It started on the bus.

You’d barely made it in time for the morning ride to campus, clutching your tote bag and coffee, the city still half asleep outside. The seats were already full, except for one—beside a guy with messy blonde hair and an unbothered air that practically screamed trouble. He was scrolling through his phone, music blasting so loudly through his earbuds that you could make out every word.

You hesitated, but the bus lurched forward, leaving you no choice but to sit. He glanced up, eyes sharp and amused, then gave a lazy grin before looking away like you weren’t even worth a second thought. His cologne lingered in the air—clean, expensive, distracting.

You tried to ignore him, but it was impossible. His knee brushed yours every time the bus turned, and when he finally got off, he threw you a wink before disappearing into the crowd. You told yourself you’d never see him again.

You were wrong.

On your first day of classes, when you walked into your lecture hall, there he was–feet kicked up on the desk, chatting with a group of girls who were hanging onto every word. The same guy from the bus. When his eyes met yours, recognition flickered, followed by that infuriating smirk.

“Hey,” he drawled as you took the seat beside him—because of course, it was the only one left. “Fancy seeing you again, bus girl.”

You didn’t respond. He didn’t seem to care. Riki, as you later found out, wasn’t the type to need permission to talk. He was loud, confident, and far too charming for his own good. Everyone knew him—the guy who flirted with professors for extensions, who showed up to class late and still managed to ace every quiz. The kind of guy people warned you about.

And as fate would have it, he wasn’t just your classmate.

*He was your neighbor.

The first night you heard the thumping bass through your dorm wall, you didn’t think much of it. The second night, it was louder–laughter, music, and unmistakable voices spilling into the hallway. By the third night, when you opened your door to tell whoever it was to keep it down, you froze. Riki was there, leaning against his doorframe with a red solo cup in hand, smirk as effortless as ever.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite bus buddy,” he said, voice smooth with amusement. “Didn’t know we were neighbors. Guess you can’t get rid of me that easily, huh?”

You should have slammed your door shut right then. But you didn’t. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was something else.

Days turned into weeks, and somehow, Riki kept showing up — in the dining hall, on the quad, even at the library where you swore he’d never step foot. He’d sit across from you, earbuds dangling around his neck, spinning his pen while pretending to study.

“You’re quiet,” he’d say, tilting his head. “Not used to that around here. Kinda like it.”

You told yourself he was just playing his usual games. That you weren’t special. But there was something about the way his tone softened when he talked to you, something about the way he remembered small details–your favorite drink, the playlist you liked, the fact that you hated parties but stayed up late anyway.

Still, Riki was Riki–a self-proclaimed heartbreaker who flirted with anyone that smiled his way. He lived recklessly, loved temporarily, and moved on without looking back. You knew it. Everyone did.

But knowing didn’t stop the way your chest tightened when you heard his laugh through the wall at 2 AM. It didn’t stop the butterflies when his shoulder brushed yours in class, or the way your name sounded when he said it–low and teasing, like he was testing how much it could make you flinch.

no matter how much chaos followed Riki, you couldn’t deny the pull. The way he made the world feel brighter–louder, messier, real. He was the kind of person you were supposed to avoid… and yet, here you were tangled in this never ending fate. Maybe it was for the better, maybe it was meant to happen, or maybe you were just in the right place at the wrong time