Riuscita University is a world-renowned school, producing some of the best in multiple fields, and having a successful alumni. A school that thrives and encourages its students to be plausible mentors of their crafts in due time.

Normally, students disliked school. It can be boring, hectic, soul-crushing, and cause crashouts. Yet, almost 90% of Riuscita students love the school.

The campus has this ultra-modern look, multiple buildings, large fields, and the atmosphere is always lively. Many people would describe the school to be similar to Pepperdine University or, commonly known as, Pacific Coast Academy of Zoey 101.

A dream school for many and a goal for most to achieve, only a handful get picked to become a Riuscita student.

Though a successful group of students are Sophia, Manon, Daniela, Megan, Lara, and Yoonchae. Many people knew the girls who always emphasized that ‘blood is thicker than water’ for them. 

It started with Sophia and Manon, who were friends from their previous high school, then Daniela, who joined the duo when she met Manon in a Psychology class. Lara was from the same high school, and Megan met Dani in her first year in Dance. Yoonchae, the latest addition, is a freshman who just clicked with the five girls.

It’s reality, but the girls somehow made their reality become a movie experience. 

They’re the diverse popular girls of campus, from students wanting to be their friend, students wanting to be them, or students wanting to date them. Some people wanted all three—that’s how much influence they have.

Everyone had their role, and all six girls seemed to ‘play’ it well. 

Sophia, who is the evident ‘leader’ amongst the girls, holds the most power. The Student Government President of Riuscita is adored by every single person to exist on campus, and that alone made her the jolliest girl.

“I’ve been wanting to try a hot stone massage on someone—if anyone's down at least,” Daniela spoke, her eyes on her iPad, then looking at her friends who sat around the circular table.

“Hot Stone Massage?” Megan perks up at the info, Dani nodding at the younger. “Is that for your massage therapy class?” Lara asks, and while the Latina happily nods, Manon chuckles.

“I can’t believe that’s an actual class here. How do you even get graded? Massaging your Professor? Because that would be weird,” Manon gives her two senses, and the younger sticks her tongue out.

“It’s an easy class, and we’re graded by tests and participation, party pooper.”

“I may need that massage,” the words escape Sophia’s lips, her acrylic nails clacking on the keyboard of her laptop while her eyes flash across the screen multiple times. She shuts the computer as she finishes, staring at Dani with tired eyes, “Student Government is going to be busy, and I need all the mental fortitude I can get.”

“Cause the semester just started?” 

Sophia nods at Yoonchae’s question, the younger girl tossing some chips into her mouth. “The last president planned so much for the student welcoming that we have events the entire month.”

Lara’s lips pursed, a look of confusion in her eyes, “Can’t you just rearrange or cancel some of them? You are this year's president after all.”

“And be the girl who ruined everyone’s fun this year? Yeah, no can do,” Sophia says matter-of-factly, her shoulders raised at the dilemma. 

“You have good staff this year—I’m sure they’ll have your back on everything,” Manon tells her, but Sophia could only tell herself that once, then fail to believe it every other time.

Oh, and Sophia being adored by everyone?  Yeah, the fact is somewhat false.

Because there is one person who doesn’t.

“Oh look! I guess Y/n already started posting on the school page,” Lara says excitedly as she shows Megan the post.

Sophia could only roll her eyes at the sound of your name.

Y/n L/n. Part of the student government as the social media manager, all-rounder in every aspect, and super involved in Riuscita’s activities.

It could be argued that you and Sophia are the most adored students on campus, but the Filipina wouldn’t dare admit to that. Because you were the only one who didn’t like her, and you could say the feeling is mutual, with her not liking you either.

There isn’t an exact sequence of how it all happened, but Sophia always recalled why it started in the first place. During her second year, Sophia began building this sophisticated, intelligent, and leader-like brand, which is why she’s in the position she is today.

That year was when she first met you, when you became a shadow for the previous social media manager.

Sophia had the intention of making sure she was friends with everyone, no matter what the cost was. But none of those efforts worked on you—none at all.

When Sophia bought the student government food, you wouldn’t eat the food or thank her; you’d just eat a snack from the school’s vending machines. When she helped make you the homeroom representative during the third year, there wasn’t an ounce of gratitude. When the school had an awarding ceremony and you didn’t shake her hand while on stage.

The last straw for her was when you became Yoonchae’s big sister in the buddy program, then proceeded to find out all the girls were friends with you… other than her.

Sophia couldn’t even express her rage and irritation with you in peace because the other five constantly defended you.

“Y/n helps a lot of the students in the wellness club. She’s honestly so helpful.” —Manon

“She did the choreography for dance club—during the 2 weeks I sprained my ankle.” —Daniela

“The coach called me boring, and Y/n helped me get better!” —Megan

“Gosh, I struggled writing lyrics yesterday, and Y/n stayed with me after club hours to complete it!” —Lara

“Oh yeah, I helped Y/n-unnie cook some Bulgogi for Cultural Awareness! She’s a really good cook.” —Yoonchae

That wasn’t even the end of it all, but Sophia had trained herself to have selective hearing when it came to you. She often zoned out when you became the topic of conversation, because even if you weren’t friends with her, you had become this looming, phantom 7th member of the group.

And oh, how she fucking hated that.

Sophia made up her mind about you. Unfortunately, she thought about it quite a lot—why you didn’t like her, why you didn’t interact with her, or how you became her friend’s friend.

She jogged it up to the two of you being completely different people, and you would think, due to her smarts, that she knew what the real reason was. But she’s just plain wrong.

“Oh shit, my class starts in five minutes.” 

Sophia gets brought back to reality when she hears Megan’s chair scrape the concrete, her body fleeing away before she could even comprehend her words.

“I have class in thirty, but it’s also across campus, so I need to start walking,” Manon tells the four left, leaving them to make her way to one of the farther buildings of the school.

The Filipina’s eyes drift to the time on her phone, finding the time to be 9:15, “Ugh, I have a meeting, so I gotta go. Kill me now.” Lara giggles at the attitude, while Yoonchae and Dani wave the older off.

Sophia made her way to the school’s main building, her plain Mary Jane shoes thumping on the floor, and took the elevator to her respected floor. Both her devices were held close to her chest, hugging them so they wouldn’t slip, while her shoulder had a large purse placed on it.

While entering the spacious room, many of the students inside straightened their posture, and whoever sat down immediately stood up. You're the only exception, leaning against the wall with the window open, staring at your phone.

Sophia noticed the focus on your face, brows scrunched together as your thumbs tapped away.

Staring straight at you, she raises her voice, “Everyone, take a seat please, let’s get this meeting started!”

Everyone scrambles to their seat while you don’t even flinch, just turning off your phone and walking over to the opposite side of the meeting table. She could only hold back the urge to roll her eyes, taking a seat while looking through her tablet.

“Gabriella wanted to do six projects before the end of this month for a proper school welcoming,” Sophia says while everyone begins typing through their own laptops, using Google Docs for notes or a group spreadsheet.

When looking up, she finds you scrolling through your phone again, luckily, everyone’s focused on listening to her words as she successfully rolled her eyes in a discreet way this time.

“Are we able to complete the baking fundraiser, the car wash fundraiser, the welcoming party by the end of this month, two career fairs, and a guest lecture?”

