I Knew I Loved You

Chapter One

~ Heavy Rain and Whispers ~

Heavy rain poured as Rich drove me to Springtide University that morning. I wore a slightly damp black coat that clung to my body, seeking warmth. It gradually dried in the humid air, but it was time to part with it.

I took off my coat and looked around, taking in the exclusive school and its diverse students. Whispers, curses, and looks of disbelief filled the air as people noticed me.

"Is that Ada Rhyce?!"

Hearing my name made me grin. My reputation had preceded me. Boys nearby couldn't hide their fascination, staring at me, some even forgetting to blink. I enjoyed the attention, savoring the power it gave me.

But not everyone reacted the same. Some girls looked at me with disgust, their envy clear. They were threatened by my ability to flaunt my perfect body with just a tube bra and denim shorts. I knew their feelings well; many girls were jealous of my appearance.

Turning my attention to the man seated in front of me, I saw his intense gaze, a mix of furrowed brows, clenched jaws, and simmering anger. He seemed dissatisfied with what he saw beneath my coat, maybe even infuriated. My deduction was right; he was definitely gay.

Some boys were checking me out, and some girls looked jealous. But when I looked at him again, he looked away. Did I intimidate him too? That’s when I realized I was the center of attention, the one who won.

With my bag slung over my shoulder, I wore a sweet smile. It felt empowering to be the villain, basking in the glory of the moment. Maybe Rich was right—maybe I would enjoy being here after all.

I glanced again at the guy who had ruined my day. I winked at him, but he looked away. As if I cared about his opinion or reaction!

***

The building on the fifth floor of Springtide University was painted milk-white. Posters and announcements covered every door along the hallway. The atmosphere here was calm and quieter compared to my previous schools.

I smiled, feeling at home. There were probably reporters or famous vloggers lurking, eager to document my every move. By simply being here, I was doing them a favor. They could benefit from my nearly five million followers on Twitter and Inst*gr*m if they tagged me. I had no interest in posting anything on my feed today; let them do the work.

I quickly found my designated classroom and stepped inside, feeling like I was already live-streaming with a hundred thousand viewers. All eyes turned to me, curiosity mingling with whispers. I embraced the attention, relishing my novelty.

"Hi, Miss Beautiful. Are you the transfer student?" a guy greeted me immediately, adjusting his chair to face mine. Confidence radiated from him. He ran his hand through his freshly trimmed hair. His white polo shirt had the first two buttons undone, revealing his average build. Meanwhile, I divided my attention between him and my phone, where three unread messages from Rich awaited.

I looked at the guy with a stern expression before glancing back at my phone. In the distance, a group of guys were shouting and celebrating, catching my eye. I couldn't help but smile. Amidst this exchange, I caught a glimpse of someone entering the room. A familiar face. Oh, so we are in the same class. This is an intriguing twist. Then he glanced at me as he took a seat.

"Hi, I'm Jammy," the guy in front of me extended his hand, oblivious to my lack of interest. "What's your name?"

My gaze shifted to the person I had been captivated by moments ago. "Matilda," I introduced myself to Jammy, keeping my eyes on the enigmatic man. "My name is Matilda Rhyce."

"Nice name. Are you related to the owner of RFC? You know, Rhyce Food Corporation?" Jammy asked.

I answered without hesitation, "Oh, you mean the Rhyces? Those are my parents."

Jammy's eyes widened in astonishment. He seemed stunned. "R-really? You're the real Ada Rhyce? Sh*t! You're even more beautiful in person."

I remained silent, anticipating this reaction.

"Thorn!" a voice called out, and the guy I had been observing turned his head.

So, his name was Thorn.

As Thorn's gaze met mine again, I couldn't resist another glance. Even the person standing beside him caught my eye, leaving me wondering if they were discussing about me. Suddenly, my nonchalant demeanor crumbled, and I straightened up in my seat, abandoning my phone.

Why did I suddenly feel so self-conscious about my appearance? Nervously, I ran my fingers through my long, dark locks, letting them cascade over my bare shoulder. But as my attention returned to Thorn, I detected a flicker of anger in his eyes, his fist clenched tightly. What’s his problem? My heart sank as I realized this enigmatic man was getting on my nerves.

The room fell silent as a thick-set woman, likely in her fifties, walked in. Everyone greeted the teacher, and she placed her unbranded bag on the table, her attention immediately drawn to me.

