ADHIRA'S POV
If being an influencer taught me anything, it's that the camera never captures the chaos behind the content.
This morning? Chaos.
I had an early brand shoot for a new clothing collab—one of those "effortlessly casual but secretly exhausting" campaigns—and I was already ten minutes late. My hair was only curled on one side, my eyeliner wing looked like it had flown into a thunderstorm, and the zipper on my tote had officially given up.
But of course, I went live.
"Hey, loves!" I said, holding my phone up with one hand while sprinting toward the studio. "Running late, but I'm wearing the cutest oversized fit today—just wait till you see the BTS…"
I didn't get to finish that sentence.
Because life, in all its cruel comedic timing, decided that was the exact moment I should slam into someone.
Like, full body impact.
My phone flew out of my hand. My bag hit the ground. And I landed half-twisted in a tangle of long sleeves and regret.
"Ow," the guy said sharply, stumbling back. "Are you okay? Or do you always body-slam strangers at 8 in the morning?"
I looked up, breathless—and annoyed.
Tall. Dusky. Hair flopping perfectly over one eye like he'd just walked out of an indie film. He wore a faded tee, headphones around his neck, and a backpack slung over one shoulder like some mysterious college rebel.
"I was in a rush," I said, brushing myself off. "And you were literally in the way."
He blinked. "It's a sidewalk. Not your personal runway."
"It kind of is when you're late for a shoot," I muttered, grabbing my phone. "Which I am."
"Oh. You're famous or something?"
"I'm an influencer."
He smirked. "Of course you are."
I squinted. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," he said, clearly meaning everything. "Just—explains the whole main character energy."
I narrowed my eyes. "And you're what? The background stranger I never see again?"
He paused. "Maybe."
I rolled my eyes and turned away, fast-walking toward the studio entrance. I didn't have time to argue with Hoodie Boy. Besides, if I didn't show up in the next five minutes, the shoot director would probably delete me from existence.
The rest of the day was a blur—flashes of cameras, wardrobe changes, a million takes of fake laughter. I'd posted two reels, three stories, and a carousel of blurry behind-the-scenes. On the outside? Smooth. On the inside? Running on cold coffee and last night's leftover fries.
I finally sank into the backseat of my cab, just as my phone buzzed with a message from Mom.
MOM: Wear something nice tonight. We've arranged dinner with someone. Just a casual meeting 😊
I blinked.
No. No no no.
I called her immediately.
"Ma. What is this 'casual meeting'?"
She said it so cheerfully I almost threw my phone: "We've set you up on a date! He's a very nice boy, beta. We just want you to talk."
"I didn't agree to this!"
"You never would," she said calmly. "Which is why we didn't ask."
"Ma!"
"Adhira, you're always busy with followers and shoots and brands. You don't even notice real people anymore. Just talk to him, okay? One dinner."
"I don't have time for this!"
"You do tonight. Be ready by 7."
She hung up.
I stared at my reflection in the car window—lashes drooping, hair slightly frizzy, lip gloss long gone.
A blind date. On top of the shoot. On top of bumping into Mr. Hoodie & Ego Issues.
What a day.
But deep down, something inside me twisted. A tiny feeling I couldn't name.
Because I had a very strange feeling this wasn't the last time I'd be crashing into him.