This time, Sophia’s worried tone has you turning your phone off, looking at everyone else in the room who nods.

You shift in your chair, leaning forward with your elbows on the table while suggesting a proper schedule. “Can I suggest a schedule?”

Sophia bit her tongue, only nodding her head to let you proceed.

“Everyone expects a fun time at school, so we should begin with the baking fundraiser. It’ll help students get acquainted with delicious baked goods. We also already have a bakery in mind from an alumnus who's willing to provide the food for us.”

You then take out your phone, staring at the calendar for dates. “We should then spread out everything. The second week can be the fundraiser and career fair for earlier students. The guest lecture and the second fundraiser should follow next week. Last week should be the car wash, it’ll generate more money on a Monday since students and staff would be driving in for the entire day. Then the last Friday should be the party, so almost everyone won’t have work the next day.”

Instead of acknowledging the plan, Sophia turns to the vice president, assistant, and event coordinator, “Does that seem doable for us?”

“Other than the fact that we’ll have to slow down events the next month, then it's doable.”

“That’s fine, club activities will probably happen by then. I’ll have Laurence oversee that.” 

The Club Activities Manager stiffens when she says his name, and you press your lips together to stifle a laugh. While everyone seems to their panties in a bunch around her, you could almost just laugh while everyone looks like they’re about to piss themselves.

The Student Government Assistant, Kayla, who would suck up to Sophia, smiled at her. “I’ll start adding events to the calendars and sending everyone their jobs by the end of tonight.”

Sophia grants this graceful smile while the younger girl gets right to her job. “Is the guest speaker going to be ready by the following week?”

“We’ll get in touch with them and keep you updated.” “Budgets and decorations?” Sophia’s eyes flicker to the other end of the table.

“We have a budget of twenty thousand for all six events from school funds and backers. We’ll make sure to make do with what we can.”

“The first fundraiser should happen within two days time, reach out to the bakery before closing time,” she tells the vice president. Everyone nods along while you just think about how muscular your feet are about to be by the end of the month, with all the walking.

“I’ll have Kayla send everyone any extra details. I’ll be here until 12, so please reach out to me if anything is needed,” Sophia tells everyone, adjourning the meeting. You try to exit the room as quickly as possible, but Carl stops you first, that friendly smile he always gave you easing the annoyance.

“I think I’m gonna need some help with the clubs for next month,” he gives you these puppy eyes, and you cackle, catching Sophia’s attention.

“I’ll list possible events some groups have, then I’ll report it to you by the end of this month.”

Carl squeals, like his usual self, and gives you a tight hug, “You're the best Y/n!”

While Carl tries to crush your bones, you catch the glare that Sophia gives you from afar, eliciting a smile from you.

“Piss off,” the Filipina mutters and focuses back on speaking to Kayla and the vice president. 

You leave the room, heading to your first class of the day, which is luckily in the same building. The hallways were a bit warm due to multiple students crowding in their own little groups. You slip through the side entrance of the Life Sciences wing of the building, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag.

It was the first real week of the semester, but luckily, most of your professors seemed laid back. You went to the third floor for your Aging and Chronic Illness class, happening in one of the building’s newer lab-style classrooms. It’s one of your final requirements to graduate as a Gerontology major, and the content wasn't so bad. Professor Cho, who had a gentle grandma energy, made sure of that.

You walk in and immediately make your way to the front row, second seat from the left. “Damn, early again?”

Raya’s voice comes from behind in a teasing manner. She’s holding two protein bars in one hand, and she tosses one at you before pulling out her chair. “Thanks,” you mumble, catching it with one hand. You tear off the wrapper and toss your bag under the table in a smooth motion.

Raya plops into the seat beside you, crossing one leg over the other. “So... how’s your morning been? Anyone try to fight you yet?”

You snort. “Close. Sophia gave me another one of her death stares during the meeting.”

Raya rolls her eyes. “Again?”

“Yeah,” you deadpan, chewing your bar slowly. “I think her brain almost exploded when Carl hugged me.” Raya leans forward with her arms on the desk, grinning like she already knew where this was going. “You love pissing her off.”

You shrug. “I don’t love it. It’s unintentional.”

She gives you a look of, ‘Oh, be for real right now.’ “You act so different with her compared to literally everyone else. Like, I’ve seen you sit with freshmen crying over their GPA, and you’re all comforting and ‘here’s a snack, it’s okay,’ but then Sophia breathes and you look like you want to stand in a lane with fast cars.”

You raise a brow. “She ‘started’ it.”

Raya snickers and shakes her head, clearly amused. “You are the weirdest social butterfly I’ve ever met.”

“She just… rubs me the wrong way. Like we’re oil and water.”

“You say that like you haven’t thought about it enough,” she teases, half-turning toward you. “Is it really just a vibe thing?”

“Of course.” You don’t meet her eyes. “I mean, yeah. She’s fake and controlling and… I don’t know, I just don’t like her.”

“That actually seems like a fair statement to make, but you don’t even know her,” she says softly, her voice sing-song.

Before you can argue or give her another look, the door swings open, and Professor Cho walks in. Raya pulled her notebook out while you took out your own. The professor clicks the projector on, the screen behind her lighting up with a slideshow labeled: “AGING AND CHRONIC ILLNESS – WEEK 2: Psychological Perspectives on Aging”

“Good morning, everyone,” she says, her voice calm. “Today we’re going to start looking into how the aging process affects cognition, behavior, and emotional development, especially in relation to chronic illness.”

You zone in, but Raya bumps your arm lightly with her elbow before class fully starts.

"Wanna bet you and Sophia will be friends before graduation?"

You give her a death stare and scoff. "I’m not wasting my money, but also not happening."

“Pussyyyyyy~”

“Oh, be quiet and focus, please.”

Two days went by quicker than expected, and it was finally time for the first event of the Student Government.

The central courtyard, normally home to passer-by students and people doing assignments, had been transformed into an outdoor bakery.

White booths lined the concrete path, decorated with royal blue streams due to the school colors. The air was full of sweet scents—sugar, cinnamon, and warm butter that could make anyone salivate. Banners hung from light poles, proudly reading, ‘Welcome Back Fundraiser!’ and ‘Butter & Bloom Bakery here today!’ 

Clarisse, class of 2012 and former culinary student, was something of a legend on campus. Her bakery had since expanded to three cities, and the fact that she came back for this event had half the culinary majors geeking out.

Over 5,000 baked goods had been delivered by truck early that morning by her catering team. From lemon poppyseed madeleines to boxes stacked high with ube-stuffed croissants, the bakery had sent a variety. There were eclairs piped with vanilla cream, matcha macarons in pastel boxes, and yes, an entire glass display case for multiple cupcake flavors.

The school took 30% of the proceeds for their various club and scholarship funds, while the bakery kept the remaining 70%, though she promised to donate back a large portion “just because.”

The booths had been open since 9 in the morning. By 11:30, Sophia was sitting on a sun-warmed bench near the fountain, her dainty fingers holding a glazed lemon tart with brûléed sugar on top, and a candied slice of lemon perched right in the center.

“Okay, I get it now,” she says after the first bite, eyes wide in delight. “This is insane.”

“I told you Clarisse wasn’t playing around,” Manon hums, pulling apart a chocolate-hazelnut cruffin. Daniela, beside her, got a cinnamon-apple twist, sticky with glaze. “If I die today, bury me in one of these.”

