Don’t Flirt with the Heartthrob

Sierra Avelino’s Guide to Surviving High School: 1. Lay low. 2. Stay invisible. 3. Avoid attention at all costs—especially from hot guys with jawlines sharp enough to slice your pride. But apparently, life at Eastwood High International had other plans for me. --- 7:45 AM First day. New school. New uniform that made me look like a walking toothpaste ad. The skirt was too long, the ID lace kept strangling me, and my socks were already rebelling by rolling down my ankles. But I had one thing going for me: iced coffee. My one true love. My emotional support beverage. I was walking through the main gates, earphones in, telling myself: “This year, no chaos. Just peace. Study hard. Focus. No distractions.” Then—BOOM. I tripped. On air. Or gravity. Or maybe my own existence. And just like in the movies, my iced coffee flew out of my hand in slow motion, twirling in the air like a ballerina with a death wish. It landed—spectacularly—on someone’s white shirt. The coffee soaked straight through. I gasped. “Oh my—!” He turned around. Tall. Sharp jaw. Cold stare. Broad shoulders. And the worst part? He looked familiar. “Kael,” someone whispered nearby, like the name was sacred. “Oh my god, that’s Kael Narciso!” Kael. Narciso. The one and only. Basketball varsity captain. t****k sensation. Secretly a model for some Korean brand. The reason 60% of the female population at Eastwood skipped breakfast. And I just turned his shirt into a caramel macchiato. --- He looked at me. Then down at his shirt. Then back up. Slowly. I panicked. My fight-or-flight response? Apparently, it chose SLAP. SMACK. Right across his cheek. Time froze. Students stared. A cat meowed judgmentally in the background. --- “Did you just slap me?” he asked, blinking. I stepped back, horrified. “I—I thought you were gonna yell at me!” He raised an eyebrow. “So you... slapped me preemptively?” “I’m sorry! I don’t do well under pressure!” Silence. Then... he laughed. Not the fake social media laugh. It was real. Warm. Rough. His shoulders even shook a little. “Wow. First time someone’s assaulted me with both coffee and violence before 8 a.m.” I covered my face. “I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for dry cleaning. Or burn in embarrassment. Whatever’s easier.” “No need,” he said, smirking. “But you owe me.” “Owe you...?” “Another coffee.” He leaned in just enough to make my heartbeat betray me. “Tomorrow. Same time. Same place.” Then he walked away like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just get drenched and slapped and flirt all in five minutes. --- I stood there frozen, hand still in the air, like I was stuck in buffering mode. Around me, whispers started spreading like wildfire: “Who’s the new girl?” “She slapped Kael?!” “Did he just smile at her?” “Is that how you get his attention?!”