1
"I don't know about you, but I really can't follow what he's saying," Rose sighs, adding more notes to her page.
"We're in our third year now; you'd think we'd be used to it," I reply, not wanting to argue. These macroeconomics lectures have the same effect on our entire class—they put everyone to sleep.
"Even the biggest economics enthusiast couldn’t stay awake through this boring lecture," she says, pulling a face.
"Exactly."
Rose and I didn't choose economics out of a love for the subject. We both enrolled because we were searching for what to do next with our lives.
Becoming an economist was never my plan, much less a dream. I’m here in London because of a bad experience in Brazil and a need for a change of scenery. On the surface, I’m here for school, and lately, I’ve almost convinced myself that’s true.
I once dreamed of a successful acting career, and for a time, it seemed within reach. By the age of seventeen, I had already been involved in several projects, including five feature films. My name appeared on lists like "Ten Promising Young Actors in Brazil," and critics predicted a bright future for me. But things took a harsh turn, and now, hardly anyone remembers the once-promising actress Bruna Alvarez. Everything fell apart just before I turned eighteen, and I gave up on my dream for good.
I moved to England mainly because of my mother’s stories about her university years here. She always spoke about that time with such fondness that I wanted to experience it for myself. We lived here when I was younger, and part of me never left this magical country. I came back hoping to find what I had lost at home.
I chose to study economics simply because it was so different from anything I had done before. It seemed like the easiest way to start over, to leave my past behind.
"I’m so glad to be out of that hellhole! Finally, a fresh breeze to blow the academic ashes off my pristine white shirt," Rose sings as we step out of the university building.
"Your metaphors never fail to impress me!" I laugh in response.
Rose and I have known each other for three years now. Thinking back to when I first moved to London, I can still feel that mix of excitement and anxiety. The university didn’t provide housing, so I had to find a place to live. Rose was renting a room on the outskirts of the city at the time.
When she came across my desperate ad, she didn’t hesitate to offer me her spare room. Her previous roommate had just moved in with her boyfriend, leaving Rose in a tough spot—splitting the rent had been essential for her. I agreed without a second thought. Since then, our lives have been intertwined, and for three years now, we’ve shared not only an apartment but also all the ups and downs of living together. We clicked right away, and our shared space has become something much more meaningful.
"So, how are you celebrating your birthday?" Rose asks, running her fingers through her blonde hair as she looks at me.
"Honestly, I’m not planning to. I can’t go back to Brazil, and here, it’s just you and Kyle, so there’s no point in throwing a big party," I shrug.
"No way! I’m not letting you sit around and mope on your birthday! The fact that you have me is reason enough to celebrate properly," she declares proudly.
"I really appreciate that, but I’m fine with spending my twenty-first in our cozy apartment."
"Perfect," she says, rolling her eyes.
I just smile, knowing she won’t rest until she’s pulled off whatever she has in mind. Last time, she showed up with a cake, candles, and a bottle of champagne. We had a lovely evening and then went to bed. I wouldn’t mind doing the same this year. As you get older, birthdays start to feel like just another day, and I’ve realized that all too soon.
I’m thrilled that tomorrow’s a day off, which means I can finally sleep in. Plus, it’s my birthday, so I’m really hoping Rose won’t wake me up. That would be the best gift she could give me, as she can be a bit too energetic at times.
"Happy birthday-y-y-y!" Rose bursts into my room, kicking the door open.
"What are you talking about? My birthday’s tomorrow!" I say, looking at her in confusion.
"Check the time!" she says, raising an eyebrow.
I quickly glance at my laptop screen. It’s already past midnight—I didn’t even notice.
"See what a good friend I am? I managed to wish you a happy birthday before you even realized it was here," Rose grins, sitting down on my bed. I hug her and thank her for the early wishes.
"Now get dressed, we’re going out to celebrate!" she chirps excitedly. I don’t like the mischievous gleam in her eyes.
"I’m not going anywhere! What are you talking about?" I say, completely bewildered.
"You are! Kyle invited me to a party tonight. And in honor of your birthday, he promised to get you a cake. You have to come!"
"Rose, you’re crazy!" I say, smiling as I accept my fate.
"And you’re lucky to have me! Kyle will be here in an hour to pick us up, so be ready."
Turning down the offer would be rude, and besides, Rose can be very persuasive. I get out of my warm bed and open the closet. My eyes immediately land on the green dress I bought recently. It’s perfect—Rose will have no trouble spotting me in any crowd.
"I love your eyeliner!" Rose exclaims as she moves closer to get a better look.
"It’s a bit different, but I like it too!" I thank her for the compliment, and we finally head out of the apartment.
It took us over an hour to get ready, so by the time we step outside, Kyle’s black Mercedes is already waiting.
"Even though you’ve aged a year, you still look good," is the first thing I hear as I get into the car.
One thing I appreciate about Kyle is his sense of humor—his puns always make me laugh.
"As witty as ever!" Rose remarks, tugging at her dress in vain. It’s just too short.
"So, Bruna, are you ready for the best night of your life?" Kyle winks at me before turning his attention back to the road and starting the car.
"Only if you can guarantee it."
I met Kyle Evans through Rose. They crossed paths at a student party when she was sixteen, and they’ve kept in touch ever since. Though I still don’t understand how she ended up at that party—Kyle was never a student. Honestly, I don’t really know what he does for a living; he’s not one to share much about his personal life. Despite his easygoing nature and constant jokes, Kyle is a pretty private person. He has boundaries that no one is allowed to cross.
Their friendship has always seemed a bit odd. There’s this constant flirtation between them that never goes beyond that. Maybe it’s just their unique way of being friends, but it’s something I find hard to grasp. Friendship, to me, looks different.
"Admit it, you’re never going to forget this night!" Kyle leans back on the couch, taking a sip from his red cup filled with some strong-smelling drink.
"Without a doubt!" I laugh. "I haven’t been thrown into the air like that since third grade! I tried to escape, but there was no way they were letting me go without those twenty-one tosses."
"He’s here! We need to get out of here, now!" a guy shouts, and suddenly, everyone starts scrambling.
Kyle grabs my hand and pulls me along with him. I follow without protest, but we get separated in the chaos, and I lose sight of him. I push my way through the crowd, heading for the exit. Once I’m outside, I finally manage to catch my breath. I spot Kyle’s car and make my way toward it. Apparently, I’m the only one who has no clue what’s going on. Who is this “he” everyone’s so afraid of?
"Stop!" A raspy voice calls out from behind me, making me jump. I should probably hurry up.
"Oh, darling, no need to rush," the owner of the voice says, grabbing my arm and turning me to face him.
The enchanting glow of the streetlights highlights his sharp features, giving him an air of mystery. His gaze is intense, like he’s someone who knows the secrets of the night and carries them in his soul. The darkness suits him.
"You’ve got thirty seconds to explain what you’re doing here and who set all this up."