“You’d attract ants,” Yoonchae pipes up, munching on a ube cookie while giving a disgusted look. Lara, the most practical of the six currently, is carefully using a fork and knife to eat a tres leches cupcake on a paper plate. “Did you guys see the brownie cheesecake hybrid thing? I couldn’t even look at it.”

Megan nods, her fingers brushing powdered sugar from her lips as she finishes a strawberry mochi donut. “I took a pic of it for my insta. I think I fell in love.”

Sophia, basking in the rare moment of calmness, let herself lean back slightly to take in the sun, legs crossed at the ankles, the hem of her skirt brushing her thigh. “This was a good idea,” she admits, almost begrudgingly. “The turnout’s great, Clarisse looks like a celebrity, and everything is functioning.”

Somewhere across the courtyard, a loud laugh pierces the air. Students shuffle between booths, and the music playing from the outdoor speakers continues to blast with soft pop music.

Sophia glances up toward the crowd.

You were doing laps around the event like a trained soldier. Wearing your usual plain white tee, camera slung around your shoulder, and a phone in one hand, you were busy directing shots, snapping crowd photos, close-ups of the pastries, and even artsy scenery pictures of the decorated campus.

You were exhausted, being there since 6:30 that morning, helping set up banners, guiding Clarisse’s team, and making sure the layout was symmetrical enough for the drone shots the school planned on using later.

But finally—finally—you had time for a small break.

You made your way to the cupcakes because they were calling your name as soon as you saw them that morning. There were a variety of flavors, ranging from plain vanilla to even a red bean-flavored sweet.

You picked a red velvet cupcake since it was your favorite flavor, tapping your phone screen to snap a quick picture of it before paying, and finally, letting yourself enjoy something sweet for once.

“Y/n!”

You turned your head to see Megan approaching, her drink in hand—something lavender-colored in a tall plastic cup with tapioca pearls. Could only assume it was taro bubble tea from the milk tea stand.

“Hey,” you said with a tired grin, your voice a bit hoarse from hours of talking.

“Don’t tell me you just now got something to eat,” Megan says, half-scolding.

“I did. Needed to make sure I got the best shots before sundown.”

Megan laughs, standing beside you as you unwrap the red velvet cupcake. “You work too hard. But you looked cool doing it, not gonna lie.”

“I always look cool.”

You show her the screen of your phone—a short boomerang of Clarisse handing out mini boxes to students, followed by a gallery of vibrant pictures. Some pastries lined in neat rows, smiling students mid-bite, and a close-up of the welcome banner swaying with the wind. Then you swipe to your camera—a DSLR that gleamed with how well taken care of it was.

“Some of these are getting passed off to the editor.”

Megan leans in and gasps softly. “Wait, go back— that one!”

You scroll back two photos—a candid shot of Sophia holding the tart earlier, eyes bright, smile wide.

“I’m gonna need you to send that to me,” she declares instantly. “You’re so talented, it’s actually annoying,” she says, nudging your shoulder. “Anyway, I should get back before they send out a search party.”

“Tell Sophia I’m still alive,” you joke, waving her off as she heads back toward the bench.

When Megan returns to the group, she’s practically bouncing. “I just saw Y/n!” Sophia doesn’t look up from her phone, but her brows twitch ever so slightly.

“Oh yeah?” Lara asks, licking some frosting off her fork.

“Yeah, she was by the cupcake stand. She got such pretty photos—like, she showed me some? They're so good, it made me want to scream.”

“She always has that eye,” Daniela adds, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I saw some of the shots she did for the Spring Gala last year, and they looked like they should be in a magazine.”

“She took this one of Sophia,” Megan says, holding out her phone with the picture you had just sent from your phone. “Look how good it is—like she’s glowing.”

The girls crowd around to look, and Manon lets out a low whistle. “Okay, that’s actually stunning. You look like you’re in an ad.”

“Of course it looks good,” Sophia says, voice tight, her tone sharp enough to cut. “It’s literally her job.”

The comment has the other five girls pause, turning to her slowly. “Damn, who pissed in your latte?” Dani mutters under her breath.

Manon raises a brow. “You okay over there, Supreme Leader?”

Sophia glares. “I just don’t think we need to throw her a parade for doing what she’s paid to do.”

“She’s not paid, unnie,” Yoonchae chimes in, “She’s technically on scholarship.” Sophia presses her lips together. “Same thing.”

Megan tries to lighten the mood. “I’m just saying—she’s got talent, okay? And taste. You should’ve seen the shot she got of me. I looked gorgeous.”

“I’m sure,” Sophia mutters.

“I mean, she made you look extra good,” Manon teases, sipping her iced coffee with a smirk. “Maybe you should ask her for a photoshoot.”

Daniela snorts, taking her last bite while saying, “She’d start a fight before that ever happened.”

“You guys are so annoying,” Sophia groans, standing up abruptly, the remains of her lemon tart left in a cute container.

The girls erupt into laughter. “She’s blushing!” Lara exclaims, pointing at her. “I’m not!” Sophia snaps, already walking away.

“I’ll ask Y/n to take a couple of shots of you next time,” Manon calls after her. “Maybe you’ll stop hating her if she gets your good side.”

“Every side is my good side,” Sophia fires back, but her cheeks are pink. The girls are still giggling when she disappears into the crowd.

Sophia didn’t understand the hype around you despite everyone’s admiration. Sure, you were involved in multiple school activities, but that didn’t mean you were on her level.

That’s what Sophia told herself, at least.

But if you asked everyone on campus, everyone would say you two are alike, even if either of you didn’t admit to it. You had a similar charm and a natural-born leader-like aura, even if you only had minor roles within the activities you participated in.

The list is quite surprising, actually. You are the Student Government’s social media manager, part of the Buddy Program, a member of the cultural awareness club, music club, wellness club, vice captain of the school’s dance team, and have helped out with fundraisers.

You made sure to get all the experience you could while being on a scholarship, and all the efforts paid off after four years. Everyone recognized your efforts, even Sophia did deep down.

“Ugh, get out of my head,” she groans quietly, trying to make sure no one sees a stressed version of Sophia Laforteza out in the wild.

Although to her luck, the one person she would’ve liked to avoid stopped in their tracks at the sight of her gripping her dark locks.

You held the camera right to your chest, looking toward the left, where you found her behind one of the booths.

Sophia’s face morphed into disappointment. “This cannot be happening right now,” she muttered. 

She sees this amusement in your eyes, the same look you gave her when you successfully annoyed her. There's this tension that feels forbidden to speak of, and all Sophia can do is push past you.

The shove of her shoulder lingered on your own, hand caressing the targeted spot while the other made sure the camera didn’t fall and break.

“Can’t believe my major role in life is to piss off the student president,” your eyes shimmered, but your voice laced with sarcasm.

There’s Sophia’s point of view in this entire “rivalry,” but what about yours?

It was simple. Much simpler than the Filipina made it out to be.

You believed Sophia was a fraud since day 1.

Initially, you thought that the woman wanted to make friends. The way you remembered the first meeting with her is a complete 180 from what she remembers. Because her first interaction with you was when you met her during your prerequisite class during your sophomore year of college, not in the student government.

