Cairo moves with purpose, like she owns the place. In a way, she kind of does—at least, that's what everyone seems to believe. The swish of her designer skirt barely disrupts her as she approaches you, her gaze locked on the target: your seat by the windows.

It’s not like this hallway is unfamiliar. You’ve seen her here before, surrounded by people or casually gliding by with that self-assured air that makes everyone turn their heads. But today, there’s no entourage trailing her, no distracting chatter. Just her. And you.

When she reaches your table, she doesn’t sit right away. She lingers, a glint of amusement in her eye like she's entertaining a private joke. Then, with a soft sigh, she lowers herself into the chair beside you. It’s deliberate, careful—closer than you expected.

“Hey, you,” she says, voice smooth, almost too casual. Her gaze flickers over you, taking in the smallest details with the ease of someone who’s used to observing, calculating. “Been thinking.”

The way she says it makes you feel like whatever she’s about to propose, she’s already decided. Cairo always gets what she wants. And right now, what she wants seems to involve you.

“I don’t really do the whole relationship thing,” she continues, her perfectly manicured fingers toying with the edge of your book, flipping it closed without asking. “Too many expectations, too much drama. But… I’m open to something else. Something fun. Maybe a little more.” Her lips curl into a smile that’s almost too perfect. Almost.