Sebastian's POV
It was too early in the morning to be assaulted by glitter.
And by glitter, I mean her voice.
"SEB!"
I flinched. Somewhere across the university field, a voice shrieked my name like I'd just won the lottery—or murdered someone, I couldn't tell. A few birds flapped away in a panic. Several heads turned. I nearly dropped my bag.
Ray Lin.
Of course it was her.
I squinted. Yep. Pink hoodie, sparkly sneakers, iced coffee in one hand, probably something sweet in the other—running full speed across the grass like we were in some low-budget rom-com. And then—
"OH CRAP!"
She tripped on air.
Again.
I swear gravity had a personal vendetta against her.
Before I could process, she launched herself at me like a sugar-fueled missile. I caught her—barely. Her legs locked around my waist, arms flung around my neck, coffee somehow still in hand, face inches from mine.
"You caught me," she breathed dramatically, eyes wide like I'd just rescued her from a burning building. "You literally saved my life."
"Ray—"
"Oh my god, thank you! I was running so fast and then boom! Gravity! But you caught me. You're, like, so fast. Did you play sports in high school? You look like you did. Like—football, maybe? Or fencing. You give fencing energy. That broody, swordsman vibe."
"Ray," I gritted.
"I saw what you did yesterday," she whispered, eyes now big and serious. "You—you glared at those girls. I heard them, you know. The things they said? So mean. So cruel. I was gonna pretend I didn't, but you—you didn't even say anything, and they shut up. That was—hot. No, like, respectful-hot. Not creepy-hot. Heroic-hot? You get me."
"Ray. Get off."
"No."
"What."
"No," she said again, clinging tighter. "This is my thank-you. A live-action hug. With legs. And also love. Platonic love. Unless you want non-platonic, which—okay, wow, shutting up now."
I sighed, ran a hand down my face. Her breath was warm against my cheek, her nose almost bumping mine. Her hair smelled like strawberries and bubblegum, and if I thought too hard about the way her arms were wrapped around me, I'd lose my mind.
"I'm carrying you to class," I said flatly.
"You're my knight in brooding armor."
"I will drop you."
"You won't," she chirped.
God help me, I didn't.
She yapped the entire way to class. About the weather. About how Ava said she was delusional. About how the moon last night looked like a cursed pancake. About how she brought me coffee but dropped it during her 'heroic launch.' About marshmallow fluff and glitter and how she was starting to think my eyes changed color depending on the light.
She didn't even pause for breath.
When I got to our classroom door—still carrying her, yes, because she refused to let go—Austin looked up from his seat, blinked once, and said, "Morning, lovebirds."
I glared. He smirked.
Ray waved at him from my neck. "Hi Austin! Guess who tripped again!"
"Did you drag him down with you this time?"
"Nope, he caught me. Look!" She gestured wildly, still clinging like a koala. "Heroic. Like a Disney prince. Only grumpier."
I dumped her gently—emphasis on gently—into the chair between us.
She didn't stop smiling.
Neither did I. Not outwardly, of course. That would've been insane. But inside?
Inside, there was a spark I hadn't felt in years.
She was chaos. Color. Confetti on a Tuesday morning.
And damn it, I think I was getting used to her.