Sophia’s position at the time was assistant to both the vice president and the student body president at the time. She sucked up to the older girls, making sure she looked good and outshone others.

That’s not how she portrayed it, but that's what it felt like, and you hadn’t liked her ever since. Through the years, there wasn’t any evident change to Sophia’s character, but it made her predictable.

Like when she bought everyone food, gave you a class rep position, hell, even her moving up in the school’s ‘political’ hierarchy made sense.

You simply didn’t like her, completely aware that the feelings were mutual.

The similarities in personalities and work ethic are uncanny between the two of you. Yet the biggest difference was that you have all your friends, connections, and even assignments through effortlessness, while Sophia made it feel like she had to plaster her face on the walls to make sure people paid attention to her.

It’s probably harsh to say, but because of how blunt you are, that’s just how you feel.

You doubt that will ever change, either.

There’s another world or dimension where you and Sophia didn’t know or hate each other, but not in this timeline. Because the next few weeks were about to be you and her spending a lot of time together with all the events happening.

Especially since you took photos of anyone and anything, there was no way she could avoid you.

Just when she didn’t think it could get any worse for her, the world decided to go against her during the second fundraiser.

Sophia knew that you had a persevering and determined work ethic, willing to get work done and to help. She wasn’t aware of what lengths you’d go to help, though.

That day, she could only stop by the parking lot due to a busy schedule and some assignments needing to be done. Once she made it, there were loads of cars lined up—some being rinsed while others were lathered in soap.

Kayla stood next to her, handing the Filipina a clipboard to check if things were running smoothly. Her eyes traveled down to a list of volunteers, where she found one of the wash girls had not made it.

“Didn’t we have 15 students on the list? Why didn’t Giovanna show up?” Sophia squinted behind her shades, and Kayla straightened her posture at the question. “She recently sprained her ankle during soccer practice, so she couldn’t make it.”

“Well, who replaced her?” Before Sophia can finish her question, the younger student points at the red car currently being washed, where she finds you in a cami top and skimpy, low-waisted denim shorts.

Thank the heavens for her large shades. Sophia blinked furiously as if her vision blurred, and she coughed once, her cheeks almost turned pink through her makeup.

She had never seen this side of you. This hot, sensual one. The white cami you wore had practically gone see-through from the water, the fabric soaked top clinging onto every curve on your body. The denim shorts showed off your legs, how they glistened in the sun like diamonds, covered with water droplets on them.

Don’t even get her started on the midriff she saw peaking through. You rarely ever wore crop tops, at least at any given moment while Sophia’s around. So when she sees your defined abs, the wet top molding into them, she covers her mouth with the palm of her hand at the shock.

“What the hell…?”

“Is she doing here?” Kayla tries to finish the question, Sophia only nodding her head in surprise. “Y/n finished posting on all the socials, so she decided to help out when she saw one team had missing members.”

The older person could only mumble, “What about the high-end cars from larger customers?” “She dries her hands and takes pictures with her phone instead of the camera.”

Sophia can’t even respond, her eyes never leaving you, no matter how busy you were. The strands of your hair are obviously wet, losing their volume as some of it clung to your exposed skin. The way your top had become see-through, the dark blue bra you wore was vibrant through the now sheer top.

Her breath hitches when you flick your hair back upward, making sure it isn’t in front of you. It looked like those movie scenes where the hot girl flings her hair upward while leaving the pool.

…Safe to say that Sophia couldn’t believe that’s actually you.

She had only ever seen you in the professional light, and seeing you like this? Had heat pooling low in her stomach.

The best course of action was to walk away, and she did just that, Kayla following her trail yet falling back due to Sophia’s pace despite in heeled boots.

“Uhm, Sophia? Where are we going?” she hears a trembling voice behind her, and Sophia’s brows furrow, not at the question, but at the fact that her brain couldn’t stop thinking of you.

“I want to check out venues for the welcome party.”

“Outdoors is an option.”

“No. We did the bakery outdoors, and the fact that students and staff will likely be drunk, we can be liable for any mishaps. I’m not taking that chance, Kayla.”

There was urgency in her voice as she walked toward the campus housing office, eyes full of fury as she tried to get her mind off you.

Once Sophia and Kayla got into the room, the younger student began doing what was asked of her while Sophia sat in the waiting area. The blonde had brought a list of usable houses, trying to see which one fit the needs of MANY students.

“Every house isn’t fit for multiple students in the school; the list is pretty much comprised of outdoor venues other than one.”

“The modern-looking house in Beverly Hills?” Kayla nods, and she hears a groan from the senior. “I want a change of scenery and a spot easily accessible for students without cars.”

Before her assistant can respond, Sophia is already standing and walking over to the desk with a formidable walk.

Her hands slam down on the table, causing the employee at the front desk to flinch. Trying to keep her image intact, Sophia gives the man a friendly smile, her nails drumming on the counter. “Julian, right?”

The boy just nods, and she begins to give a very believable performance. “The newly built dormitory just passed the inspection, right? I was hoping we could use it for the welcoming party for students and staff this upcoming Friday. We can restrict it to only the first floor with all the amenities.”

“I’m sorry, Sophia. I’m not sure how doable that’s gonna be.”

Kayla, who does well in acting as her counterpart, leans over the counter with an evil smile, “Get Joe in here, please?”

The boy can only nod, scared to piss off the two, and runs to the back room. About five minutes later, Julian comes out with Joe behind him, who's evidently exhausted from all the work he’s doing.

“Ah, Laforteza. What can I do for you?”

“New dorm as venue for the welcoming party?” Her voice is high-pitched while she speaks fast, in hopes it will get him to agree. Yet she’s well loved by everyone, so why would he say no?

“Done, I’ll fax over the papers of me approving it—I’m sure the dean and principal will sign. If not, and that’s a really low chance, I’ll look for a place that fits your needs.”

“Cool, Kayla, send him the details.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sophia’s charms, unsurprisingly, did their damn thing with Joe.

Technically, the school’s Residential Director, who pretty much operated more like a cool uncle who wandered campus with a hippie shirt on, had successfully made everyone agree to the girls' wishes. One little meeting, a couple of compliments about the architecture of the newly-built Verano Dormitory, and a perfectly packaged proposal from Sophia herself, and the man had agreed.

By Friday night, the lower level—bigger than even some of the academic buildings—was converted into a party den. String lights flickered along the ceiling beams, the color-changing LEDs wrapped around pillars bathed everything in soft blue and gold. 

There were food trays near the shared kitchen, music pumping through the large tower speakers, and enough students packed into one building to classify as a slight fire hazard. But amid the music, laughter, and chaos, Sophia sat neatly curled into the corner of one of the velvet couches in the common lounge, back perfectly straight, one arm draped over the cushion.

Manon, Daniela, Lara, Megan, and Yoonchae were on the same couch—three of them well into a couple of drinks by now. Megan and Yoonchae, on the other hand, sat cross-legged in their spots, nursing cans of soda and passing around a pack of gummies.

“Remind me to never mix hard seltzer and Soju again,” Manon muttered, nearly falling into Dani’s lap. “That’s literally what I said when you started mixing them,” Dani giggles, poking her side with a painted nail.

Sophia sipped lightly from her cup—a citrus cocktail someone had made that tasted like melted sugary fruit—and scanned the room like a hawk, making sure she watched everyone.

