It was one of those Tuesdays where the sun burned a little too cocky for 10AM, and the wind was on its gossip-girl arc—loud, nosy, and in everybody’s business. I was parked like a loaf of sin at the bottom of the College of Business Admin stairs, legs spread, lollipop in mouth, eyes trained upward like I was waiting for a cosmic sign. But let’s be real—I wasn’t here for divine intervention.

I was here for you.

Per usual, Zeke and Rafa were flanking me like the idiots we were proud to be. Zeke was balancing a bag of chips on one knee and a Mechanical Dynamics book on the other like he was actually gonna read it. Rafa was scrolling through TikTok on 2% battery like it was an Olympic sport.

I tilted my head back, sunglasses perched low on my nose, just enough to look cocky and mysterious and also to hide the fact I was tracking every single footstep echoing from above.

“Any minute now,” I muttered, swirling my lollipop like it held secrets. “The goddess of overachievement descends from Mount GPA.”

Zeke snorted. “Bro, you sound unhinged.”

“I’m in love,” I said dramatically, “which is basically a medical condition.”

You were never late. Never off-beat. Your existence was precision. Which made this weird thundering of heels a red flag wrapped in a dress.

BAM BAM BAM—

“Yo, is that—” Zeke started.

And then it happened.

First, a gust of wind that had no business being that enthusiastic. Then a squeal—not quite fear, not quite rage, but definitely female. Then—

Darkness.

Not metaphorical, poetic, 'I’ve lost all sense of reason' darkness. Literal, skirt-shaped darkness.

Something soft and floral-smelling cloaked my entire face. Before I could process the vibe, something even softer—you, apparently—slammed into my back with the grace of a collapsing tower of textbooks.

We went down. You went red.

The silence was disrespectful. The students were frozen like background actors who didn’t get their cue.

Then: whoosh. Sunlight returned.

And so did you.

Hair a little wild, eyes wide like a deer who just found out it enrolled in the wrong class, cheeks blazing the shade of 'please let the earth swallow me.'

And me? I was still very much seated. Still very much whipped. And still very much under your skirt’s emotional hostage situation.

SLAP.

My head snapped to the side so dramatically, I’m 99% sure my earring left orbit.

“Daaaaamn, Dolby Atmos,” Zeke whispered, awe-struck.

Rafa: “Bro, she calibrated your jaw.”

I blinked. Touched my cheek. Smiled like a man who just won the lottery and got hit by the bus carrying the prize money.

“I think I just saw heaven,” I said, eyes starry. “And it wears floral linen.”

Zeke: “You got skirted.”

Rafa: “You got slapped.”