The blaring sound of my alarm clock ripped me out of a dream where I was swimming in a vat of iced coffee. I jolted upright like I'd been shot.
4:00 a.m.
"Ugh, kill me now."
My hand fumbled for the snooze button before I remembered why I even set the alarm, prep for the stupid morning shift at the campus café and maybe cram in some studying before class.
I rolled out of bed, tossed a scoop of rice in the cooker (because yes, a girl raised on carbs still needs her rice), and headed for the shower. Living in an apartment without your parents sounds like freedom—until you realize breakfast, bills, and literally everything else is on you.
Marie and Sely, my roommates, still weren't home. Typical. They had a habit of disappearing overnight, and I had a habit of worrying like some helicopter mom.
Just as I was brushing my teeth, the front door banged open like someone was breaking in.
"Surprise, idiot!" Marie's voice rang through the hallway. "Where's Ash? It's freaking four a.m.!"
I stuck my head out of the bathroom. "You just got home now? Do you want to get mugged or murdered? Or both?"
Sely was already in the kitchen, head in the fridge like she hadn't just risked her life wandering around at night. "Relax, Mom. We're fine."
I narrowed my eyes. "And where exactly were you two last night?"
Marie collapsed onto the couch, arms spread wide like she owned the place. "Crashing at Alcy's. It was late. Didn't feel like coming home. You know how it is."
"Would've been nice if you texted me so I didn't file a mental missing person's report," I muttered, retreating back into my room before I launched into a full lecture.
By the time I came out, the apartment smelled like instant noodles and soy sauce. Marie and Sely were actually cooking. I froze.
"Wow. You two voluntarily used the stove. What's the occasion? The apocalypse?"
Marie grinned, unapologetic. "Morning, Ash. How'd you sleep?"
"How'd I sleep? I didn't, because I thought my roommates were dead in a ditch somewhere," I muttered, grabbing a plate.
Breakfast was quiet, except for me glaring between bites of rice, half-suspecting Sely was hiding something. The girl's been vanishing a lot lately, and it's definitely not for study groups.
Later, Marie and I walked to school. Not because we're health nuts, but because we're broke and the bus pass fund has mysteriously turned into the "Starbucks and mascara" fund.
Halfway there, Sely gasped like she'd just seen a ghost. "Crap. My laptop!"
Marie frowned. "Isn't it at the apartment?"
Sely froze, eyes darting. "No. I left it at… somewhere. You guys go ahead. I'll, uh, call someone."
"Someone?" Marie and I exchanged a look, but neither of us pushed. Sely's version of "someone" always turned into a secret.
Classes blurred by. Hotel and Restaurant Management doesn't exactly overlap with any of my friends' majors, so I was on my own most of the day, neck-deep in lectures about table settings and food safety codes.
By 5 p.m., my phone buzzed with a text from Alcy.
Party at my place. My cousin's birthday. You're coming. Not optional.
Not so much an invitation as a threat. Classic Alcy.
When I got home, Marie and Sely were already dressed like they were auditioning for a music video—sparkly tops, full beat makeup, smoky eyes, heels I couldn't walk in even on my best day.
"Excuse me," I said, pointing dramatically. "Since when do you two party? You literally hate crowds."
Marie shrugged, slipping in her hoop earrings. "Special occasion. Also, free food. Duh."
Sely smirked at her reflection in the mirror. "Don't worry. I won't even drink. I have… other plans."
I gave her a suspicious look but didn't push. Instead, I tugged on my ripped black jeans, combat boots, and a fitted crop top that said I'm trying but not that hard. I wasn't about to be the boring roommate who stayed home watching reruns.
Alcy's apartment was packed. I mean, wall-to-wall, can't-hear-your-own-thoughts, football-players-spilling-beer kind of packed.
"Yo, you're alive!" a deep voice boomed the second we stepped in.