“I still can’t believe Joe gave us the dorm,” Lara said through a hiccup, tilting her head up. “Like, this space is huge. Do you see that staircase?”

“Do you see how tipsy you are?” Megan asked, snickering.

Sophia smiled a little, only half-listening, her eyes drifting across the room every few seconds. “Presidential duty,” she said earlier, when they asked why she chose the corner seat. “I should be able to observe everyone from here.”

Then a quick, bright flash and shutter sound caught her attention.

You were standing about six feet away from the group, camera raised, snapping a quick photo, hands swiftly clicking the button, looking way too good in a semi-casual fit that made her think something she absolutely shouldn’t.

You didn’t even say hi— just capturing them mid-laughter, unaware until you pulled the camera away from your face. Dani looked up first, waving with a smile. “¡Y/n! ¡Ven acá!” she shouted above the music, motioning you over.

With no hesitation, you look over to the group who considered you a good friend of theirs, of course, other than Sophia.

Sophia didn't move or bat an eye as she glared at you.  Dani leaned back slightly, cheeks flushed from drinking and how warm the corner was. “¿Aprendiste la nueva coreografía del club de baile ya o no?” (Did you learn the new choreography from the dance club yet or not?)

You gave a small laugh, nodding as you replied, “La aprendí, sí. Pero también le agregué unas partes nuevas para la segunda mitad. Si quieres, podemos practicar este fin de semana para presentarla.” (I did, yeah. But I also added a few new parts for the second half. If you want, we can practice this weekend to present it.)

“¡Eso me encantaría! ¡Mañana o el domingo?” (I’d love that! Tomorrow or Sunday?)

“Lo que te sirva más. Yo me adapto.”(Whatever works best for you. I can adjust.)

You looked effortlessly cool while speaking to Danila, the other, picking up that the conversation was between the captain and the vice captain of the dance team. But while you talked, Sophia felt like her drink suddenly had much more alcohol in it.

Because hearing you speak Spanish shouldn’t have been anything. But it was smooth and fast. Dani laughed again at something you said, and Sophia just stared. She barely caught half of it, but it didn’t matter. The way you became more relaxed while speaking in another language—it had her all nervous in a way that pissed her off.

It wasn’t fair—she’s supposed to hate you. And yet, here she was, borderline malfunctioning over a few fluent sentences.

You glanced over and caught this unfamiliar look in her eye.

It wasn’t her usual look that silently read condescension or superiority complex. No, Sophia looked caught red-handed for some reason.

You furrow your brows slightly, unsure of what to make of it. Was she drunk? Was that just the lighting? Was she—

“I should let you guys hang out,” you muttered, pulling your camera strap higher onto your shoulder. “I’ll see you all on Monday.”

“Wait!” Yoonchae piped up suddenly from her spot on the couch, eyes wide. “Unnie, don’t forget the buddy scrimmages tomorrow! Volleyball, 1 PM. You’re my partner!”

You groaned sarcastically but smiled anyway. “I didn’t forget. I’ll be there.”

“Good,” she said, all proud and chipper. You gave the group a final nod before slipping back into the crowd, blending in with a group headed toward the refreshment table.

Sophia blinked once—then twice. Her drink was now untouched for the entire interaction. Megan leaned over and nudged her arm. “You good?”

“Huh?” Sophia snapped back. “Yeah. Fine.”

“Mm,” Megan said, raising a brow. “You’ve been real quiet since Dani pulled Y/n over. Just sayin’.”

“Don’t start.”

“You sure? Because you were practically drooling when she started talking.”

“I wasn’t drooling,” Sophia snapped, her voice a little too high-pitched to be believable. “You kind of were,” Manon slurred a bit, lifting her drink with a laugh. “But it’s okay. She’s pretty.”

“She is,” Dani agreed, sighing wistfully. “And she dances so well. Like her body control? Ugh. She could step on me and I’d say thank you.”

“Oh my God,” Sophia muttered, sinking deeper into the couch.

“I’m just saying,” Megan grinned. “You’ve got that look again. You only get that when you're obsessed.”

“I’m not obsessed,” Sophia snapped, cheeks burning.

“Then why are you still staring at the spot she was just standing in?” The girls howled.

Lara spilled her drink on her own leg from laughing so hard. Yoonchae was half-giggling, half-mouthing “Unnie has a crush” in Dani’s direction.

Sophia groaned, hiding her face with one hand. “I hate all of you.”

All of her conflicting feelings made her unsure of how she felt about you. 

Before she can make up her mind, Sophia wants to figure out a couple of things first.

You walked through the party, gripping your camera while trying to get to the table full of drinks. Successful enough to get a fruit punch, you take a sip, deep in thought about the look Sophia gave you. There was this interest or longing in her eyes that you’ve never seen before. She’d never been the kind to be shy about her distaste for you—or at least, that’s how it felt. 

“Hey.”

You turned, mid-sip, and found a girl named Cynthia who is in your sociology class. Her hair was styled in a sharp bob and gave you a cheery grin. She distinctively always wore those vintage-style earrings and kept an extra highlighter tucked behind her ear while in class. Tonight, though, she was dressed in a cropped blouse, high-waisted pants, and just the right amount of eyeliner. 

“Hey,” you greeted, polite but a bit confused at the encounter. You lowered your camera and sipped your drink again, scanning the space for new shots. Cynthia, however, wasn’t going to let the moment pass.

“I saw you across the room,” she said, stepping in just a little closer. Her subtle perfume was sweet and filled your nose. “You look really good tonight.”

You chuckled lightly, giving a modest shrug. “Yeah, well, school made me bring out the big camera. Can’t fully enjoy the party.”

“Well, the camera suits you,” Cynthia replied, head tilted. “But I think it’s unfair that you’re behind it instead of in front.”

You smiled, unsure how to respond without sounding rude or leading her on. She clearly meant well, and you didn’t want to embarrass her. “That’s kind of you to say.”

She leaned slightly into your space, eyes sparkling in the low lighting. “You know, I’ve been meaning to talk to you more. You always seem so focused in class.”

“Focused or sleep-deprived,” you joked.

“Both can be hot,” she shot back easily, and you let out a startled laugh. Cynthia was bolder than she seemed in the classroom, probably the liquid courage coursing through her veins.

In the other room, Sophia had excused herself to the bathroom, needing a breather from the relentless teasing of her friends and actually needing the bathroom. She made her way through the hallway, heels clicking, her eyes roaming as she navigated the groups of people clustered near the stairs. On her way back, she cut through the side of the common area and paused.

There you were, leaning against the table, camera resting on your hip, soft smile on your face as you talked to Cynthia.

Her heart stalled a bit. She knew she wasn’t jealous, that much she knew. But maybe curiosity, concern, annoyance? She isn’t really sure about what it was. But it made her stop walking altogether, partly shielded behind a group of students in front of her, who were stuck in their own conversation. She watched as Cynthia laughed too loudly, as she touched your arm too comfortably, as you gave a tight smile and shifted your weight, but didn’t move away. 

You looked stuck as Sophia squinted. Your body language was hesitant, but like her, you were probably too nice to tell the girl off. Still, Cynthia kept leaning in, twirling a piece of hair and batting her lashes.

