Chapter 1
I crumpled the nearest sheet of paper and hurled it at him. It smacked him squarely on the back of the head. I smirked, proud of my aim. Serves him right. A wave of satisfaction washed over me—finally, a small act of justice. That’s what he gets. You’ve got to stand up for yourself, after all.
But then he turned around.
The look in his eyes stopped me cold. It wasn’t anger, or even confusion—it was something else entirely. The smug, infuriating guy I used to cry over, the one who kept me up at night with his insults and indifference, was gone. In his hands, he held the paper I’d thrown.
Wait. What was written on that?
Oh no.
Not that note.
My stomach dropped. I remembered now—that was the love letter. The one I’d written weeks ago and hidden in my notebook. Not just any love letter, either. It was for a guy I’d crushed on for six whole months. Someone I’d never even talked to. I’d poured my heart onto that page, written every unsaid feeling I’d buried deep inside.
And now this jerk had read it.
Why was he staring at me like that? Sure, he read my confession—but it wasn’t meant for him. I scowled. Turn around. Stop gawking.
And then it hit me—a slow, horrifying realization.
The guy I liked… and this idiot… had the same name.
Unbelievable.
Of all the rotten luck.
I was doomed.
My best friend, who’s studying to be a psychologist, always says you should find the bright side in moments like this. But seriously—where the hell was the bright side here?
I couldn’t concentrate in class. My mind kept replaying the scene again and again. What would happen now? I had to get the note back. Maybe I could talk to him during the next lecture’s break.
As soon as the bell rang, I bolted. Stuffed everything into my bag, nearly left my phone behind, and wrinkled my notes in the process. I’d need superhero speed to catch up to Gavin—he walked like he was being chased.
“Stop! I said stop! Gavin!” I gasped as I finally caught up to him in the corridor.
He turned, smirking. “Clearly, sports aren’t your thing.”
There it was—his signature mocking tone. Gavin was that kind of guy: athletic, straight-A student, practically worshipped by the student council. Not conventionally hot, maybe, but impossible to ignore. Girls swooned. Guys admired him. I, however, found him unbearable.
“Give me back the note,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.
“What note? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replied with faux innocence.
“The one I threw at you in class. It wasn’t for you. Please return it.”
“Oh, that one,” he said casually. “Nah, I don’t feel like it.”
Excuse me?! I stared at him, stunned.
“Gavin, I’m serious.” I darted in front of him, blocking his path. “That note wasn’t for you. It was meant for someone else—with the same name. Yes, it was a love confession, but not for you. I don’t like you at all. Just… give it back.”
I held out my hand, palm open.
“Well,” he said, shrugging, “you brought this on yourself. Why’d you throw it at me?”
“You provoked me! You called me a know-it-all, and you know that’s not true.”
“Okay, fair point,” he said.
Then he reached into his backpack and pulled something out. I frowned. A business card?
“English Tutor…”
What?
“You’re studying to be a translator, right? But your grammar’s a disaster,” he said smoothly. “I’m offering to help. Big discount. Special offer—just for you.”
Before I could respond, he pulled out the crumpled note and handed it over. I opened it—and nearly collapsed. It wasn’t the love letter. It was my English assignment. Full of errors. Covered in red ink.
“So… your crush is my namesake?” he said, musing aloud. “Let’s see. There’s only one other guy here named Gavin… the student council president. Aiming high, huh?”
“That’s none of your business,” I muttered. I was mortified.
“I’ll be honest—you don’t stand a chance.”
“While there’s life, there’s hope.”
He snorted. “Naive. Don’t give me cheesy lines. Be realistic. Anyway, I’m off. Go study some English.”
And just like that, he walked off, leaving me stunned in the hallway.
* * *
I sprawled on the couch with popcorn and a K-drama playing on my laptop. My roommates weren’t home, so I had the place to myself.
Renting a house together had turned out to be one of the best decisions we’d made. We ran like a well-oiled machine—cleaning, laundry, meals, all on a shared schedule. We clicked instantly. The adjustment phase lasted a week, maybe less. It had been six months now, and we were practically family.
Maya was the future psychologist—calm, rational, and always the voice of reason. Naomi, studying interior design, was the sunshine—spontaneous and outgoing. And me? I had a pessimistic streak a mile wide. But the girls had helped. Slowly, they were turning me into someone who actually believed things could go right. Naomi’s parties had even dragged me into the social world. Sometimes.
The front door opened. Maya walked in, tossed her bag down, and spotted me on the couch.
“No. Don’t tell me you’re watching a K-drama,” she said, narrowing her eyes as she tied up her black hair.
“Yes,” I said flatly.
“On your ten-point depression scale, that’s an eight. What happened?”
She plopped into the armchair across from me. I told her everything.
“I’m not even surprised,” she said, shaking her head. “That is so you.”
“What?! Are you calling me a loser right now?” I snapped my laptop shut.
“No. I’m calling you predictable,” she said, folding into a lotus pose.
“Right now, I need a friend. Not a therapist.”
“Sorry. But think about it. Gavin’s been a jerk for months, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, today was different. Am I wrong?”
“Different how?” I frowned.
“He didn’t mock you. He helped you. Sort of. That’s not typical. Maybe he’ll back off now. You can finally move on. And next time—watch where you throw your love letters. You’ve watched too many dramas. Reality’s calling.”
“Fair enough,” I sighed.
The doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” I said, slipping on shoes and grabbing my jacket.
I walked through the small yard and opened the gate.
There he was.
Gavin.
Red puffer jacket, boots, no hat—like a reckless idiot. My personal disaster in human form.
“Um… hi again. What are you doing here?”
“Not what. Who.”
“Who?”
“Naomi.”
“She’s not home.”
“I’ll wait.”
What?! I let him in, confusion mounting. Why did he want Naomi?
He entered like he owned the place—shoes off, coat hung up, and made himself comfortable right beside my laptop.
“Lainey, who’s at the door?” Maya called from the kitchen.
“It’s Gavin!” I yelled back.
A moment later, she appeared in the living room, eyeing him with interest. She didn’t know him personally—just by reputation.
“Hi,” she said, already charmed.
“Hey. Do you know when Naomi will be back?”
“In about ten minutes,” she guessed.
“Great.”
“Want tea? Coffee?” she offered.
“No, thanks,” he said, still pretending I didn’t exist.
Just then, the front door opened.
Naomi stepped inside, pulling off her hat and shaking out her ash-blonde hair. She slipped off her boots, looked around with her sky-blue eyes, and smiled.
“Everyone’s home—how lovely. Hi, big brother!” she beamed.
She darted over and threw her arms around him. He rose to meet her hug, and she kissed him on the cheek.
I blinked. “What?!”
“She’s your sister? No way! You two cannot be related. That’s impossible. You’re like water and gasoline.”
Silence.
Everyone stared at me.
I wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
