Chapter 1: The First Encounter

It was the kind of spring morning that only California could offer—sunlight filtered through palm trees, a cool breeze wafted across the sprawling campus of Pacific West University, and students filled the main quad with laughter and idle chatter. But none of that mattered to Samantha Lee, who stood frozen near the steps of the liberal arts building, clutching a stack of freshly printed flyers with the words “Join the Film Society!” emblazoned in bold font.

Her mission was simple: hand out the flyers, recruit at least ten new members, and report back to Professor Dales before 4 p.m. Easy, right?

Except there was a problem.

No one wanted to stop. No one even made eye contact. It was like trying to sell Girl Scout cookies to gym rats during keto season.

She sighed and adjusted her ponytail, ready to dive back into rejection territory, when a low rumble pierced through the soundscape of gossip and clacking skateboard wheels.

A sleek, matte-black Ducati Monster pulled up along the main walkway, engine purring like a predator stalking prey. Students paused. Heads turned. Conversations stopped mid-sentence. Samantha turned too, curiosity piqued.

The rider pulled off his helmet in slow motion, like some kind of anime entrance. Time felt like it froze.

Jet-black hair, tousled just enough to be sexy without trying. Strong jawline. Tanned skin kissed by California sun. Dark sunglasses that masked his eyes but couldn’t hide the aura of mystery and arrogance oozing from every pore.

Gasps.

Whispers.

“Who is that?”

“Oh my God… it’s him!”

Samantha blinked. "Him?"

The name was whispered like a legend carried by the breeze: Nathan Drake.

Twenty-two. Senior. Double major in finance and design. Track record of acing exams while skipping classes. Rumored to be the secret investor behind a local startup. Played piano like a god and spoke fluent French. The kind of guy who wouldn’t just date someone like Samantha—he wouldn’t even see her.

But then, the impossible happened.

He looked directly at her.

Nathan Drake—campus royalty, a man whose presence could quiet a whole crowd—was walking up the steps toward her. Samantha's heart stuttered. Her hands gripped the flyers so tightly they crumpled. Her brain screamed, Don’t stare. Don’t blush. Don’t—

"Film Society?" he asked, voice deep and smooth like a vinyl record.

Samantha blinked up at him. “Uh… y-yeah. We, uh, meet every Thursday at 6 p.m. We screen indie classics and sometimes make short films.”

Nathan took a flyer, glancing at it like it might bite him. “Cool. I’m into film.”

She stared, mouth slightly open. “You… are?”

He grinned. “What, don’t I look like a movie nerd?”

“No! I mean—yes! I mean—you look like… um…”

"Relax," he said, slipping the flyer into his jacket pocket. “I’ll drop by.”

And just like that, he walked off. Left her there, stunned and speechless, heart pounding like she’d just run a mile.

As his motorcycle roared back to life and vanished down the campus street, Samantha let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

The girls behind her were already gossiping.

“Did you see that?”

“He talked to her.”

“Who even is she?”

Suddenly, Samantha felt every eye on her. But for once, it wasn’t because she was invisible.