Aria’s POV
———
The city streets blurred past me in a haze of honking horns and chattering crowds as the cab sped toward Inkwell University, my chest heaving like I’d just run a marathon. My hands gripped my knees, nails digging into my jeans, the sting of Ethan’s kiss still buzzing on my lips like a live wire. I was pissed. Oh, I was pissed and the pain twisting in my gut wasn’t just from my still-healing wrist. It was him. Always him. Ethan-freaking-Ramsey, turning my life into a dramatic soap opera I never signed up for.
I’d stormed out of his place like a hurricane, leaving behind a trail of shattered hopes and his stupid, pleading eyes. “I love you,” he’d said, like it was some magic spell to fix everything.
Yeah, right. As if love could erase the weeks of heartbreak, the sight of him with her, the way he’d ripped me apart and then waltzed back in with flowers and apologies like I’d just forgive and forget. Screw that. I was done. Done and yet, here I was, my heart hammering with a wild, fluttering ache I couldn’t kill, no matter how hard I tried.
The cab screeched to a stop outside my dorm, and I shoved the door open, tossing the driver a crumpled money without even counting the change. My sneakers hit the pavement hard, each step a thunderclap as I barreled toward the building, my mind a chaotic swirl of what just happened and why did he do that and oh my gosh, I left my groceries in his car. Yep, in my epic, rage-fueled exit, I’d forgotten the bags, the ones stuffed with ramen, pizza rolls, and Zianne’s dumb energy drinks sitting pretty in Ethan’s trunk. Perfect. Just perfect. I cursed under my breath, a string of colorful words that would’ve made Jiro proud, and shoved through the dorm’s front door.
The room hit me like a slap of chaos and coffee. Zianne stumbled out of the kitchen, her hair a wild mess, clutching a chipped mug like it was her lifeline. She was still in her pajamas, some ratty old band tee and shorts, her eyes bleary from just waking up, even though it was, like, 2 PM. Typical Zianne. She froze when she saw me, her gaze darting from my empty hands to my flushed, furious face.
“Uh… Aria?” she said, her voice all groggy confusion, tilting her head like a puzzled puppy. “Where’s the grocery? I thought you were hitting the city for groceries and errands. You look like you just took a walk around the block instead.”
I let out a groan so loud it could’ve rattled the windows, flinging myself onto the couch with all the drama of a reality TV star. The cushions squeaked under me as I sank in, my head tipping back, my good hand dragging through my hair. “Don’t. Even. Start,” I muttered, my voice a low growl of frustration. “It’s been a day, Zianne, and I’m not in the mood.”
She blinked, setting her coffee down with a clink, her confusion morphing into that nosy, best-friend radar she’s got dialed to eleven. “Okay, hold up. You went out for groceries, and now you’re back empty-handed, looking like you just fought a dragon and lost. What happened? Spill it, Aria, or I’m staging an intervention right here.”
I sighed, a long, theatrical huff that could’ve won me an Oscar, and stared at the ceiling like it might have the answers. “I forgot the groceries, okay? Left them in… someone’s car. It’s fine. I’ll deal with it later. Or never. Whatever.”
“Someone’s car?” Zianne’s voice shot up, sharp and suspicious, her bare feet padding closer as she loomed over me. “Who’s ‘someone’? Aria Grey, don’t you dare leave me hanging with that cryptic crap! Did you run into, like, a hot grocery store cashier or something? Give me details!”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My head was a storm of Ethan’s lips crashing into mine, his “I love you” echoing like a broken record, the way I’d bolted from his place in a cab without even grabbing my stuff. I just sat there, lost in it, my eyes glazing over as I replayed every heart-shattering second. The kiss had been fire, thrilling and wild, but it left me burned, and now I was drowning in the ashes.
Zianne opened her mouth to push because of course she would, but her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, loud and insistent, cutting through the tension like a knife. She frowned, glancing at me like I’d summoned it, and shuffled over to check it. Her brows knit as she read the screen, her lips parting in a little “huh?” that made my stomach twist.
“Uh… I’ll be right back,” she said, her voice weirdly cautious. “I'll be back in five minutes. Don’t move, okay? We’re not done here.”
Before I could argue, she was out the door, leaving me alone with my spiraling thoughts. I slumped deeper into the couch, my sneakers kicking at the floor, my mind racing. Ethan. That kiss. His stupid, desperate “I’m sorry.” Professpr Davies, blackmailing him, and forcing him to date her. It was too much... too big, too messy and I couldn’t untangle it. Did I believe him? Did I want to? My heart fluttered, warm and dumb, but my head screamed *no, don’t fall for it again. I was so pissed, so hurt, and yet… that tiny, traitorous part of me kept whispering what if he’s telling the truth?
