"Here’s fine," I said quickly, pointing at the nearest apartment complex that wasn’t mine.
Celestia raised an eyebrow from the back seat of the Rolls. "You live there?"
"Yep. Love it. Mold and all."
> "Do you need me to buy it?"
I practically dove out of the car before she could offer me a penthouse.
"Thanks for the ride," I added, closing the door behind me.
She didn’t roll the window down. Didn’t say anything.
Just smiled, a soff, small and dangerous smile.
Then the Rolls pulled off into the night like a luxury shark disappearing into the deep.
"Holy crap," I muttered to myself. "What even was today?"
A billionaire’s brat had:
· Saved me from getting murdered by a jock
· Poured soda on someone
· Threatened violence
· Smiled like a Disney princess while doing it
And I let her give me a ride.
I waited a few minutes to be sure she was gone before walking two blocks over to my real place. It was a one-bedroom shoe box with a view of a dumpster and a water heater that sounded like it had asthma.
I locked the door behind me.
And for the first time since this whirlwind began, I let myself breathe.
I made it to campus early.
Sunglasses. Hoodie up. Full incognito mode.
I had one mission: blend in, pretend none of yesterday happened, and get through the day without being possessed by a hot demon in Louboutins.
For twenty-three minutes.
Then I walked into my first class — Intro to Ethics — and saw her.
Front row. Legs crossed. Perfect posture.
Smiling like she was the teacher and I’d just failed the midterm by existing.
I stopped in the doorway.
She winked. I backed out and bumped directly into Professor Halifax.
Instead, I shuffled in and sat as far from her as possible.
She waved at me like we were besties.
I pretended my textbook had a built-in escape hatch.
She was already seated. Same smile. Same perfect hair. Like she hadn’t even gone home. Like she just manifested wherever I was going.
By the time I got to my third class and saw her again, I actually said it out loud:
"You’ve got to be kidding me."
She just sipped her iced coffee and whispered, "You’re fun to stalk."
Everyone was staring. Again.
Whispers started. Rumors began bubbling like soda under pressure.
> "Is she dating him?" "Why him?" "Wait... is she into anime guys?" "I heard he saved her from drowning or something." "I bet he’s rich in secret." "No way. He wears the same hoodie every day."
By lunch, it got worse.
I walked into the cafeteria and every table went quiet for half a second — just long enough to register me, then turn into a whisper storm.
Someone even snapped a pic.
That’s when it hit me. I wasn’t invisible anymore. I wasn’t anonymous.
I was attached — to her.
To Celestia Valentina Moreau.
The walking, talking, yandere-level scandal bomb.
And I was in way too deep.
I ducked into a corner of campus, near the art building — one of the few places she hadn’t found me yet.
"You always hide here?" she asked behind me.
I jumped. "Can you stop doing that?!"
"Materializing like a boss fight."
"I enrolled in all your classes," she said cheerfully.
"Yeah. I noticed. Totally normal thing to do after one umbrella."
She blinked, tilting her head. "It was two things. The umbrella and the door."
"Right. How could I forget."
And the thing about Celestia?
She didn’t need to raise her voice. Didn’t need to threaten.
She just looked at you. And the air shifted.
She said, "You were nice to me when no one else was. I don’t forget things like that."
"You should," I said. "For your own safety."