Sophia didn’t know why it made her jaw tense, but her body seemed to walk forward on its own.

Cynthia was saying something else flirty—something you were clearly not paying attention to, but she didn’t get the memo. It took all your restraint not to choke on your punch at comments that surprised you.

“Hey,” Sophia said, breezy but loud enough to stop the conversation. You and Cynthia both turned. “Sorry to interrupt. You’re needed back on coverage Y/n. Joe wants a couple of story shots from the east side before people start heading out since it's getting late.”

You blinked. “Oh. Yeah, of course.”

Sophia gave a closed-lip smile. “Now, preferably.”

Cynthia took a small step back, lips pursing at Sophia’s intimidating aura. “Oh, right. Of course… School stuff.” Her voice lost some of its luster.

You nodded apologetically, lifting your camera. “Rain check,” you told her with a polite tone.

“Maybe,” she said, but the flirt had drained from her smile.

Sophia didn’t wait for either of you to say more. She turned and started walking, clearly expecting you to follow. And you did, adjusting your strap and catching up.

Once out of Cynthia’s earshot, you glanced sideways at her. “Did Joe really say that?”

“He didn’t have to.” Sophia didn’t look at you. “That’s what you're on Student Government for.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Are you my supervisor now?”

“No,” she said. “But it looked like you needed help.”

You gave her a long look. “Is that some concern I’m hearing, Pres?”

Sophia finally met your gaze, but her expression was unreadable. Her voice was cool, but softer. “I don’t like distractions.”

“I wasn’t distracted.”

“Cynthia was being obvious.”

“Not my fault, she wanted to talk.”

Sophia didn’t respond immediately; she only walked ahead until you both reached the east side of the common area. You raised your camera and began taking the shots she claimed were ‘needed.’

After a minute, Sophia spoke again, just blurting out the first thing that came to mind. “She’s not your type.”

The camera is frozen in your hands, and you turn slowly. “You think you know my type?”

“I know what kind of girls you look at.”

“Really?” Your voice dipped, teasing but quiet. “And which kind is that?”

Sophia crossed her arms, eyes flicking toward the ceiling for a moment like she regretted starting the conversation in the first place. But then she tilted her head and shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “The intense kind. Driven. Maybe a little too controlling.”

You smirked and told her, “Sounds familiar… but you definitely don’t know me at all.” The comment was meant to be serious, but it came off more playful, probably for the better.

Sophia rolled her eyes, but there was no heat to it. “Get your shots. You have fifteen minutes until you're finished for the night.”

You lifted the camera, but not before whispering in a teasing manner, “You were watching me.”

Sophia turned to leave without answering, but her ears were red. Later, when she rejoined the girls on the couch, Dani noticed immediately. “Where did you disappear to?”

“Bathroom,” Sophia replied.

“Definitely longer than a bathroom break. Did something happen?”

Sophia sat back in the corner spot. “No one important,” that just slipped out.

“Huh.” Manon sipped her drink and grinned. “Because Cynthia came back muttering ‘dammit, Sophia’ while distraught.”

Sophia didn’t reply, but her smile was smug, “good.”

“That sounded evil,” Lara pointed to the older, and Sophia rolled her eyes for like the fourth time tonight.

“Bet it’s about Y/n, again!” Megan practically cheers, and Yoonchae nods. “For sure, unnie always talks about that girl staring at her… a little too clueless that she’s crushing on her.”

“That reminds me, I have to text her about something,” Dani says while whipping out her phone. As much as Sophia wanted to probe, her brain wouldn’t let her, but luckily, the rest were friends with you, right?

Manon, who's sobering up a bit, shifts in her spot with a confused look, “About?”

“She wants to get more cardio in at the gym and wants a regimen for it. I offered to help.”

Megan’s brows furrow together, not understanding why, “Isn’t she like… already ripped?” “Says she’s lacking stamina,” Dani just shrugs, always supportive to help a friend out. “Stamina’s lacking, but she’s always running around events for photos without getting tired easily.”

Lara nods at what Manon points out, but all Sophia can think about is how much work you do within a week. It did intrigue her as to how you found the time for yourself.

One other thing about the President, she’ll make sure she finds out.

The sunlight filtering through the tinted windows of the Student Government office was soft and golden. It stretched across the meeting table. Sophia slumped over, writing furiously in her planner, because her day was pure shit. Her head was pounding, a dull ache blooming behind her temples.

Three meetings back-to-back, including a long one with the Dean, who somehow managed to turn a five-minute update into an hour-long guilt trip. Plans for community partnerships, reports about last semester’s scholarship funding discrepancies. Not all of it was about her duties, but all she could do was sit down and listen without being disrespectful.

The dean even had a field trip proposal from the Environmental Club to review by next week. Some homecoming committee budget approvals, a contract negotiation email is waiting in her inbox with “urgent” flagged twice.

And then, to add to it all, she had Communications.

Professor Mendelsohn had his usual peppy attitude during class that afternoon, announcing a new project. Something about personal brand audits, analyzing online presence across platforms, conducting peer reviews, submitting a report, and presenting findings to a mock "corporate board" made up of your classmates in exactly one week.

Just pain, without any extension because, as he would say, “Making deadlines for work without extra days is part of life.’

Sophia had clenched her jaw the entire walk back to the Student Gov room. Her famous heels had clicked furiously against the tiled flooring of the hallway. By the time she got there, she was already at capacity. Already tired of pretending to smile at people asking for favors or dropping in to “chat” about updates they could’ve easily emailed her.

She’d snapped at two underclassmen who forgot to clean up after a lunch break they had. Her voice had raised high pressure and tension in the air. A junior trying to propose a small charity event had blinked at her and awkwardly mumbled, “Maybe next week.”

Now, finally alone in the office, Sophia was breathing unevenly, her planner open, but her pen hadn’t moved once. She hated being like this, but it kept happening as it came with the position she worked hard for. 

No one gives you a rule book on how to be a Student President; if someone did, Sophia would’ve been reading it nonstop by now.

She ran a hand through her hair and leaned back, the room echoing slightly with her sharp sigh.

The door then suddenly creaked open, you walking in like it was nothing—quite frankly, it was no big deal. But with the mood Sophia was in, she was about to make it one.

You causally sauntered in, looking around the room and not minding her presence one bit. Just your phone in hand and a slight wrinkle in your brow that probably meant you were annoyed.

“Sorry—” you started, already heading toward the corner cubby. “I left something.” Sophia didn’t look up. “Of course you did.”

You paused, blinking. Her giving you attitude was nothing new, but in a space where it was just the two of you, the comment felt more personal.

There was a moment of silence between you, but then, finally, your voice—deadpan. “Was that supposed to mean something?”

Sophia closed her planner with a loud thud and leaned her elbow onto the desk. “Ugh. Not you right now.”

That earned her a sharp look, your arms crossing against your chest. “Is there a problem, Laforteza?” you asked.

‘Oh. Oh, you really wanted to do this right now,’ was the first thing she thought.

Sophia straightened, her face twisted in something between disbelief and exasperation. “You wanna know what my problem is?”

You arched a brow, “That’s what I asked.”

“My problem,” she snapped, “is that I’ve been going nonstop since 7 A.M. I’ve been in meetings about scholarships and event budgets and field trip insurance, I got called into the Dean’s office because apparently no one else knows how to handle the sustainability grant forms, and then Mendelsohn gave us a comms project due in seven days where I have to dissect my entire online existence and pitch it like I’m applying for Shark Tank.”

