The One I Never Saw coming

chapter 01: Of Sidekicks and Arch-Nemeses

I burst through the door, heart racing and coffee sloshing dangerously in my mug. Glancing at the clock, I realized I was ridiculously late-again. Still in my flannel PJs, my hair a messy bun, and with this sticky honey egg mask plastered on my face, I looked like a walking disaster.

I barely made it two steps before the coffee slipped from my grip, splattering across the floor in a steaming mess. Perfect. These late-night Netflix binges were really starting to get the best of me. I mean, sure, I loved a good cliffhanger, but I hated waking up late even more. Every time I hit "Next Episode," I was basically setting up tomorrow's disaster. And here I was, scrambling to make up for it.

As if on cue, my phone started buzzing with texts. No doubt from Ally or Ruth, asking if I'd remembered anything about our plans. I muttered a curse, grabbing some paper towels to clean the mess. It was going to be one of those mornings, and I was already way too far behind to stop it from snowballing into total chaos.

Just as I thought things couldn't get more ridiculous, the doorbell rang. I figured it was Eliza, the five-year-old from downstairs who's somehow more put together than I'll ever be. She's basically my tiny best friend and therapist rolled into one.

But when I swung open the door, it wasn't Liza standing there.

It was Julian Styles.

I blinked, rubbing my eyes as if I was dreaming but nope. There he was-Julian Styles, in the flesh. Not some hallucination or ghostly vision, but standing right there in the corridor.

This wasn't how I'd imagined it, though. Oh, I'd pictured this reunion a thousand times. I'd look incredible, of course-effortlessly put-together, the perfect mix of mystery and charm. I'd be wearing something chic, hair styled just right, all polished confidence. But here I was instead, wearing flannel PJs with a facemask that had me looking like some horror show extra.

For a moment, I could barely process that it was really him. Those eyes were the same, an almost unnerving shade of blue, but the rest? Different. Taller. Lean but solid. And that calm, almost intimidating confidence-so far from the scrappy kid I used to battle over the last slice of pizza at birthday parties.

Julian freaking Styles. The guy I couldn't stand growing up, my childhood enemy. And here he was, back in town after all these years. The worst part? He didn't even recognize me through the facemask. Maybe that was for the best.

He stood there, looking almost impossibly polished. His tall, lean frame was dressed in a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal strong forearms. The shirt was tucked neatly into charcoal-gray dress pants, perfectly tailored to his build. His chestnut-brown hair was slightly tousled, giving him that effortlessly styled look, and his striking blue eyes held a calm confidence I wasn't used to seeing in him.

The years had definitely been kind to him-way too kind. He looked like he'd stepped out of some designer catalog, I never asked for.

Maybe the universe was punishing me.

He shifted awkwardly, his hand running through his chestnut brown hair. His expression was a weird mix of discomfort and... politeness? "Sorry to disturb you this early in the morning," he started, his voice soft and familiar. "Can you please guide me to Wallace Avenue?"

Then he smiled.Smiled. At me.

I blinked, trying to process what was happening. Julian Styles-my childhood nemesis-was smiling at me. We didn't smile at each other. We exchanged smirks, glares, sarcastic remarks... but actual smiles? That had never been part of the equation.