The runway heart

Nyla

I never imagined my life would turn out like this—completely devoid of purpose. I used to be a scholar and a renowned, title-winning boxer. But letting the sport go hit me harder than anything else ever could. Without it, I didn't know who I was.

As for my studies? I didn't truly care about them. I only pursued my thesis to keep my parents happy, a convenient shield to hide the fact that I was completely lost. Boxing had been my entire existence, and now that it was gone, I felt hollow.

It was that exact feeling of emptiness that followed me into the auditorium. I was only there because of my thesis research, completely tuned out while everyone around me gushed about the keynote speaker. I hadn't even bothered to change after a brutal gym session, leaving me looking like a total wreck in a room full of professionals.

"What are you wearing?" Shane whispered, obviously picking up on my disheveled state. He had been my best friend since childhood—practically since eternity.

Attempting to look like I had been paying attention from the start, I quickly pulled out my notepad and pen before anyone else noticed. But my usual clumsiness betrayed me. The pen slipped from my fingers and rolled away. Grumbling, I pushed back from my chair and dropped to the floor to retrieve it.

Ah, fish! Got it. As I grabbed the pen and began to stand up, I noticed a pair of shoes right in front of me. I raised my eyes, and my movements ground to a screeching halt.

"Where were you?" the man asked, his tone demanding, as if I were somehow accountable to him.

I bristled. "None of your business," I muttered under my breath, dismissing him with a scowl as I sat back down, pretending I didn't have a care in the world.

A minute later, the intermission ended. The master of ceremonies took the stage, welcoming our next speaker: David.

Flags of heat immediately scorched my cheeks, and a tremor flashed through my body. After a moment of internal wallowing, I forced myself to straighten up and listen carefully. It was him. The very man I had been annoyed with just seconds ago was now standing at the podium. I cursed silently. For the next half hour, he held the entire room captive, and we all obliged, listening to every word.

The moment the session ended, I bolted toward the stage, determined to apologize for my rudeness. But in my haste, I literally collided with him.

David caught me by the arms to steady us both. "I'm so sorry," I muttered breathlessly. Before he could even respond to whatever he was starting to say, I turned and fled. I simply didn't have the courage to endure any more embarrassment.

Exhaustion tugged heavily at my eyelids. Instead of bolting for the exit and the comfort of my bed, I made a sharp left toward the elevator. I knew I should go straight to my room to finish my research work, but I decided a quick detour wouldn't hurt. The conference was being held in the town's most renowned luxury hotel. It was massive, filled with that distinct, expensive signature scent unique to high-end resorts.

I wandered into the lounge just as high tea was transitioning into happy hour. Deciding to treat myself, I hopped into a seat. It wasn’t the kind of place I could afford to visit every day.

Suddenly, my pulse leapt into my throat.

There he was. David.

My heart flickered violently. Normally, I didn't care when people looked at me, but with him, everything felt different. He was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him. Thick black hair framed features that looked straight out of a movie. Dark eyes and sculpted cheekbones sloped down to a sharp, square jawline. He was almost intimidating, yet a quirky, subtle smile made him seem entirely approachable.

My heart tingled with sudden awareness as he bypassed the other tables and walked straight toward mine. I tried to look away, to ignore him, but he was impossible to miss.

"Can I sit here?" he asked, his voice easy and smooth.

David’s brow lifted a fraction, and I realized with a jolt that I’d been so focused on the rich cadence of his voice that I hadn’t actually answered him yet.

"Uh, yes. Go ahead," I managed.

By the time I next looked at the clock, it was already eight in the evening. But I didn’t want to leave—not yet. We had been talking for two hours, and the conversation flowed with surprising ease, even though I occasionally struggled to catch a few words due to his distinct accent.

During a brief lull, an awkward silence settled between us. It was surreal sitting across from a man I had cursed out during our very first interaction, completely unaware he was the esteemed speaker and not just another annoying student.

"So, do you come here often?" he asked, his tone perfectly neutral.

"No, not at all," I replied, clearing my throat. "I just thought I'd explore the place a bit before I leave."

He leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "So, where do you go often?

I took a slow step back and caught my breath. A strange warmth bloomed in my chest. He wants to know about me. That realization alone was a jarring first. I wasn't used to this kind of directness. Where I came from, people didn't lay their intentions out so plainly; they took their time, playing safe, careful games. But David’s gaze was entirely unfiltered.

I found myself simply staring at him for a few long moments, lost in the weight of his attention, until the silence stretched long enough that he tilted his head in question.

"Sorry," I muttered, shaking myself out of the trance. "I was just thinking about something." I swallowed hard, trying to anchor myself. "I don’t really have a specific spot. I usually just go out for night sessions with my girls—hitting up the nearby pubs and cafes."

Desperate for something to do with my hands, I picked up my cocktail and drained the rest of it. I lightly tapped the rim of my empty glass against his in a silent, impromptu toast, looking for a casual exit. But as I set the glass down, David reached forward at the exact same moment.

Our fingers brushed.

A sudden electric current shot up my spine, vibrating just beneath my skin. My breath hitched, trapping the air in my lungs. It was an overwhelming, terrifying sensation—something I had never experienced with anyone before. Panic flared beneath the attraction. I didn't want to stay here anymore; the feeling was too big, too unfamiliar.

Besides, logic finally kicked in. He wasn't my peer. Even though his features were youthful and striking, he carried himself with the heavy, grounded confidence of someone years older than me. And worse—he was the damn keynote speaker of the event. He belonged with the university faculty and the distinguished guests, not hiding away in a dimly lit lounge with a disheveled student.

The spell snapped. Reality rushed back, cold and sharp.

"I have to go," I blurted out, the words hurried and breathless.

Before he could offer a response or try to stop me, I scraped my chair back, turned on my heel, and practically fled the lounge, leaving the warmth of his gaze behind in the shadows.