out of my league

(Kaitlyn's POV)** The smell of motor oil and exhaust fumes was more comforting to me than any fancy perfume. My world revolved around the roar of engines, the stubbornness of a rusted bolt, and the satisfaction of bringing something broken back to life. Tanaka's Garage wasn't much to look at – a cramped space tucked away in a less gentrified corner of Queens – but it was ours. Mine and Ma's. And it was the steady beat in the sometimes chaotic rhythm of my life in New York City. Wiping grease-stained hands on my well-worn jeans, I squinted at the recalcitrant engine of a beat-up pickup. College textbooks lay scattered on a nearby toolbox, open to stress analysis diagrams that felt a million miles away from the gritty reality in front of me. Engineering wasn't just about theories; it was about how things worked, how they broke, and how to fix them with calloused hands and a bit of ingenuity. "Kai! You gonna stand there all day philosophizin' at that poor truck, or you gonna get it runnin'?" Ma's voice, sharp but laced with affection, cut through the garage din. She was under a Ford, her own hands equally blackened, a stray strand of hair escaping her practical bun. Ma was the backbone of this operation, her knowledge of cars as deep and intricate as any textbook. She'd had to be, after Da... well, after he left. A familiar clench tightened in my chest. The memory of his face, a mask of disgust and fear the day I was born, was a shadow that still flickered at the edges of my mind. Ma never spoke of it, but the unspoken hung heavy between us – the reason we were a team of two, facing the world on our own in this sprawling city. "Almost got it, Ma," I grunted, reaching for a wrench. My focus narrowed, the familiar puzzle of gears and pistons absorbing my attention. This was my world: tangible, demanding, and honest. The world across the East River, the one with towering university buildings overlooking Central Park and sleek boutiques lining Fifth Avenue, felt like another planet entirely. A planet I had no business visiting. Later that evening, after the last car had been fixed and the garage swept clean, I sat hunched over my textbooks at our small kitchen table in our Astoria apartment. The elevated train rumbled past periodically, shaking the window and punctuating the silence broken only by the scratching of my pen and the occasional sigh. The scholarship helped with my tuition at City College, but it didn't cover everything. The garage did. My calloused hands, more accustomed to tools than pens, ached. A news report flickered on the small TV in the corner, showing images of students laughing on a pristine university campus, all green lawns and grand architecture – likely NYU or Columbia. They looked carefree, their biggest worry probably an upcoming exam or a social event in the West Village. A world away from the knot of anxiety that always seemed to reside in my stomach as I juggled studies and work. "Everything alright, Kai?" Ma asked softly, placing a mug of tea beside me. I nodded, forcing a smile. "Just tired. This thermodynamics is trying to melt my brain." She squeezed my shoulder, her touch rough but comforting. "You'll get it, kiddo." Looking back at my books, I couldn't shake the image of those students. So different. So... out of my league. It wasn't a thought filled with bitterness, just a simple observation of two realities that seemed destined to remain separate in this vast urban landscape. Little did I know, the universe had a different kind of equation in mind. One that involved a chance encounter with someone from that very different world, someone named Sera. And it would start with something as mundane as a broken air conditioning unit in a stifling Upper East Side apartment.