Sky's Pov
There are about seven billion people on Earth.
And I—Sky Wang, professional overthinker, walking disaster, sunshine in human form—just managed to spill the most ridiculous, overdecorated, sugar-loaded coffee in Florence on the single most terrifying person in our entire law university.
Rain Chen.
A.K.A. The Ice Prince of Ellesmere.
A.K.A. Top of the class, terrifyingly hot, always in black, never speaks, always three steps ahead.
A.K.A. The guy no one dares breathe too loudly around because he might vaporize you with one look.
And guess what I did?
I attacked him. With marshmallow fluff.
God, Sky.
My hands are shaking as I dab at his chest with the napkin I found in my bag—blue, sunflowers, probably from my little cousin's art project last week. He's got syrup on his chest. Chocolate on his buttons. A sprinkle stuck to his collarbone.
I'm dying.
"I'm so sorry," I mutter for the fiftieth time, still trying to clean his shirt. "It's just—I wasn't watching, and this new café had a glitter latte special, and then someone texted me a picture of a pug wearing a crown, and—"
"Sky," he says, again.
I freeze.
Wait.
Waitwaitwait.
Did he just call me by my name?
I glance up slowly. He's watching me with this weird look. Like he's trying to place a memory that's just out of reach. Like he knows something I don't.
Do I know him?
No. I'd remember a guy who looks like he belongs in a mafia drama with a soundtrack of thunder and Latin chants behind him.
"Have we met?" I ask, eyes narrowing just a little.
"Yes."
Short. Certain.
I blink. "Like… where?"
He doesn't answer. Just keeps looking at me. Calm. Cold. A little haunted.
It's oddly intimate, the way he's studying me. Like he's reading me. Like I'm a page from a book he's already memorized and is rereading just to feel something again.
Okay. Whoa.
What is this? A K-drama?
I step back awkwardly, clutching my now-empty coffee cup like a broken weapon. "Well, uh, thanks for not vaporizing me."
He finally smirks. Smirks.
Like a shadow just cracked.
"I don't vaporize people," he says.
"Sure," I mumble, "but I've heard rumors. One girl said she tried to ask for your notes once and your glare made her switch majors."
"Smart girl."
I choke on my breath.
And for a second, just a second, I forget that I'm standing in a puddle of syrup and coffee foam. Forget that I'm late for class. That I'm wearing mismatched socks. That my life is a spiraling rainbow.
Because Rain Chen just joked.
At me.
With me.
And suddenly, my heart does that weird flutter thing like a moth trapped inside a lampshade. Annoying. Loud. Warm.
Maybe it's the sugar. Maybe it's the caffeine I didn't get to drink.
But I swear—when he looked at me, it felt like he already knew me.
Like he'd been waiting.