You walk around the table, nearing her as she continues to rant, not seeing how any of her reasons had anything to do with you.

“And then,” she added, voice rising, “I come here, to the one place that’s supposed to be quiet now because everyone’s gone, and guess who walks in acting like the world owes her space?”

“I didn’t know your whole world revolved around me,” you shot back, tone calm but standing your ground.

“Oh my God,” Sophia muttered. “You are—infuriating. You’re friends with all of my friends, but you never talk to me unless it’s sarcastic or condescending or to give me that little fake smile like you’re above all this.”

“I don’t give you fake smiles.”

“You don’t give me anything,” her head snapped toward you, now standing as she glares. “You talk to everyone else like they’re human, and then you look at me like I’m nothing.”

A brow raises unconsciously as you listen to her.

“I don’t even know what I did to you,” Sophia went on, eyes shining with something sharp. “But you always have an attitude when you speak to me, like you’ve got me all figured out and you hate what you see. You hate me, and I don’t even know why.”

The room was quiet, and your eyes didn’t leave hers. “I don’t hate you.”

Sophia’s breath hitched at the short sentence, her stance faltering slightly.

“I don’t hate you,” you repeated. “But I hate the version of you everyone sees. The perfect student body president. You're like a PR girl. The nice voice, the hand on the shoulder, the polished laugh.”

Sophia’s arms slowly folded over her chest, her face blank now. “I hate how fake it feels,” you continued. “Because your friends? They’re real. They don’t portray themselves the way you do. You sound and look rehearsed in every way—no one sees through it.”

You stepped closer, lowering your voice just enough to force her to listen. “But I do.”

Sophia couldn’t breathe properly, listening to the longest conversation the two of you have had since you’ve met. “You try so hard to be liked,” you murmured. “And I think you hate that I’m not one of the people who gives it to you.”

She swallowed hard.

There was a heat in the air now, like the moment before all the chaos. Her fists clenched, eyes darting across your face like she was looking for something other than your honesty to feel better about herself.

But she couldn’t see anything else.

“I’m not fake,” she finally said, her voice low, shaky.

“I didn’t say you were,” you replied. “I said the version you show everyone is.”

She stepped forward, but you didn’t move back. “You don’t know me.”

“Then show me the version that doesn’t talk like a LinkedIn profile.”

That comment, despite being a joke, irked the girl. Sophia’s jaw tensed with her perfectly manicured fingers curled, then straightened—and then one sharply dug into your chest as she pointed.

“I hate you,” she whispered.

“No,” you said, eyes flicking to her lips, “you hate that I don’t pretend with you.”

Her expression didn’t waver, her nostrils flaring with anger. If cartoon smoke were something you could see in real life, you were sure you would’ve seen it coming out of her nose and ears by now.

She hated that you were able to say the right things to get this version of her. The one that’s all riled up, strands of hair tousled, her outfit looking wrinkled from the busy day—this is the real Sophia you were talking about.

Her eyes gleam under the bright light while holding back the brimming tears, pouty lips trembling slightly. 

“This is the real you, huh?” You murmured.

She let out a short, almost broken laugh—like you’d caught her off guard for the first time all day. Her fingers curled slightly into your shirt. You didn’t even flinch.

“You’re such an asshole,” she breathed.

“That doesn’t seem to stop you from thinking about me.”

There was a pause, Sophia seeming to calm down yet not responding to anything you said.

She then repeated, “You don’t know me, Y/n.” Your head tilts, head leaning back a bit, while your hand rests in the pockets of your joggers. “Then if you want me to be friends with you so bad, you're gonna have to show me, Sophia.”

It was a challenge. A challenge that rapidly took over Sophia’s brain and body.

There wasn’t a thought that took over her, but something did as she tugged on your shirt hard, pulling you in as your lips crashed onto hers.

Processing everything wasn’t going to happen, especially when you see her eyes shut, hands gripping your shirt even harder, like she wanted to rip it off. Your hands started up with your elbows up, not understanding what was going on. 

You didn’t hate it, but it caught you off guard.

Once you noticed that Sophia wanted to prove herself by not letting go, your shoulders relaxed as your hands fell onto her slim waist. She feels how your hands rested on the fabric of her sheer button-up, the touch warming up her body.

You thought, ‘Hey, this isn’t so bad!’ Which quickly changes when you feel her hands releasing your shirt. 

Thinking she had enough, you almost back away until Sophia presses her chest against yours, no space left, and her fingers combed through your hair—gripping with all her might.

The feeling has you groan against her lips, arms fully wrapping around her waist to balance her from falling back. You feel how her back arched, torsos touching each other as a muffled moan escapes her lips. There was no space between you, just the feeling of temperatures rising as you kissed back.

One of her hands begins caressing your back, and you turn a slight angle to raise her up, leaning her on the table. Having Sophia seated, she feels your fingers fiddling with the hem of her shirt. Lips begin to trail down to her neck, and a trembling moan comes out of her lips.

“This is the real version you wanted to show me?” You tease, and Sophia practically hisses at the comment, “Shut up.”

“Shut up?” You questioned, lifting her up swiftly to turn her over, her upper half now pressed onto the large table. “Let’s hope we don’t argue during this, hm?”

The comment is harmless, but as your hands roam from her back onto her thighs, her body goes rigid. You lift the skimpy skirt over her ass, being given a good view of the thong she’s wearing.

“Isn’t it a good day for me?” she hears you mumble, pressing a finger on the clothed core. Sophia lets out a high-pitched whimper, the warmth of one of your fingers already having her aching down below.

The small line of fabric slowly became damp, and she heard this low chuckle from you. “Who knew Miss President could be so… slutty?”

Sophia wanted to respond, but the feeling of the fabric being pulled to the side had her shuddering as she felt the cool air brushing against her wet cunt.

You kneel down, ready to dig in, but hear a knock that has both of you pause.

… The damn door isn’t locked, and both of you were now staring at it in case the knob began to turn.

“Sophia? You in there?” The voice is too recognizable, and both of you seem to relax a bit when hearing it’s Kayla.

“Yes!” Sophia shouts softly, but sees how the doorknob begins to turn slightly, making her yell, “Don’t come in!”

The franticness in Sophia’s voice has you smirking, deciding to take matters into your own hands. You inch forward, face right in front of her pussy, and give a small lick. She bites her bottom lip, afraid any sound she makes would be heard by her own assistant.

Kayla’s voice is worried behind the door, “Is everything okay?”

There was this quick silence, because past those doors, your tongue plunged into Sophia’s soaking core. You hum against her, her heels kicking up from time to time as a hand covered her mouth. “You should answer before she walks in,” you mumble, loud enough for only Sophia to hear.

As she moves her hand, Sophia practically grits her teeth trying to answer, “I’m fine, Kayla, j-just need some alone time.” The girl stuttering makes you chuckle, taking a long stripe against your tongue out of amusement.

“Is there something I can bring you to help? I know you had a rough day.”

The concern almost makes Sophia break, her mouth agape as she feels your tongue doing laps over, and over, and over again. “Look at how caring she is towards you. I wonder how she would feel if she found her role model and crushed bent over for me.” Sophia’s hand finds the top of your head, gripping your hair again, “she doesn’t like me.”

