~THE GIRL HE CAN'T IGNORE~
The next morning, the street crew was buzzing with excitement. Over breakfast, someone threw out the idea:
"Why don't we spend the rest of the holidays in Switzerland?"
At first, the room went silent. Then one by one, heads started nodding. By the time the idea reached me, I was already grinning. "I'm in!"
But convincing Raffy… that was another mission.
I plopped down next to him, nudging his shoulder with mine. "Come on, Rafffyyy. It'll be fun. Mountains, snow, chocolates—don't tell me you're saying no to chocolates."
He gave me a side-eye, pretending to scroll his phone. "It's not about chocolates."
I leaned closer, my voice dropping into that fake-cute tone I used whenever I wanted something. "Pleaseee? Don't ruin the crew plan. You'll love it, I promise. Imagine the adventure. Imagine… me throwing snowballs at you."
That made him chuckle. "You'd probably miss."
"Maybe," I admitted dramatically, "but isn't it worth going just to see me fail?"
He sighed, finally giving in. "Fine. When do we leave?"
"Tomorrow. 5 p.m. sharp."
"Fine," he said again, and then immediately got busy on his phone.
As usual, my own phone was dead, so I slid closer, trying to peek at his screen like I always did. This time, though, he tilted it away from me.
"Becoming fishyyy, fishyyy," I teased, narrowing my eyes. "You can tell me, I promise I'll keep it private."
He suddenly snapped, "NO. There's nothing fishy."
My eyebrows shot up. "Ohhh… who's she? That unlucky girl?"
"There's no *she*."
"Really?" I grinned, poking him. "Then why so defensive, hmm?"
His jaw tightened, and then he threw my own words back at me, louder, almost taunting: "And if there is a *she*, why are you inquiring, huh?"
I froze. "I was just asking in a friendly manner. No prob, don't tell me."
But he didn't even hear me properly, his words sharper than before. "Is it like you like me—BY MISTAKE?"
The way he spat "by mistake" stung, but I rolled my eyes dramatically and stormed off to my bedroom. Behind me, I could already hear him typing again.
I didn't care. At least, that's what I told myself. Instead, I happily started packing, humming little tunes under my breath, throwing clothes into my suitcase like I was preparing for the best adventure of my life. Every now and then, I'd talk to myself, cheering about how fun the trip would be.
When Raffy finally came to my doorway, he stopped. He just stood there, staring.
"Her hair was a mess, her room half-chaos, and yet she looked… radiant. She was smiling at the smallest things, folding clothes with exaggerated care, muttering jokes to herself". Raffy's chest tightened while staring me.
He thought, *I haven't seen any girl more beautiful than her. Even if she was sleeping in the ugliest way, she'd still be the prettiest to me. She's my most favourite person till now. The way she enjoys every tiny thing… it's like sadness doesn't even exist for her. Every happiness seems made just for her. I swear—she's my favourite.*
He walked in silently, picking up a stack of clothes to fold. I glanced at him, suspicious at first, but his soft expression melted any sharpness left in me.
"You know," I said while stuffing socks into a corner of the bag, "I'm only packing pretty outfits so I can show off in Switzerland."
Raffy smirked. "Pretty? You'd wear a trash bag and still look fine."
"Ew. Did you just compare me to garbage?" I shot back, laughing.
"You said it, not me."
We both giggled, the room filling with that light warmth only we had. As we folded, packed, and teased each other, the argument from earlier felt miles away.
By the end of it, our suitcases were ready, but more than that… so were our hearts.
Just as I zipped my bag shut, Raffy's phone buzzed on the desk. He reached for it quickly—too quickly. For a second, our eyes met, and I caught a flicker of nervousness in his. He locked the screen before I could glimpse a thing.
"Fishy, fishyyy," I whispered under my breath, smirking.
But this time, Raffy didn't laugh. He just shoved the phone in his pocket, his smile a little too forced.
And that… left me wondering.