Ink and Ivory

"Damn, you okay?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

I tried not to let it show—how stunned I actually was. My chest was thudding like I just ran a lap around the campus, but I kept my face composed. Cool. Chill. Not affected.

But I was.

God, I was.

She stood there, blinking at me like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. And I couldn't blame her. I mean—no offense—but I know I'm not hard to look at. The messy hair, the half-asleep but handsome look, the natural charm—yeah, I'm aware.

But she? She was something else.

She looked… different. And I mean that in the best way.

Her skin was this warm, sun-kissed shade—morena, glowing like she'd been brushed with gold. She didn't need any filter, any makeup. It was the kind of skin that made you think of summer, of beaches and sunlight. She stood tall—not short at all—but she still only reached up to my neck. And I kind of liked that. I don't know why. It just fit.

Her nose wasn't sharp, not the kind you'd see in magazines. But it wasn't flat either. It had this soft slope to it that actually suited her—natural and real, not fake-perfect. Her eyes, though? That's where I got caught. Big, expressive, beautiful. But what made me stare longer was the small detail most people would overlook.

One eye had a double eyelid. The other didn't.

And maybe for some people, that would throw off balance. But not on her. On her, it worked. Like the universe got playful and gave her something unique—one eye that seemed to open wider, more awake, more curious. The other, a bit softer, more mysterious. It made you want to look at her twice, just to figure her out.

Then there were her lips.

Her lower lip was more prominent than the upper, making her pout seem naturally full, a little shy, a little confident. And it fit her face perfectly. Like everything about her wasn't trying too hard—it just was.

Beautiful in a way that didn't scream for attention, but still demanded it.

If I was sleepy earlier, now I felt like I just had five shots of espresso. My heart wouldn't calm down.

And as I looked at her, I caught myself wondering: Is this just excitement from seeing her again after all these years? Or is this something else—something deeper I haven't figured out yet?

Whatever it was… I wasn't about to fight it.

So be it.

Dos was too caught up admiring the girl in front of him that he almost lost his composure when she gently pulled away from his hold and awkwardly stood up, clearly flustered.

"Ah, um... thank you—and sorry," she mumbled, eyes barely meeting his before quickly turning away.

He was about to respond with a casual "it's okay," maybe even flash a smile, but she didn't give him the chance. She sprinted off like her life depended on it.

He blinked, then let out a small laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Pft, hahaha. Damn. It's been years, but she's still the cutest," he muttered to himself, eyes trailing the path she had just taken. "I wonder if she remembers me... maybe not. I mean, puberty hit me pretty hard. My young face changed a lot—I barely look like the same kid in those old photos."

He paused, smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"But I hope she remembers. And if not... I'll just have to remind her myself."

Still smiling to himself, his gaze remained fixed on the direction she disappeared into, lost in thought—until two familiar arms suddenly dropped onto his shoulders from either side.

He glanced to the left and right. Of course. It was none other than his two friends, Shaun and Drake.

"Well, well, look who ditched us for a girl," Drake teased, grinning. "You've only been here a week and you've already got your eyes on someone?"

Dos rolled his eyes and quickly shrugged off their arms, though a grin was forming on his face too.

"Who was that?" Shaun asked, curiosity obvious in his voice. "Do I know her? I don't think you've talked to anyone since your first day here. Is she a family friend or something?"

Dos simply shook his head, not offering any explanation. Instead, he clapped both of them on the back—a signal.

"Let's go. Canteen's on me," he said with a lopsided smile.

That was all they needed to hear. Shaun and Drake instantly cheered, already falling into step beside him, still chuckling and throwing teasing glances his way.

"So, who is she, huh?" Shaun pressed. "You can't drop a smile like that and not spill the tea."

Dos just shook his head again, smirking as they walked toward the canteen. But after a few seconds of playful silence, he finally spoke—softly, but with enough certainty to make both of his friends stop in their tracks.

"My future wife."

That was all it took.

"Shosshhh!" the two burst out in exaggerated manly squeals, drawing attention from a few passing students as they started pestering him all over again.

Dos? He just kept smiling.

Because out of all the reasons not to come back to this town—he knew deep down, she was the reason he did.

And now, he didn't regret it one bit.

Callista, on the other hand, bolted the moment she uttered her quiet "thank you" and "sorry," running off in embarrassment before the guy could even reply.

She didn't know why exactly—but something about his presence made her heart race in the most confusing way. There was something in the way he looked at her—so intense, so focused—it felt like she was about to melt on the spot.

Seriously, if she were an ice cream, she would've already melted into a puddle.

When she finally put some distance between them, she stopped and tried to catch her breath, placing a hand over her chest as if that could somehow calm the rapid beating of her heart. She even gave her chest a few light taps, as if scolding it for misbehaving.

"Ughhh, how embarrassing! Why did I run off like that right after saying thank you and sorry? What if he thinks I'm rude?" she groaned, frustration painting her voice.

Realizing how awkward she must've looked, she fought the urge to tug at her hair in shame. What was wrong with her? It wasn't even 9 a.m. and she'd already committed two public embarrassments.

She wanted to cry. Or vanish. Maybe both.

And now, all she could do was pray—beg, even—that she wouldn't run into him again.

At least, that's what she thought…