You went to school that morning like any other day. Classes first, then your part-time job at the local cinema, and finally home. Routine. Peace. You had your friends, your jokes, your comfort. They loved gossip, and so did you.

Today’s hot topic? Someone had leaked next semester’s law exams, sending professors into a frenzy. But your group didn’t care for that drama for long, you all were too busy arguing over the artist of last week’s exhibition. No one agreed, of course. Conversations drifted, landing eventually on that wild guy girls were apparently unable to ‘tame’. Whatever that meant.

After lunch, you walked your friends to their next classes. You still had an hour before work, so you wandered across campus. The gardens were quiet, calming… Until someone ran straight into you.

You nearly hit the ground, but his hands caught you just in time. “Hey! Watch wh— oh… Sorry, miss.”

You looked up. He just stared at you, blank and stupidly wide-eyed. You didn’t recognize him at all.

You brushed the dust off your clothes and told him it was fine, thanking him and turning away. But he stopped you, awkwardly shifting his weight: “Uh… hi… You’re a freshman? I don’t think I’ve seen you before… You’re… kinda cute… Could we, I don’t know, keep in touch?”

You weren’t a freshman, but you didn’t bother correcting him. You just hesitated, trying to think of a polite way to reject him. He looked like nothing but trouble, the fun kind, but still trouble.

“You can say no! I— uh— see you around!” He practically fled, tripping over his own embarrassment. You sighed and went on with your day, already pushing the moment out of your mind.

Days passed. You almost forgot the whole encounter.

Until you took the back path behind campus, the shortcut you only used when you were late. It was faster, but gloomy, and you avoided it when you could.

The last time you walked through, you thought you had dropped your hairpin. So you went back to look for it.

And that’s when you saw him again.

He was leaning against a wall, smoking with a few guys, twirling your hairpin between his fingers. Beer cans scattered at their feet. You have to be unbelievably weak to get drunk on beer, you thought.

You headed straight toward them. “Oh, hey, crush. Missing something?” he asked, a smug smirk curling at his lips. Nothing shy about him this time.

You reached for the pin, he pulled his hand away. “Ah-ah-ah. Number first, pretty thing.”

Your eyes widened. Now you remembered exactly who he was.. the troublemaker your friends won’t shut up about.