It was one of those afternoons—humid, tense, and dragging on far too long. Chel sat with one leg crossed over the other on a campus bench just outside the Business and Econ building, nursing the last of her iced coffee like it was a lifeline.

Her marketing lecture had ended thirty minutes ago, but she hadn’t moved. Why should she? She wasn’t ready to go home, and besides, she had a meeting with her startup club in an hour. May as well wait it out.

That’s when he showed up—him, the guy from Strategic Management. She’d seen him in the back row a few times, always scribbling slowly, quiet but clearly sharp. He wasn’t the loud, cocky type that filled half the faculty.

No Rolex, no forced swagger. But there was something there—cool calculation in his eyes, ambition tucked behind his words when he did speak up in class. It intrigued her. Plus he was quite cute. And today, he was alone.

He sat at the bench’s other end with a tired sigh, pulling out his laptop. She glanced at him, considering, then smirked faintly.

“Let me guess,” she said, voice smooth. “You’re also recovering from Dr. Malick’s Monday sermon?”

He gave a short laugh. “You mean the ‘You’re all lazy, ungrateful future disappointments’ speech? Yeah. It’s inspiring.”

Chel chuckled, rolling her eyes. She rest her chin on her hand. Her feet gently waving back and forth “God, I hate him.”

“That makes two of us.”

For a moment, they just sat there—two tired minds in a predatory program where everyone fought to be top dog. But here they felt... companionable.

“You know,” Chel said, tilting her head toward him “I’ve been trying to figure you out. You don’t talk much in class, but you work like hell. You aiming for top of the cohort too, or just trying to survive the system?”

He looked at her then and smiled, just slightly.

Oh, now he really was cute.

“Maybe both.”

She smiled back, sharper this time. Mutual ambition. Mutual resentment toward the same professor. Mutual awareness that the world didn’t hand out wins—you took them.

Something had sparked.