The door swung open five minutes later, right on the dot, and Zianne burst back in, her arms loaded with...wait, what? My grocery bags. The ones I’d left in Ethan’s car. My jaw dropped, a cold jolt hitting me as I sat up fast, my voice sharp. “Where did you get those?”
She dumped them on the counter with a dramatic thud, her eyes wide and gleaming with that I’ve-got-the-tea look. “You’re not gonna believe this,” she said, her voice buzzing with suspense, like we were in some thriller drama. “Ethan just dropped them off. Texted me to meet him outside, handed me the bags, and bolted. Said you forgot them, and that was it, no explanation, no nothing. Just peeled out like a bat out of hell.”
My heart stopped, then kicked into overdrive, a wild, fluttering mess that made my chest ache. “Ethan?” I croaked, my voice cracking, disbelief and fury crashing together. “He was here? What the hell?”
Zianne spun on me, hands on her hips, her voice rising with every word. “That’s what I’m saying! What’s going on, Aria? Why were your groceries in his car? What happened out there? You’ve got that look, like you just saw a ghost or kissed one, and I’m betting on the second! Spill it, now!”
I stared at her, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, my brain scrambling for a lie, an excuse, anything to dodge this. But the bags sat there, mocking me, a big, fat reminder of Ethan’s car, his kiss, his “I love you” that still echoed in my skull. I couldn’t deal with it, not the groceries, not Zianne’s questions, not the storm raging inside me.
“Nothing happened,” I snapped, too fast, too loud, flopping back onto the couch and turning my face away. “I ran into him, that’s all. He offered me a ride, I forgot the bags. End of story. Can we drop it?”
Zianne’s eyes narrowed, her detective mode kicking into high gear, and she stalked closer, her voice dropping to a thrilling whisper. “Oh, no way, babe. That’s not ‘nothing.’ You’re red as a freaking tomato, and you’re avoiding my eyes like you just committed a crime. Did he say something? Do something? Come on, Aria, don’t leave me hanging in suspense here!”
I groaned, loud and dramatic, grabbing a pillow and smashing it over my face to muffle my frustration. “Zianne, I swear, it’s not a big deal! I’m just tired, okay? Can we talk about something else? Like… anything? Or how you owe me for dragging me into this grocery mess?”
She huffed, crossing her arms, but I could feel her staring, her curiosity burning a hole through the pillow. “Fine,” she said, her voice dripping with fake defeat, “but this isn’t over. You’re hiding something, and I’m gonna figure it out. Those groceries didn’t just magically end up with Professor Heartbreaker for no reason.”
I peeked out from under the pillow, my glare half-hearted but sharp. “Call him that again, and I’m burning your stash of energy drinks.”
She gasped, clutching her chest like I’d stabbed her. “You wouldn’t dare! Those are my lifeblood!”
“Then drop it,” I shot back, tossing the pillow aside and sitting up, my voice firm but shaky. “Seriously, Zianne. I’m not in the mood.”
She studied me, her eyes softening just a bit, and sighed, flopping onto the couch beside me. “Okay, okay, I’ll chill. For now. But you’re acting super weird, and I’m worried, alright? You’re my bestie, and I hate seeing you like this... all pissed and… lost.”
My throat tightened, her words hitting too close, and I looked away, my fingers picking at a loose thread on my jeans. “I’m fine,” I muttered, quieter now, the fight draining out of me. “Just… a lot on my mind.”
She didn’t push, thank God, just leaned her head on my shoulder, her warmth a small anchor in the chaos. “Well, I’m here when you’re ready to spill. And those groceries? We’re eating like queens tonight, thanks to your forgetful butt.”
I snorted, a tiny laugh slipping out despite the ache in my chest. “Yeah, whatever. You’re welcome, I guess.”
We sat there, the dorm quiet except for the hum of the fridge and the distant buzz of campus life outside. My mind wouldn’t shut up, though... Ethan’s kiss, his revelations, the groceries he’d chased me down to return. It was all too much, a thrilling, heart-shattering mess I couldn’t escape.
Zianne didn’t know. She couldn’t, not yet. I’d dodged her questions, changed the subject, but it was only a matter of time before she sniffed out the truth. She was too nosy, too good at reading me, and I was too cracked open to hide it forever.
For now, I let her ramble about something, nodding along as my thoughts spun wild and suspenseful. Ethan loved me. He’d kissed me. He wasn’t really with Professor Davies, not by choice. He said it was a blackmail, It sounded insane, like some stupid plot twist, but his eyes… those desperate, pleading eyes had burned with something real.
