The tale of love

RYAN'S POV

There she was again.

Angel.

Alone near the studio steps, kneeling to pack up her sketch bag as the late afternoon sun spilled golden light across the lawn. Her fingers brushed across paint tubes and graphite pencils, moving gently, carelessly—as if unaware of the world watching her.

As if unaware I was watching her.

She had no idea what she did to me.

And maybe that was the worst part.

I hadn't planned to walk over. I told myself I'd just glance and move on, that I didn't care about the way her laugh echoed when she was around Zayne, or the way her eyes softened when she looked at him.

But I lied.

Because in that moment, with her back to me and her head bowed in concentration, I felt that same tension pulling me toward her.

And this time, I didn't fight it.

I crossed the lawn and stopped directly in front of her.

She looked up, startled. "Ryan?"

I didn't speak. I reached down and gently—but firmly—grabbed her hand, pulling her up to her feet.

"What are you—?"

Her voice died in her throat when our eyes met. I held her hand like it was the only thing keeping me grounded. I didn't know how to say what I wanted to say. I didn't even know what I wanted to say. All I knew was that I couldn't stand the thought of Zayne getting there first.

But he already had.

He had told her how he felt. I hadn't.

And that knowledge burned me alive.

"Look at me," I murmured.

She did. And in her eyes, I saw the truth.

It wasn't me.

It had never been me.

Her heart already belonged to someone else.

Still… I didn't let go.

I just stood there for a beat too long, holding her hand like a coward who wanted to stop time but had no words to back it up.

Then, finally, I dropped it.

And walked away without saying a thing.

---

ANGEL'S POV

I stood in stunned silence as Ryan walked away.

My wrist still tingled from where his fingers had wrapped around it—not in a threatening way, but in that unsure, longing kind of way. Like he wanted to say something but couldn't get the words out. Like maybe he had a thousand things burning in his chest, but pride wouldn't let them spill.

And for a moment, my heart hurt for him.

But I couldn't ignore the ache that came from somewhere deeper—an ache tied not to Ryan, but to Zayne.

Because when Zayne looked at me… he said what he felt. He didn't hide it. He didn't shut down. He didn't try to protect himself by pretending not to care.

He cared.

And he told me.

And that mattered more than anything.

I exhaled slowly, shook off the awkward encounter, and finished packing up my sketch bag.

Then I started walking.

I needed to see him.

---

FLASHBACK – ZAYNE'S POV

We were at the campus greenhouse two nights ago.

The stars were just beginning to peek through the velvet sky, and the lanterns swayed gently above us as Angel and I sat on an old wooden bench.

Her knees were pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. She looked like a painting I wasn't allowed to touch.

"I don't know what I'm feeling anymore," she had whispered.

I turned to her. "I do."

She looked at me, startled.

"I like you, Angel," I said. "More than I should. And definitely more than I've let on. But I'm tired of pretending."

Her lips parted. "Zayne…"

"I know things are messy. I know I'm not perfect. But I like you when you're loud. I like you when you're quiet. I like you when you're a chaotic mess and when you're laser-focused with a paintbrush in your hand. I just… like you."

The silence between us was heavy and full.

Then she said softly, "Thank you for saying it."

And though she didn't say the words back, her eyes told me everything.

---

PRESENT – ANGEL'S POV

That memory played over and over in my head as I walked toward the art hall.

He liked me.

And even though I was scared… I liked him too.

I stopped near the café on campus and pulled out my phone.

Angel: Are you free? I could use some company.

Zayne: Always. Rooftop?

Angel: See you in ten.

---

MEANWHILE – CAMPUS QUAD

RAY'S POV

The quad was buzzing. Students, music, and typical weekend energy.

I was juggling a coffee and a bag of chips when I slammed—literally—into someone.

WHAM.

"Seriously, Ray?! Do you have magnets in your feet or are you just naturally chaotic?" Lucy barked.

I blinked. "My bad, Red. I didn't see you."

"Because you were walking with your eyes closed!"

"Relax," I said, raising my hands. "No coffee spilled. Everyone wins."

She crossed her arms. "You owe me one. That's the third time this week."

"I'll buy you a donut. Call it even?"

She rolled her eyes, but a tiny smirk played at her lips.

"I hate you," she muttered.

"You keep saying that. One day I might start believing it," I grinned.

Her glare sharpened, but her cheeks pinked a little.

I walked off, heart thumping louder than expected.

---

LUCY'S POV

That idiot.

Ray was a menace. He couldn't go five minutes without running into something—or someone.

But why did I feel butterflies every time we argued?

I groaned.

No. Nope. Not going there.

Not with Ray freaking Daniels.

Still, I watched him disappear into the crowd and whispered under my breath, "Dumb cute idiot."

---

ZAYNE'S POV – ROOFTOP

The wind was cool against my face as I waited on the rooftop. Angel arrived a few minutes later, her steps soft, careful.

She didn't say anything at first—just stood beside me, looking out at the city.

Then, without turning, she said, "Thank you for telling me how you feel."

I glanced at her. "And?"

"I'm still figuring it out," she said. "But I know that when I'm around you, it's easier to breathe."

My chest tightened.

"Then I'll stay right here," I said, "until you don't need air anymore."

She smiled faintly, and the stars seemed to burn a little brighter.

We stayed like that for a long time—quiet, peaceful, and for once, not pretending.

---

RYAN'S POV – NIGHT

I sat alone in my room, the light from my laptop casting shadows on the wall. The silence was deafening.

I knew.

I knew she was with him.

I didn't need confirmation. The way she looked at him. The softness in her voice when she said his name. I wasn't stupid.

But damn, it hurt.

I leaned back, trying to fight the tightness in my chest.

James' voice rang in my head from earlier:

> "Bro… you're falling for her."

And I hated that he was right.

I hated that I'd let her in, even a little.

I hated that I was too late.

Still… I had to try.

I grabbed my phone and typed the message before I could overthink it.

Ryan: Angel. Meet me tomorrow. Rooftop. After class.

I hit send.

Then stared at the screen like it might offer me a miracle.

---

ANGEL'S POV – LATER THAT NIGHT

The message from Ryan came in just as I was getting ready for bed.

I stared at it for a long time.

Meet me tomorrow. Rooftop.

I didn't know what he wanted to say. I didn't know if I even wanted to hear it.

But deep inside, something whispered that this was important.

So I typed back:

Angel: Okay.

Then turned off my phone and closed my eyes.

The rooftop was quiet.

Angel stepped onto the gravel-covered surface, the wind tugging at her sleeves. Ryan stood near the edge, hands in his pockets, head down.

She hesitated, then walked toward him.

He turned slowly when he heard her footsteps.

Their eyes met.

She expected words. Maybe a confession. Maybe a fight.

But all he said was—

"Do you like him?"

Her breath caught.

Because suddenly, she knew:

This wasn't about rivalry anymore.

This was a heart on the edge of breaking.

And before she could respond—