I can’t believe this—I’m late for my first class on my first day!

Wait... I don’t even know my timetable.

Panic surges through me as I rush through the halls, dodging students left and right. The school is massive, with tall glass windows letting in the morning sunlight, reflecting off the polished floors. The walls are lined with bulletin boards filled with club announcements and posters, but I don’t have time to take them in. My heart pounds as I weave through the crowd, finally skidding to a stop in front of the counselor’s office.

Taking a deep breath, I knock on the door, trying to compose myself.

The office is neat and organized, with shelves stacked with files and a large wooden desk sitting in the center. The counselor, a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes, looks up from her papers, her expression polite but tinged with disappointment.

“You must be Arias, the new student?” she says. “Welcome. Please try to be more particular about timing from now on.”

I nod quickly, gripping the timetable she hands me. The sound of faint whispers behind me makes my face heat up. I mumble a quiet “thank you” before making my escape.

By the time I find my classroom, most of the seats are already filled. The room is bright, the walls decorated with subject-related posters, and the large windows offer a view of the courtyard below. I slip into an empty seat at the back, pulling out my notebook.

Okay, new school, fresh start. Just concentrate.

But no matter how hard I try, my mind keeps drifting back to that annoyingly smug, ridiculously handsome guy—Zyran.

---

The bell rings, snapping me out of my thoughts.

Students begin shuffling out, chatting as they head toward the cafeteria. I follow them, taking in the sprawling campus on the way. The cafeteria is huge, with rows of tables filling the space. The scent of food lingers in the air—freshly baked bread, something spicy, and an overwhelming mix of different flavors. Students are laughing, talking, and forming their usual groups.

I grab an empty seat near the window, letting my bag drop onto the table. The view outside shows the sports field, students milling about, some kicking a soccer ball around. But I barely pay attention as I pull out his notebooks.

That’s when I notice the slip of paper again—Zyran’s number.

Why the hell did he even give me his number?

I think about texting him but shake my head. Nope. Not happening. Instead, I decide to just get his homework over with.

It doesn’t take me long—except for math. God, I hate math. Why does a music student even need to study this? It’s not like I’ll be singing about theorems when I grow up.

Once I’m finally done, I sigh and pull out my phone. Against my better judgment, I text him.

Me: Your homework’s done. Don’t make this a habit.

Giraffe 🖕🏻: Good boy. I knew you’d listen.

Me: Yeah, never mind. Not doing this again.

Giraffe 🖕🏻: Sure. Just pay me $3500 instead.

Me: F*ck you.

Giraffe 🖕🏻: Oh? Didn’t know you were that eager. Finish my assignments as usual, and we’ll talk. Bye for now—I’ll expect my homework to be done tomorrow too.

I freeze, staring at the screen.

My face flushes. I wasn’t eager! What the hell??

I groan, shoving my phone into my pocket. God, what have I gotten myself into?