What now? Did I believe him? Could I forgive him? My heart fluttered, warm and dumb, whispering yes, but my head screamed no, don’t fall again. I was pissed, in pain, lost in this bittersweet tangle, and the groceries on the counter, just sitting there. It felt like a silent taunt, a piece of him I couldn’t shake.
I sank deeper into the couch, Zianne’s chatter fading into a hum, and let the storm rage on inside me. One thing was clear, this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. And whether I ran from it or faced it head-on, Ethan Ramsey wasn’t letting me go that easy.
Not yet.
———
The Sunday morning sun sneaks through the blinds, painting stripes across my bed, but I’m too groggy to care. My phone’s buzzing somewhere on the nightstand, a rude little alarm clock I didn’t ask for. I groan, rolling over, one arm flopping out to grab it without even opening my eyes. My fingers fumble, knocking over a half-empty water bottle before I snag the stupid thing. “Hello?” I mumble, voice thick with sleep, still half-dreaming about pizza and flying banners.
“Aria, can we talk, please? Just give me another chance. Let’s fix this.”
My eyes snap open, sleep vanishing like I’ve been dunked in ice water. That voice... deep, familiar, laced with a desperate edge that twists my gut. Ethan. My heart stumbles, panic clawing up my throat as I jerk upright, squinting at the caller ID. Yup, there it is in big, bold letters: Ethan Ramsey. I choke on a breath, my thumb slamming the end call button so fast I nearly drop the phone.
“What the actual heck?!” I yelp, tossing it onto the bed like it’s a live grenade. My chest heaves, my hands shaking as I glare at it. I told him to leave me alone. I said it loud and clear yesterday... don’t text me, don’t follow me, just let me go. What part of that doesn’t he get? Why is he doing this? I just wanted one peaceful day, one stupid Sunday morning to breathe, and he’s already ruined it. Thanks a lot, Ethan.
The phone buzzes again, a sharp little sting that makes me jump. A text this time. I groan, loud and dramatic, flopping back onto my pillows like I can hide from it. But my curiosity... dumb, nosy curiosity wins, and I snatch it up, swiping it open with a scowl.
Ethan (10:52 AM): I know you’re mad, but please hear me out. I can’t stop thinking about you.
“Ugh!” I chuck the phone onto the blanket, rubbing my face with both hands. “Seriously, Ethan? Leave me alone!” I mutter, my voice muffled and annoyed. Can’t stop thinking about me? Yeah, right. He had no problem ditching me for Professor Davies, kissing me out of nowhere, and now he’s blowing up my phone like some clingy ex. I’m so over this, except my stupid heart’s fluttering like there's a million of butterflies trap on it, and I hate it.
I swing my legs off the bed, ready to storm out and drown my drama in coffee, when I glance at Zianne’s side of the room. Her bed’s empty, neatly made, sheets tucked tight, no sign of her usual chaos. “Zianne?” I call, frowning as I shuffle to the door, still in my ratty sleep shirt and shorts. She’s probably raiding the kitchen, right? She’s always up to something.
But when I step into the living room, it’s not just Zianne. It’s a full-on invasion. Jiro and Troy are sprawled on the couch, being their usual gross, lovey-dovey selves. Jiro’s got his arm slung around Troy, who’s laughing at some dumb joke, their legs tangled like they’re glued together. In the kitchen, Zianne’s perched on the counter, swinging her legs, while Aiden flips pancakes and Arkin leans against the fridge, sipping coffee like he’s too cool for this madness.
They all freeze when they see me, heads snapping my way like I’m some alien crashing their party. “Good morning!” they chirp in unison, way too chipper for nearly 11 AM.
I blink, rubbing my eyes like I’m still dreaming. “Uh… what are you guys doing here? It’s Sunday morning. Don’t you have, like, lives?”
Zianne hops off the counter, her grin wide and sneaky as she bounds over. “Surprise! We’re having a squad brunch! I called everyone over because, uh…” She trails off, her eyes darting to the others like she’s passing the baton.
Jiro picks it up, untangling himself from Troy to lean forward, elbows on his knees. “Because you’ve been acting super weird, dude! Zianne told us about yesterday, leaving your groceries in Ethan’s car? What’s up with that? We’re here to get the tea!”
My stomach drops, and I shoot Zianne a glare that could melt steel. “Zianne! You told them? What happened to keeping secrets?”
She throws her hands up, all innocent and dramatic. “I can’t keep secrets when you’re moping around like a sad puppy! You came back yesterday all freaked out, no groceries, looking like you’d seen a ghost or kissed one! We’re worried, Aria!”
