The weather is good—the kind that feels deliberately misleading.
Sunny. Clean. Too peaceful.
Victoria and Giselle and I are running laps around the university's sports complex. The track beneath our feet answers with a rhythm that sounds like a heartbeat. Tight leggings keep the muscles engaged, my tank top sticks to my back, my breathing evens out. A cap shields my eyes from the sun, but not from my thoughts.
I love this moment—when the body is tired and the mind finally goes quiet.
Almost.
We slow down, step off the track, switch to walking, breathing deep. The air smells of grass, sweat, and something sweet drifting over from a nearby food truck.
"It feels so good to work out after lectures," I say, stretching the words along with my shoulders. "Lecture halls suck the soul right out of you."
Giselle nods… but she isn't looking at me.
Her gaze is glued to the weight machines.
Finn and Alex are there. Muscles. Sweat. Confidence. A lot of confidence.
"I see you've gotten pretty close to Finn," I remark dryly, glancing sideways.
Giselle smirks, not even trying to hide her pleasure.
"And I see you keep turning your nose up at Alex," she shoots back instantly.
We laugh. At the same time. Too perfectly synchronized to be accidental.
We walk over to the guys.
Finn doesn't waste time. He's far too confident for pauses. He steps up to Giselle, wraps an arm around her, kisses her briefly on the lips—quick, bold, as if he's had the right to do that for a long time.
I freeze.
Wow.
My friend does not waste time. At all.
Alex, inspired by the scene, tries to repeat the move with me. He steps closer, leans in—
I pull back. Softly, but unmistakably.
His smile dims. Just a little. But I notice.
Sorry.
You can't order the heart around.
"Want to go for a ride?" Finn suggests, as if nothing happened. "Grab dinner at a café."
Giselle nearly jumps. Literally. Her eyes light up.
Got it, I note. She's been hit by love. Or hormones. Or both at once.
And right at that moment—
Like devils popping out of a snuffbox.
"Ta-da."
Theo and Sebastian appear in front of us.
In a split second, images flare in my mind:
the Angel club,
waitress uniforms,
stupid trays,
shouts of "Run! We'll hold them off!"
I grimace.
"What are you doing here?!" Giselle snaps at them. "Or did you forget we saved you from getting arrested at the club?"
"Have you completely lost your minds?" I add flatly.
Finn and Alex step forward. Instinctively. As if the space has suddenly become theirs.
"What do you want, idiots?" Finn throws out. "Decide to save someone again?"
Theo takes a step forward. Too sharp. Too cocky.
"I came for you," he says, pointing straight at Finn.
Oh.
Now I'm interested. Genuinely.
Finn lets out a surprised huff. Alex moves in beside him, shoulder to shoulder. Giselle and I exchange a glance—excitement in her eyes, curiosity edged with unease in mine.
"Here I am," Finn replies calmly. "What's next?"
Theo smiles. A bad smile.
"A boxing round. Three minutes."
He pauses.
"You in? Or are your knees shaking?"
The air seems to go quiet. Even the sun feels like it slows down.
"I'm in," Finn answers without hesitation. "Just don't cry after."
They square up, facing each other.
Their stares hit like punches. The anger is almost tangible.
I feel everything inside me tighten.
This is a bad idea.
A very bad idea.
And yet…
I can't look away.
Because I know—
something is about to happen.
**
Finn and Theo put on their gloves. The boxing headgear snaps shut with the dry rasp of Velcro—a sound that pulls everything inside me into a tight knot. The ring is lit harshly, almost theatrically. Alex and Sebastian take their places as seconds, far too serious for guys who were joking around just ten minutes ago.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Giselle.
Her eyes are burning. Not with fear—with desire.
And suddenly it becomes clear to me: she likes risk. She likes it when someone fights for her.
Damn it… do I?
My heart is pounding as if I'm the one stepping into the ring.
"Round!" someone calls.
The fight begins.
They're both ready. You can tell immediately—their stances are compact, bodies spring-loaded, breathing economical. Not beginners. Not even close. They move in a shuttle rhythm, sliding left and right, slipping, ducking—everything clean, technical, almost elegant.
Too elegant to be safe.
Theo is angry. I see it in his shoulders—tight, raised. He presses forward with a combination: left–left–right, a duck, a step out to the right. Finn blocks high, elbows tucked, absorbs it—and fires back with a fast one-two.
Finn's right crashes into Theo near the ear.
A dull, heavy sound.
Theo wobbles. For a split second, he's floating—gone.
He hops back, then sidesteps left, escaping.
Finn senses it. Predatory. He lunges to finish—too confident, too fast.
Don't rush… I think—and in that exact moment, everything goes to hell.
Finn throws a straight left—
Theo slips,
and fires a counter straight.
To the nose.
Giselle and I flinch together.
My face tightens physically, as if the punch landed on me. I squeeze my eyes shut.
When I open them, I see blood.
A thin line runs from under Finn's headgear. Bright. Real.
"Stop!" Alex and Sebastian shout almost at the same time.
The fight is halted.
Giselle bolts forward, rushes to Finn, wipes the blood away with a handkerchief—too carefully, too quickly. Then she looks up at Theo.
There's reproach in her eyes.
And I see how he takes it.
Like a blow. Far more painful than anything that landed in the ring.
Theo rips off his headgear. Pulls off his gloves with a sharp, angry motion.
"You…" he starts, looking at Giselle. "You…"
The words get stuck. Won't come out. He slams his hand down in a gesture of helpless rage—and turns away.
"Let's go," he throws at Sebastian and walks off without looking back.
The silence rings.
"What idiots," Alex mutters, watching them leave.
I exhale. Only now do I realize I haven't been breathing this whole time.
"They're our classmates," I say quietly. "And… Theo is in love with Giselle."
There's sadness in my voice. I can hear it myself.
Giselle stays silent. Finn presses the handkerchief to his nose. Alex is tense. The air feels thick, like the moment before a storm.
This won't be their last stunt, I think.
And everyone around seems to feel the same.
We don't speak.
We're too alert.
Because this round—
was definitely not the last one.