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.” You stand behind her, adding a finger and feel Sophia tightening around it. “Must wanna trap me here, huh?”

She wants to say something, with freedom, but Kayla’s voice keeps interrupting, “Sophia?” “Uhm,” she lets out one sound, and you add another finger, you move with aching patience, fingers slipping back and pressing in. Sophia almost chokes a yelp, covering her mouth with a hand to quickly recover.

“I’m f-fine. Get some rest, Kayla!”

“You sure? Because you don’t sound too good?” She tries to respond in a friendly manner, but there's a switch in tone when you begin curling your fingers deep into her slit.

“I’m fucking fine, Kayla! Go home!”

Your brows raise, and you look at the wooden door; luckily no frosted windows to show the inside. There’s a heavy sigh. “Sure, have a good night, Sophia.” Both of you hear her footsteps fade away, and using whatever strength she has in her position, Sophia pushes you back with a hand.

You back up, and she flips over, knees apart with her pussy full on display for you. Her eyes are dark, looking a bit annoyed. “There’s no way you just did that.”

“And did,” you simply tell her, pressing your fingers back in as you thrust at a slow pace. You could feel her clench around them, greedy for more. 

The eye contact you made with her only made Sophia want to kiss you again. You were so consistent while watching every reaction she gave you. The sounds of her cunt squelching made you chuckle, biting her lip as she watched you.

“Your ‘dear’ Kayla is probably so heartbroken right now.” You inch closer, picking up the pace that made Sophia whine profusely. “How her favorite person in the world is being fucked by someone deemed as her enemy,” you whisper against her lips, foreheads touching as you make her lean forward more. She feels how your breath grazes against her mouth, the warmth making her even wetter.

You, once again, curl your fingers, hitting the exact spot that has Sophia giving you a loud moan. “What if she walked in? She’d probably be crying at the sight.”

You add another finger, Sophia’s pussy clenching around all three. Her head hangs back at the sensation of feeling full, while you're successfully hitting her G-spot with every thrust and curl.

You quicken the pace just a bit more, and Sophia’s gasping for air. “Kayla would see how well your slutty cunt took my fingers.” Sophia feels you pressing a thumb on her clit, and her thighs begin to quiver. 

“Fuck, Y/n, just like that.”

“She’d see you at your worst behavior, how you're just letting me use you,” You hiss while feeling how slick and messy she was becoming undone on your fingers. Pulling them out, you begin to rub her cunt with her juices coating each finger.

The circular movements at rapid motions have her thighs tensing, “I wanna cum,” she breaths out. You hum and shrug a bit, “Go for it.”

Not stopping her, Sophia’s thighs squeeze around your arm, keeping up the pace as her eyes roll back. You had no intentions of stopping, and she could only hold your forearm to slow you down.

“You must like the possibility of someone walking in, huh?” You take out your hand, flicking them downward to shake off some of her juices.

Sophia thought she had had enough; she couldn’t even respond to you as she took deep breaths. But when you took each finger, sucking each one clean, your tongue sticking out before you put one in… she wanted more.

Her hands trail on the button on her top, quickly undoing it as she sits up from her spot. You're a bit surprised at her course of action, but follow by lifting up your shirt slowly.

“You seem too tired to go on,” you admit, bunching up your shirt and throwing it to the other end of the table. She unclips her bra, staring you down with her eyes full of hunger, “I want you to use me.”

Your hands land on the table, your body leaning forward as your eyes look at her chest rising and dropping quickly, her pussy all swollen from you fucking her, and the way her petite mounds were fully out and hard.

“I-I need you to use me.” She revises her statement, and despite the stutter, it came out with full confidence. You tilt your head, amused by how different this was from her, and effortlessly take off your sports bra.

“So dirty, Laforteza,” the way her surname rolled off your tongue had her spiraling as she spread her legs wider for you. “Use me, Y/n.”

With the demand, you climb on top of her, Sophia feeling your nipples brushing against each other as your fingers go to work. You rub all five fingers against her leaking slit, moving with every intent to make her go crazy.

“This want you want?” You grunt, and Sophia shook her head against the table, “m-more.”

The invitation has you pulling her up to stand, her ass pressed on the edge of the large table as you kneel again. It gave Sophia such a pretty view of you, how the bottom half of your face had a like shine from her juices.

You lick at first, flicking her clit up, and Sophia hunches over slightly. She feels your hands pressing her thighs apart to give yourself more room. “You're so pretty like this,” you blurt against her, then sucking on her clit while one hand thrusts a finger up.

“See how wet you are for me? Such a good girl—doing so good for me,” you admit, but while talking, Sophia just feels the vibrations coursing through her body, leaving her mouth agape with aching moans.

“S-shit, too good,” she licks her lips, becoming dry from how much noise she was making. Her knees buckle slightly, her hand holding her up on the table as you. There was nothing gentle in the way you mouthed at her, tongue plunging deep as she sounded like she was about to sob.

“Y/n, I can’t-” You feel her legs closing, squeezing your head in between. She feels how you shake your head against her, standing and replacing the feeling of your mouth with plunging three fingers in instead.

She’s trying to lift her body away, but you pull her flush against your body, arm wrapping tight around her waist as your fingers never leave her sopping pussy. “Don’t run now—this is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Sophia’s trembling at your words, using your body as balance, as she gasped. “Keep those legs open. I’m not done.” Each roll of her clit sent her hips jerking upward, trying to pull away, only to be dragged back in. "You said you could take it—so take it."

She’s biting her bottom lip, her upper teeth tugging hard as she tries to gain any sense of composure. You look at her, a gleam in your eyes as she holds onto your arm.

“Don’t you wanna be a good girl? “I wanna be good—please—let me be good—” She yelps, not being able to finish her sentence when your hand begins rubbing on her clit. You loop your arm around her back and under her arm, folding with her tit, rolling her nipple between your two fingers.

The begging and overstimulation have tears slowly gliding down her face, the slick sounds getting louder, wetter. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Sophia mumbled repeatedly against your shoulder, head leaning against you like it would help her case.

You feel her legs twitching, sobs turning into breathless whimpers as she comes again with the way your fingers keep plunging in, curling deep.

Feeling bad, you slow down as Sophia’s entire weight leans on you. The moment felt serious and exhausting for both, yet you feel Sophia’s head shaking and her chuckles against your skin.

“Is that enough about me?”

You burst out laughing at the question, the sudden comedic relief hurting your abs. “It’s definitely one version of you.”

She does her best to stand up straight, still using you as somehwat of a crutch while her legs feel like jelly. “Wanna know more?”

Sophia’s clearly looking up at you, deer-like and pleasing as her swollen lips pout like she wants you to spoil her.

“How so?”

Even with you just fucking her, she smiles and wraps her arms around your neck, “Take me out?” 

The question was supposed to come out with the intention of commanding you to do it, but it comes out more uncertain than she wanted. You found it adorable, giving a small peck on her nose to make the moment a little cuter.

“Your wish is my command, President… so like now or?” 

Sophia slaps your arm and the joke, wrapping her arms around your waist this time to give you a hug. “Oh, shut up.”

“You like telling me to do that when you know I won't listen.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever L/n.”