The morning felt almost suspiciously perfect at first.

The air was soft and balanced—not heavy, not windy, just warm enough to make everything feel cinematic, like the kind of first day of college that people post about later with overly curated captions. {{user}} had envisioned it down to the smallest detail. A slow, confident start. A stop at her favorite coffee shop where the barista already knew her order. A calm drive through the city streets. Then campus—arriving like she belonged exactly where she was going.

The kind of entrance that said: she had her life together, she knew what she was doing, and nothing could throw her off.

Reality, however, seemed to have other plans.

The moment she got closer to her usual route, something in her car started to sound... wrong. A faint hesitation in the engine. A subtle, uneasy sputter that didn’t belong in a vehicle that expensive. She frowned slightly, tapping her fingers once against the steering wheel as if that alone could convince it to behave.

It didn’t.

The sound got worse. The car jerked forward once, then again, like it was trying and failing to keep up its own energy. The dashboard lights flickered with quiet betrayal.

And then—silence.

Not gradual. Not gentle. Just a sudden, humiliating stop in the middle of the road.

{{user}} blinked once, then again, staring ahead like the car might reconsider if she looked at it hard enough. It didn’t.

But the engine stayed off. The silence outside suddenly felt louder than it should’ve.

She leaned back in her seat, letting out a slow breath through her nose, already calculating options. Call someone. Wait. Fix it. Ruin the entire carefully planned morning before it had even properly started.

And just when she thought it couldn’t get more inconvenient—

A low engine sound approached from behind.

Not just any engine. Something smooth. Powerful. Expensive in a way that didn’t need confirmation.

A black Bugatti rolled up beside her slowly, almost deliberately, like it had noticed her situation and decided to make an entrance out of it.

Of course it did.

{{user}} glanced sideways despite herself.

The car stopped just next to her, perfectly positioned like it belonged there more than anything else on the road. The window on the driver’s side was already down, revealing the person inside.

And unfortunately, he looked like he knew exactly the kind of impression he was making.

He was leaning slightly back in the seat, relaxed in a way that suggested he had nowhere urgent to be and never really did. His presence alone felt loud without him saying a word. Sharp features, effortless confidence, and red hair that clearly wasn’t natural—but somehow didn’t feel out of place on him. It looked intentional. Like everything else about him.

He tilted his head just slightly as his gaze landed on her car, then on her. There was a pause—short, but noticeable. The kind of pause people take when they’re deciding whether or not to entertain something.

Then he reached up, slowly pulling his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose before removing them completely. His eyes were sharp with amusement.

A small grin formed at the corner of his mouth.

“Well,” he said, voice smooth and annoyingly calm, like he was already enjoying this moment. “That looks unfortunate.”

He glanced at her car again, then back at her.

“Hey, princess,” he added casually, like the nickname belonged in his vocabulary. “Need a ride?”

The way he said it wasn’t exactly kind. It wasn’t exactly serious either. It sat somewhere in between teasing and bold assumption, like he expected her to either laugh, argue, or accept—any reaction would do as long as it acknowledged him.

And then, as if he hadn’t already pushed it, he gave a lazy wink.

The kind that suggested he knew he was being irritating.

Inside her broken-down car, {{user}} sat still for a second longer than necessary.

The silence from her engine felt heavier now, like it was watching too.

Her gaze shifted slightly back to the Bugatti, then to him again. The timing of everything felt almost insultingly perfect. First day of college. Clean slate. Fresh start. And somehow, before she even reached coffee, she was already dealing with a breakdown and a stranger in an absurdly expensive car acting like he had stepped out of a completely different world.

She exhaled slowly, staring at him through the window.

Oh great.

Just great.

Another problem had officially entered the morning.

Marcus leaned casually against the marble kitchen island in Silas’s penthouse, spinning a set of car keys around one finger like he owned the place—well, technically, Silas did. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls wrapped the room in a clean skyline view of the city, sunlight spilling across polished stone floors and expensive furniture that looked like it had never been used for anything as normal as sitting.

Ajax was already pacing near the window, animated as ever. “Okay, seriously,” he said, turning back to them, “we’re all new here. New college, new city, new everything. This is literally the perfect time to meet people.”

Silas didn’t look up from his phone at first. He was slouched in a chair that looked more like modern art than something meant to be comfortable, one arm resting on the armrest, expression bored in that effortless way he always had. “You two are acting like you’re about to pitch me a startup idea.”

Marcus pushed off the counter. “It’s not a startup. It’s social survival.” Ajax nodded quickly, jumping in before Silas could shut it down. “Exactly. So we thought—small group thing. Meet new people. You come with us.”

That finally got Silas’s attention. He lowered his phone slightly, eyes flicking up. “Let me guess,” he said flatly, “you’re about to say something unbelievably stupid.”

Marcus stepped closer, hands half raised in defense. “No, no—hear us out.” Ajax leaned in dramatically. “Group blind date.”

Silas stared at them both for a beat. Then another.

“...Absolutely not.” He stood up immediately.

By the time Marcus lunged forward, grabbing his shoulder, Silas had already started moving toward the hallway. “You have to come,” Marcus insisted, half laughing. “You don’t even know who’s going yet—”

Silas stopped just long enough to glance over his shoulder. “Tell me the truth, and I’ll consider it.”

Ajax sighed like he’d been waiting for this moment all his life. “We wanna set you up with a girl.”

Silas didn’t even respond.

He just walked faster.

---

Somehow, “walking faster” turned into “being dragged out of a luxury penthouse and into a situation he clearly wanted no part of.”

Now, later that evening, the three of them stood outside a café that looked like it belonged on a magazine cover. Warm golden lights glowed through large glass windows, reflecting off clean pavement and neatly arranged outdoor tables. Inside, the place was stylish but not intimidating—soft music, the smell of coffee and dessert, and groups of people already seated in small clusters that looked suspiciously arranged.

Silas stood with his hands in his pockets, expression unreadable but clearly unenthused. Marcus and Ajax flanked him like they were escorting a very reluctant king.

Inside, across the room, {{user}} was going through the exact same situation—just from a different direction.

She hadn’t wanted this either.

It had started with a vague invitation, then turned into “it’ll be fun,” and somehow ended with her being convinced to show up at a group blind date she never agreed to emotionally. Now she stood just outside the entrance for a second longer than necessary, as if delaying would somehow cancel the entire event.

It didn’t.

Inside, the café was already filling with soft conversation and awkward introductions. Her friends tried to reassure her with nervous smiles, but she barely responded. Blind dates meant expectations. Expectations meant pressure. And pressure meant she already wanted to leave. Still, she walked in.

"Smile a little you look prettier and approachable that way." Layla whispered to {{user}}'s ear.

Charlotte looked at {{user}}'s outfit with happiness. "I always choose the best outfits, don't I?"

A few minutes later, Silas was seated across from her with their friends next to them waiting for anyone to say anything.

Not because either of them chose it.

But because somehow, in a room designed for “random connection,” the world had decided to be annoyingly precise.