brief look, the unspoken understanding passing between us. It wasn't just a class assignment. We had blended our strengths seamlessly, creating something that felt purposeful, even a little... effortless.
As we returned to our seats, I couldn't help but feel a subtle thrill at how easily the presentation had come together. I wasn't just intelligent—I was precise, and I knew how to use that to my advantage. Kiel was good, but in this space? I was the one who had the edge.
"Not bad, partner," he whispered, leaning over with a knowing grin.
"Not bad yourself," I replied, keeping my smile controlled, though I could feel the flicker of satisfaction in my chest. This wasn't just about teamwork—it was about knowing how to work the dynamics, how to control the rhythm of things.
Kiel tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. "Think we'd make a good team?"
"I'd say we're off to a solid start," I replied, my tone as casual as I could make it. But inside, I felt the pulse of something more, something that wasn't just about the presentation. It was about the connection we'd created, the way our different skills seemed to align.
As the class went on, I couldn't ignore the quiet warmth of Kiel sitting beside me. I felt the familiar tug of control, the knowledge that I held the reins here, guiding this dynamic. The class ended, and we made our way out of the room side by side.
"Well," he said, hesitating for just a moment. "I don't know what you're up to later, but if you'd want to go over the next assignment together sometime, I'd be up for it."
I glanced at him, the thrill of the moment still fresh. "I'd like that," I said with a small, deliberate smile. "We make a good team, after all."
He grinned, clearly reassured. We lingered just a second longer, caught in the space between words, before parting ways. There was something in the air, unspoken, but understood.
I smiled to myself as I walked away. Whatever this was between Kiel and me, it was only the beginning. And I was in control of how it would unfold.