.....
Blick's cup trembled slightly in his hand. His fingers tightened around it as his eyes locked onto the canteen entrance.
She was here.
Kiara.
She entered like a storm wrapped in velvet—smooth but dangerous. Her friends followed, each one radiating the same wild beauty: sharp chins, smooth skin, tight dresses that hugged every seductive curve. Slim waists, firm hips, high breasts that bounced gently as they walked with unapologetic confidence.
They were loud, giggling, taking over the space like they owned it. The room's energy shifted around them. Blick swallowed hard. Even Zayen raised an eyebrow.
Kiara's one-shoulder black top clung to her like it had been designed to make people stare. And it worked. The deep-cut V teased a hint of the line between her breasts, framed by a silver chain that rested delicately above them. Her high ponytail made her look fierce, and her eyes scanned the canteen like a lioness.
They grabbed a table. Kiara casually crossed her legs—one foot swinging. Her friend ordered cold coffee and energy drinks. Another girl—wearing a dangerously short plaid skirt—asked for tea.
Kiara scrunched her nose. "Ugh. Tea? No thanks. I already spilled enough of that today."
The group laughed.
Blick smiled awkwardly. His shirt still had a faint mark from her little 'accident.'
Zayen leaned toward him. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
"That they're way out of my league?" Blick replied.
"No. That they know they're not."
Just then, one of Kiara's friends leaned closer, whispering something while staring directly at Blick. Her eyes scanned him from hair to shoes and landed on his chest—her smirk widened.
Blick tried not to make eye contact, but he heard her say, "That one's got a cute face… and something mysterious."
Kiara didn't react. Instead, she slowly stood up.
Blick's breath caught. She was walking toward him—slow, smooth, hips swaying like a metronome built to mess with his focus.
"She's coming to me?" he thought.
As he panicked slightly, he stood up clumsily to throw away his snack wrapper. Smooth, right? Wrong. The trash can was full. He pushed it harder, and the lid popped open with a clang.
"Nice." he muttered.
He turned to wash his hands—and then she was beside him.
"Hey," Kiara said.
Her voice was soft, sultry.
Blick froze. "H-Hey!" he said too loudly, then cleared his throat. "Um… hey."
Kiara gave a half-smile, then walked back to her seat.
Blick's brain: static.
Zayen tried to hold in his laugh but failed.
"You flirt like a toaster," he teased.
"Shut up."
Back at the girls' table, Kiara's friends surrounded her with questions. "So? You like him?" "He's kinda cute, right?" "Are his eyes really green or am I just turned on?"
Kiara? Silent. She just sipped her cold coffee like nothing happened.
Minutes later, as Blick and Zayen stood to leave, a guy at the sink sprayed water too hard—Blick's shirt got soaked right across his chest.
The fabric clung to his torso.
Abs. Defined, wet, and glistening.
A collective pause hit the girls' table. Even Kiara's eyes widened for half a second before she blinked it away.
"Oh damn…" one girl whispered.
Kiara bit her lip lightly—so quick, so subtle, but Blick saw it.
Zayen chuckled. "Show-off."
"I didn't mean to."
"Yeah, yeah. Accidentally sexy. Got it."
As they stepped out of the canteen, a group of boys burst past, shouting, "FRESHERS NIGHT TOMORROW! DANCE FLOOR! GAMES! MYSTERY DAZZLE QUEEN!"
Blick paused.
"Dazzle Queen?" he asked.
Zayen shrugged. "Some tradition. Winner of the night. Usually someone spicy."
Blick thought for a second. Should I go? Should I… perform?
That's when she appeared again.
Kiara walked up to him slowly, her hands behind her back, voice curious but casual.
"So… Blick, right?"
He nodded. "Yeah."
"What's your story? You don't talk much. You got mystery points."
He smirked. "Born introvert. But I speak when it matters."
That got her attention.
She tilted her head. "Hobbies?"
"Dance. Calisthenics. Some freestyle. Gym when I can."
Kiara blinked. "You dance?"
He nodded. "Why?"
"Didn't peg you for it."
"People don't usually peg me right," he said with a playful glance.
She gave him a sharp look, but then smiled. "Touché."
Zayen called out, "Blick! Let's move."
Before he turned to leave, Kiara asked, "Hey… Zayen's girlfriend… who is she?"
Blick chuckled. "Alina. Total firecracker."
Kiara let out a long breath, relaxing slightly. "Okay. Good to know."
As Blick turned to go, a sudden "thud!" made him spin.
Kiara had slipped.
Her heel twisted on the uneven tile. She landed on her side—her tight dress riding dangerously high.
Blick rushed to her. His eyes involuntarily landed on the soft, exposed curve of her thighs and the deep midsternal line of her chest. Her necklace had fallen to one side, resting between her breasts.
She looked up. Caught him staring.
"Uh… hello?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "My hand, not my boobs."
Blick, flustered, helped her up quickly. She was laughing now—more amused than angry.
Her dress had picked up dust from the floor.
She frowned. "Ugh. It's dirty."
Then she glanced at him. "Come with me? I need help cleaning it. You owe me one."
Blick hesitated—but nodded.
"Sure."
They started walking away together—eyes from every direction following them. Whispers followed too.
Kiara didn't seem to care.
But as they turned the corner toward the empty hallway near the cleaning room…
Someone else was watching.
A figure leaning casually against the wall.
Phone in hand.
Recording?
No smile. Just stillness.
Watching.
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