Somadina

Adina's POV

"Urgh, what an absolute waste of handsome" Felícia exhaled dramatically, her gaze locked on one particular male as he stood, slung his bag over his shoulder, and left the hall. The ever-present scowl on his face remained intact, like it had been etched there by fate. It was almost artful how annoyed and gorgeous he looked at the same time.

"Tell me something we don't all know," Greg chimed in, his eyes also trailing the same guy.

I shot Greg a look, but he only shrugged and grinned. "What? I might be straight, but even I can admire beauty"

A second later, the weight of his words hit him, and his expression morphed into an awkward grimace.

"Ah, great. Now I sound way less straight than I thought"

Felícia and I burst into laughter, unable to hold it in.

"Yeah, whatever" Greg rolled his eyes but couldn't stop a smirk from tugging at the corners of his lips. "Still, we can all agree—Zachary Stone is not your average-looking guy."

That much, I had to admit, was undeniably true.

Felícia snorted. "Too bad that attitude of his is the biggest turn-off. I've been in this school for years now, and I swear I've never seen him smile. Not once!"

Another thing we all silently agreed on.

Greg sighed. "Yeah, but being a genius has a way of compensating for a bad personality. If I had even half his brain—"

"Be careful what you wish for, Greggy." Felícia cut him off with a sly grin, using the nickname that always drove him up the wall. "Your head wasn't exactly built to handle genius-level intelligence."

Greg groaned. "Hey!"

And just like that, their usual bickering kicked off. Honestly, did they ever get tired? I doubted that honestly. Watching them spar verbally every day for two years, I knew they never did. Much to my annoyance.

I stood quietly, leaving them to their squabbling. They probably wouldn't even notice I was gone. Sure enough, Felícia and Greg remained completely absorbed in their argument as I slipped out of the theater hall.

I headed toward my usual sanctuary—the rooftop. With no more classes on my schedule today, I was free to disappear for a bit.

When I reached the roof, the crisp air greeted me, cool against my skin, making goosebumps rise in response. I walked to the edge and rested my arms on the rail, taking in the view.

Hungary was truly a beautiful country—small but stunning. One of the reasons I had chosen to study here instead of New York, as my father had suggested.

But as I stood there, my thoughts drifted to painful memories I had tried to bury. I clenched my fists on the rail, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. I was so lost in thought that I didn't notice I wasn't alone.

"You know," a deep, unfamiliar voice said from behind me, "if you're planning to jump, at least wait until I leave."

I spun around, startled, and found myself face to face with none other than Zachary Stone—the guy we'd been gossiping about just minutes ago.

"Sorry, what?" I managed to choke out.

He sighed, exuding boredom, and fully turned to face me. "I said, if you're going to jump, do it when I'm gone, okay?" His voice carried a faint accent, and he spoke as if addressing a child.

I'd heard rumors about Zachary being an asshole, but this? This was next-level.

Sure, he was gorgeous—very gorgeous, if I was being honest—but there were limits to how far good looks could carry you.

His skin was a warm, rich tone, suggesting mixed heritage, though I knew for a fact that he had Nigerian roots, there we too many rumors and alongside evidence concerning it. His dark curls, slightly tousled like he'd run his hands through them too many times, sat perfectly atop his head.

I huffed and turned back to the city view. "I'm not suicidal, thank you very much"

"If you say so." His tone was flat, almost dismissive, and silence stretched between us.

The quiet eventually became unbearable, and I couldn't help myself. "You're an asshole, you know that, right, Zachary?"

To my surprise, he let out a quiet laugh. "Well, that's the first time anyone's said it to my face"

I gave him a sweet, mock-innocent smile. "There's always a first time for everything."

A faint grin tugged at the corner of his mouth—subtle, but there. "How do you know my name?" he asked instead of responding to my jab.

I snorted. "Oh, don't be modest. Everyone knows who you are." I leaned away from the rail and threw my arms out dramatically. "The great Zachary Stone, the genius who's won countless awards and medals for the school. The dean practically worships you, and all the professors act like you're a reincarnated Viking hero. And let's not forget, you're the best student in our department."

He raised an eyebrow. "Our department?"

"Yes," I deadpanned. "We're both in the business department. We even take the same courses"

Why was I telling him all this? Not like he cared. Zachary Stone didn't give a damn about anyone. He didn't have friends—except maybe his sister, Irene, the only person he ever seemed to interact with.

It was sad, really.

Though, if I was being honest, the saddest part was that I knew all this. I sounded like a creepy stalker. But I wasn't—I swear. I was just... curious. There was something about him that intrigued me, like a puzzle begging to be solved. Maybe it was the sadness I often glimpsed in his eyes. Or maybe it was just... him.

"Same courses, huh?" His response was deadpan, matching the energy.

"Not that it matters." I waved it off.

I couldn't believe I was having a conversation with Zachary Stone on the rooftop. Life really was full of surprises.

Glancing at my watch, I realized I had somewhere to be. "Well, as fun as this has been, I have to go."

"You called me an asshole. I wouldn't exactly call this 'fun.'" His amused eyebrow lift made me grin.

"Fair point," I conceded, turning toward the door.

As I walked away, I almost tripped over nothing—classic me. Somehow, I managed to catch myself before falling flat on my face.

Great. Of all the times to be clumsy, it had to be in front of him.

"Wait," Zachary called out just as I reached the door.

I turned back to face him. "What?"

"Your name" he said, a faint smirk on his lips. "What's your name?"

The fact that he wanted to know my name caught me off guard. The more I talked to him, the more curious I became.

After a brief pause, I answered, "Somadina. But just call me Adina—it's easier for both of us"

"Adina," he repeated softly, as if testing how it felt on his tongue.

And then, to my utter shock, a smile—small, but unmistakable—spread across his face.

"See you around, Adina"

At that moment, I had no idea just how true those words would be. We would, in fact, be seeing a lot more of each other.