I turned just in time to see Andrew—Alcy's cousin, birthday boy, and apparently the human embodiment of chaos—high-fiving Sely like they were childhood besties. She laughed, smacking his arm like she hadn't been sneaking around all week.
I sidled up to Alcy. "You didn't mention this was a full-blown frat party. Half the bulldogs is here."
Alcy shrugged, sipping his soda like none of this mattered. "Andrew's friends. Just roll with it."
So we rolled with it. There was food, music loud enough to make my eardrums consider early retirement, and Eve—our other friend, a IT major all the way from Princeton—showed up halfway through. She immediately started flirting with some tall, brooding guy while loudly insisting she was so loyal to her boyfriend. Typical Eve move.
And then—
"Phin! You're late!" someone yelled from the living room.
My blood ran cold. That voice.
No. No. No.
Andrew's next words were the nail in the coffin: "Oh, look who it is! Sergie Villarreal! Ash's almost-boyfriend back in the day!"
The universe really hates me.
Of course it was him. The one guy I swore I'd never run into again. The guy I maybe—okay, definitely—still hadn't gotten over, no matter how many times I told myself otherwise.
I made a beeline for the corner couch, glued to my phone like my life depended on it. No drinks, no chit-chat. Just me, scrolling through Instagram like I was waiting for a helicopter evacuation.
Until a hand closed around my arm.
I nearly screamed—until I looked up.
Sergie.
Holy crap, he looked better than I remembered. Unfairly good. Taller, sharper jawline, that easy half-smile that used to make me forget how to breathe.
"Hey," he said, casual as if we hadn't ghosted each other two years ago. "How are you?"
My brain short-circuited. "Uh… fine."
His gaze softened. "You and Caelum still together?"
Straight to the ex talk, huh? "No. Broke up after graduation."
He smiled faintly, almost to himself. "Good."
Good. Good? What's that supposed to mean?
We ended up talking—or more accurately, he talked while I tried to act unbothered and subtly checked if my eyeliner had smudged. He asked about school, life, mutual friends. I gave short answers, careful not to sound like I cared.
Spoiler. I cared!!
The doorbell rang at some point, and Sely walked back through the gate with a guy trailing behind her. Not Andrew. Definitely not one of our friends. Older, hot, wearing a watch that probably cost more than my tuition. He look like those korean guys in kdrama, the priest in this series called Island tho he lowkey has a western touch. They exchanged a few hushed words by the porch before he slipped back into his car and drove off.
Sergie arched a brow, watching the scene. "Who was that?"
I shrugged. "No clue. Sely's got her secrets these days."
Which was true. And judging by the way she immediately pretended nothing happened, it wasn't the kind of secret she planned to share.
Before I could make another graceful exit (sprint home in embarrassment), Sergie leaned closer, grinning.
"By the way… what's your Instagram? You're never on Facebook anymore."
"@AshLeal," I muttered, pretending to scroll through my phone like this wasn't giving me heart palpitations.
"Cool. I'll follow you. You better follow me back."
I rolled my eyes. "What, trying to pad your follower count?"
He smirked, and for a split second, I hated how good he looked good, no scratched that! dashingly handsome doing it. "Nah. Just yours I care about."
Did he seriously just—? Ugh.
"Ash! We're leaving!" Marie's voice cut through the tension.
I stood, exhaling like I'd been holding my breath for an hour. "Guess that's my cue. Bye, Sergie."
"Bye," he said, his smile edging into something I couldn't quite read. "Until we meet again."
That night, I tossed and turned like a rotisserie chicken, my brain refusing to shut off.
At 3:15 a.m., I was still awake, scrolling through Instagram when a notification popped up:
@SergieVillarreal followed you.
Before my rational brain could intervene, my thumb betrayed me. Follow back.
Two seconds later, another buzz.
A DM.
Sergie.
Hey, I need to interview someone for my thesis. Can we meet?
Right. Totally just for school. Totally not a trap.
…Right?