Are You Into Me?
Chapter One:
Riaya--
“Are you into me, Riaya?
The words hit me like a ton of bricks, cutting through the golden silence of the fading afternoon. My chest tightened as I stared at him, stunned into stillness.
The late afternoon sun bathed the suburban streets of Ridgewood in a soft, golden glow. My house—a modest, white two-story with a neat lawn and flowerbeds—stood in stark contrast to the colonial mansion next door. Angel Daughtry’s home loomed large, with its dark brick façade, towering columns, and sprawling yard. It felt like it belonged to a completely different world, one I could only admire from afar.
Yet here Angel was, standing on my doorstep like he had every right to be here.
I clutched the edge of the door, trying to steady myself.
“What are you doing here?” My voice was steadier than my racing heart.
Angel ran a hand through his tousled brown hair, his lips quirking into a hesitant smile.
“I—uh, thought I’d drop by. Is that okay?” I hesitated, my mind scrambling to understand why he was here.
“Sure,” I said finally, stepping aside. “I was about to head to the backyard. Want to join me?”
The question felt surreal as it left my lips. We hadn’t spoken in years—not since middle school when he decided I was bad for his image. And now he was here, in my space, acting like no time had passed.
As I led him through the house, I couldn’t ignore the nerves bubbling inside me. My home, with its cozy furniture and framed family photos, felt small and unremarkable next to the grandeur he was used to.
I smoothed my dress—a simple blue cotton that hugged my figure—and glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. His sharp jawline and those piercing blue eyes seemed out of place in my world.
We stepped into the backyard, our childhood sanctuary. The wooden swing swayed gently in the breeze, and the mismatched table and chairs still sat beneath the old oak tree.
This was where we’d shared secrets and dreams before everything fell apart.
“Remember this spot?” I asked, breaking the silence.
Angel’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Yeah. Feels like forever ago.”
We sat at the table, the space between us heavy with unspoken words. I couldn’t stop my heart from fluttering, but I buried the feeling deep. He had no right to reappear in my life and make me feel this way—not after how easily he cut me off.
Angel shifted in his chair, breaking the quiet. “So, um, I’ve been hearing things... about you.”
My stomach clenched. “What kind of things?”
He leaned forward, his gaze searching. “I heard you might have feelings for me. Is that true?”
The air left my lungs. I looked away, my eyes fixed on the grass. “Why would you ask that?”
“I don’t know,” he said, his tone almost defensive. “It just came up. We haven’t talked in years, and suddenly I hear... this. I didn’t t.”
I turned back to him, anger bubbling to the surface. “Why do you even care? You’re the one who cut ties with me back in middle school. Remember? You said I was bad for your image. I haven’t seen or talked to you in two years, so why now? What the hell, Angel?”
For a moment, he looked stunned. The confident boy I used to know faltered, his deep blue eyes flickering with something I couldn’t place—guilt, maybe? But it wasn’t enough.
“Riaya,” he said softly, as if my name alone could calm the storm he’d stirred.
“Are you into me?” He must have asked me that a million times yet, his voice pierced the fragile silence, forcing me to look at him. His eyes bore into mine, searching, daring me to admit a truth I’d buried so deep it felt like it belonged to someone else.
My cheeks burned. “Into you?”
Lame. So painfully lame.
Angel tilted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Alright, fine. I’ll just chalk it up to rumors.”
“Wait...Rumors?” My heart raced. Who would have told him? Only Kaya knew—Kaya, who I’d trusted with everything. No. She wouldn’t. Would she?
“Yeah.” Angel leaned in slightly, his tone playful but cutting. “Rumors that you’re obsessed with me. Totally head over heels.”
The world tilted, my chest tightening. “Relax, Yaya,” he murmured, stepping closer. His hand landed on my back, the warmth of his palm sending shivers down my spine. “It’s not a big deal.”
Yaya. The nickname I hadn’t heard in years. The one he used to say when he couldn’t pronounce my name as a kid. Hearing it now felt like a knife twisting in my chest.
I stepped back, breaking the contact. “Don’t call me that.”
Angel’s brow furrowed. “Why not?”
“Because it doesn’t mean anything coming from you anymore.” My voice cracked, betraying the wall I’d tried so hard to build. “You don’t get to come back into my life and act like nothing happened.”
“Riaya...” He reached out again, but I took another step back, desperate to protect the fragile pieces of my heart. “Talk to me.”
"What if I was?" The words escaped my lips before I could stop them, trembling and raw. My voice barely carried above the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. I peered at him from beneath my lashes, heart pounding as I tried to gauge his reaction.
Angel didn’t move. He didn’t blink. His blue eyes locked onto mine, the tension stretching between us, heavy and unbearable. For a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his gaze—something soft, unsure—but it disappeared as quickly as it had come.
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Each second felt like a lifetime. I waited, hoping for some sign of what he was thinking, anything to tell me he hadn’t just dragged my heart out of hiding for nothing.
But he said nothing. His lips parted, then closed again, as though the words wouldn’t come.
My stomach sank.
"Just forget it," I said, breaking the unbearable quiet. My voice cracked, and I forced a bitter laugh, willing myself to act indifferent. “It’s not like it matters anyway.”
I stood abruptly, brushing off invisible dust as I turned away. I couldn’t look at him any longer—not when my chest was tight with disappointment, not when my pride was bleeding out in the backyard where we once laughed and dreamed as kids.
"Riaya—" His voice stopped me, low and hesitant. But I couldn’t face him. Not now.
“Look,” I said, my back still to him. I clenched my fists at my sides, my nails biting into my palms to keep my composure. “I don’t have time for... whatever this is. Just go home, Angel. Go back to pretending I don’t exist.”
The words cut me even as I said them. Because deep down, I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t want him to pretend. I wanted him to stay, to explain why he cared enough to ask, to make sense of the chaos he’d stirred inside me.
But instead of saying any of that, I forced myself to laugh again, hollow and strained. “Why would I be into you?”
It was a pathetic attempt at saving face, and we both knew it.
Angel stared at me, his jaw tight, his hands flexing at his sides like he wanted to reach for me but didn’t know how. His eyes searched mine, as if trying to unravel the thoughts I’d buried so deep I didn’t even know how to untangle them myself.
“Forget I said anything,” he muttered finally, his tone clipped and almost defensive.
I bit my lip, willing myself not to react, not to let him see how much his dismissal hurt. “Gladly,” I replied, my voice sharp enough to cut through the thick tension between us.
He stepped back, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
I shook my head. “I need to help my mom with dinner,” I lied, the words tumbling out as I turned toward the house. “You should go.”
The weight of his gaze burned into my back as I walked away. My heart screamed at me to look back, but my pride wouldn’t let me.
I reached the door and slipped inside, shutting it firmly behind me. Only then did I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
Why did he have to come here? Why did he have to ask that?
And why did I have to care so much about what he thought?