"You're Ms. Rhyce?" she asked, furrowing her brows.

"The one and only. Yes," I replied confidently.

"Thorn..." the teacher said, her eyes fixed on me. "As the president of this class, I want you to escort Ms. Rhyce to the Dean's Office."

Excitement buzzed through the room.

I knew it! First day, first hour, and the first to get kicked out. I was really good at this.

I reached for my compact mirror from my signature bling bag, aware that everyone's eyes were on me. I fixed myself up, even combing my long, black hair. Perhaps I'd head to the mall or visit the salon—who knows? I needed to be prepared either way.

As I reached for my lipstick, a strong grip caught my arm, making my heart skip a beat. Annoyed, I frowned and turned to face the man beside me, meeting his intense gaze.

"Enough with your ceremonies. You are disrupting the class," he stated firmly, his voice low and commanding.

I glared at him, my irritation growing. Thorn was becoming more and more of a nuisance. But then, I remembered Rich…

"Fine," I sighed, stowing away my belongings in my bag. "You can let go of my arm now.”

His grip remained firm. "No."

I was taken aback by his defiance. "And why not?" I asked, annoyed.

Instead of answering, he pulled me up to stand, disregarding my protests. I looked at the teacher, silently pleading for her assistance. This was physical harassment!

"Dean's office, Ms. Rhyce," the teacher ordered sternly, her gaze lingering on my appearance before shaking her head disapprovingly.

Frustrated, I threw my bag over my shoulder, nearly slipping out of my coat as Thorn continued to tug me along.

Students stared at us, the scene resembling the aftermath of an earthquake or a passing storm that had left chaos in its wake.

"Stop pulling me!" I demanded, my annoyance peaking. Thorn was walking too fast, not stopping or releasing his grip. I felt as if I had committed some grave offense, and he was punishing me for it.

"Just let me walk by myself, and you can go back there!" I retorted.

Thorn's response was a simple, resolute "Absolutely not."

"You're such a kiss-up, aren't you? Grade-grabber much?" I snapped, making my disdain clear.

Thorn sneered, his grip tightening. I caught sight of a sign on a nearby door: Dean's Office. Relief washed over me when he finally released me, and I tried to compose myself, aware of his watchful gaze.

For the first time, I felt like a stray cat being dragged by a fierce dog. Humiliated, I turned to Thorn, eyebrows furrowed. "What's your problem?"

He still looked upset. "Nothing," he replied tersely, his gaze momentarily flickering to my protruding stomach.

"Do you have a problem with what I'm wearing?" I challenged, feeling a mix of anger and curiosity.

"Nothing," he repeated, lips forming a thin line.

"Am I not entitled to wear what I want?” I pressed.

Thorn opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came.

“What? Can’t you say something else besides ‘no’ or ‘nothing’? Is that all you’ve got?” I stepped closer, causing him to step back. I noticed a hint of red on his cheeks.

“Tease,” he muttered.

“What did you just say?” I asked, taken aback.

“Never mind,” he replied, frustration evident.

Confusion and frustration mingled within me, leaving me unsure why I felt this way.

After a moment to collect myself, I spoke up, determined to end this absurd encounter. “You can leave me here now. Thank you and goodbye. I hope to never cross paths with you again!”

Before I could turn away, a familiar figure approached us, breaking the tension.

“Ada!”

“Rich?” I exclaimed. What was he doing here?

“What’s happening?” Rich asked, concern on his face.

“Rich…” I moved toward him and embraced him, seeking solace.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, rubbing my back gently. “Did someone hurt you? Did you do something again?”

I let go of him and glanced at Thorn, eyes filled with frustration. “I don’t know. He just took me here!” I pointed at Thorn, who wore a scowl.

“Why is your arm red?” Rich touched my arm, concerned.

I shot Thorn a cold stare. “It’s his doing!”

Rich’s eyes narrowed at Thorn. “What’s your problem, man?”

Thorn’s expression remained stern. “I’m just following orders,” he said curtly.

“Following orders or not, you don’t have the right to manhandle her,” Rich retorted, his voice firm.

I could see Thorn’s jaw tighten, but he said nothing more. The tension in the air was palpable.

“Let’s go, Ada,” Rich said softly, taking my hand. “We need to see the Dean anyway.”

We turned away from Thorn, leaving him standing there, looking at me with his dark eyes.