Aiden flips a pancake with a little too much flair, smirking over his shoulder. “Yeah, and I’m not letting you dodge this one. What’s the deal with Professor Heartbreaker? Spill it, or I’m burning your breakfast.”
Arkin nods, his chill vibe cutting through the chaos. “For real, Aria. You’ve been off since the hospital. We just wanna know what’s up.”
Troy chimes in, his voice soft but curious. “And why Ethan had your groceries. That’s, like, next-level weird.”
I groan, loud and theatrical, flopping onto the nearest chair like I’m auditioning for a drama queen crown. “Oh my gosh, you guys are the worst! Can’t I have one day without the Ethan interrogation? I told you, I ran into him, he gave me a ride, I forgot the bags. That’s it! End of story!”
Zianne plops down next to me, her eyes narrowing like she’s Sherlock Holmes. “Uh-uh, no way. You’re blushing like crazy, and you’ve got that twitchy thing going on. Something big happened yesterday, and you’re holding out on us!”
Jiro leans in, grinning like a kid with a secret. “Did he try something? Say something? Come on, Aria, we’re your crew! You can’t leave us hanging like this!”
I grab a throw pillow and chuck it at him, missing by a mile as he ducks, laughing. “Nothing happened, okay? I’m fine! Can we just eat pancakes and pretend yesterday was boring?”
Aiden slides a plate of golden, fluffy pancakes onto the table, his smirk sharp. “Not buying it, dude. You’re acting like you got caught in a chaos. Spill, or no syrup for you.”
I glare at him, snatching a pancake anyway and tearing into it with my hands like a savage. “You’re all annoying,” I mumble through a mouthful, dodging their stares. “I’m not talking about it. I need a break from all this Ethan drama. Can’t I just have one peaceful day?”
Zianne sighs, all fake and dramatic, flopping back in her chair. “Fine, be a mystery girl. But we know you’re hiding something juicy, and we’re gonna crack you eventually.”
Jiro waggles his eyebrows, stealing a pancake off my plate. “Yeah, and I’m still betting 200 pesos you’re crying over him by next week. You’re toast, Grey!”
I swat his hand away, laughing despite myself, a sharp, wild sound that cuts through my grumpy mood. “Keep dreaming, jerk! You’re buying me pizza when I win!”
Troy chuckles, leaning into Jiro with that quiet, lovey-dovey vibe that’s so gross but kinda cute. “You guys are nuts. I’m just here for the food.”
Arkin sips his coffee, all cool and calm, but his eyes twinkle with mischief. “Same, but I’m betting on Aria cracking by Wednesday. She’s got that ‘I’m secretly freaking out’ look.”
“Shut up!” I yelp, tossing a napkin at him, and it flutters uselessly to the floor as everyone cracks up. The room fills with their laughter, loud and messy and so them, pulling me out of my spiral for a hot second.
We dig into the pancakes, syrup dripping everywhere, Jiro and Troy play-fighting over the last piece while Zianne steals it, Aiden was eating peacefully beside me, Arkin roasting us all with his dry one-liners. It’s chaos, fun, the kind of morning that usually makes me forget everything else.
But not today. Ethan’s kiss lingers, a warm, thrilling ghost on my lips, and his recent message echoes in my head like a song I can’t turn off. Professor Davies blackmailing him? It’s crazy, too wild to believe, but those desperate eyes… they haunt me. I shove a bite of pancake in my mouth, chewing hard, trying to drown it out with sugar and squad vibes.
Zianne’s watching me, though, her eyes sharp over her coffee mug. She knows I’m holding back, knows yesterday wasn’t just some boring errand run. I dodge her stare, focusing on Jiro’s dumb story about tripping over Troy’s cleats, but my phone sits heavy in my pocket, that unread text from Ethan burning a hole through me.
I want to tell them. I do. Spill it all... the kiss, the blackmail, the way he begged me to give him a chance. But I can’t. Not yet. My head’s a mess, my heart’s a traitor, and I just need a break—a real one, not this fake “I’m fine” act I’m pulling.
“Yo, Aria!” Jiro snaps me back, waving a syrup, sticky hand in my face. “You’re zoning again! What’s with you today?”
I roll my eyes, shoving his hand away with a dramatic huff. “I’m just tired, okay? Give me a break, you pancake thief!”
They laugh, the sound bouncing around our tiny dorm, and I let it carry me, let it bury the drama for a little longer. I’ll deal with Ethan later. His texts, his kiss, his stupid, heart-shattering plead. For now, I’ve got my crew, a stack of pancakes, and a bet to win.
But deep down, that fluttery ache won’t quit, whispering what if, what if, what if, and I know this peace won’t last.
Not with Ethan out there, refusing to let me go.