Chapter 7: Coffee Collisions & Close Calls

Vee’s POV

I never wanted to be the center of attention. Especially not at the campus coffee shop, where everyone was either trying to look cool or drowning in their own stress with a giant cup of caffeine. But somehow, fate always had a way of throwing me right into the spotlight — usually in the worst possible way.

That day, I was on my way to meet a study group when I spotted him. Zay. Standing by the counter, leaning like he owned the place, his trademark cocky smirk firmly in place. The sight of him twisted my stomach into knots — not the kind that faded away easily.

I tried to avoid him. I told myself I’d just slip past quietly, maybe order a coffee from the corner, and disappear before he noticed. But of course, it never worked like that. No matter how many times I thought I could outrun him, he was always there — right where I least wanted him.

As I rounded the corner, heart racing, I didn’t see him step forward. Our collision was sudden and messy — my coffee cup tipped, spilling dark liquid all over my books and jeans. I gasped in horror.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” I blurted out, eyes wide as I stared at the mess. I felt the heat rush to my cheeks, burning with embarrassment.

Zay immediately dropped to his knees, grabbing napkins with surprising gentleness. “Relax,” he said with that infuriating smirk. “It’s just coffee.”

I wanted to push him away, to yell at him for ruining my stuff, but instead, I just stood there frozen, watching as he dabbed at the stain on my jeans.

“You’re always causing trouble, huh?” he teased, eyes glinting.

I crossed my arms, trying to keep my composure. “Maybe you should watch where you’re standing,” I snapped.

He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

His voice was low, and even though I tried not to, I felt my heart skip a beat. It was moments like this that confused me the most — when the lines between annoyance and something else blurred.

We stood like that for a moment, the tension thick and electric. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to scream at him to leave me alone or admit the small part of me that missed this chaotic energy he brought.

“You’re impossible,” I muttered, half in frustration, half in something I didn’t want to admit.

“And you’re worth it,” he said softly, eyes locking with mine.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut.

I wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe there was more behind the bullying and possessiveness — that maybe, just maybe, he cared in a way I never understood.

But trusting him felt like walking a tightrope over a canyon — thrilling but terrifying.

After that, he didn’t say much. But I could feel him everywhere — in the crowded hallways, the silent library corners, even in my dreams.

It was exhausting and thrilling all at once.

That night, lying in bed, I kept replaying the coffee shop collision over and over. Was this really the start of something new? Or was it just another twisted game in a long history of broken trust?

One thing was clear:

With Zay, nothing was ever simple