Twisted Fates

complicated

Noah's POV

The apartment smelled like fresh paint and new beginnings, but I wasn't buying into it. Being here wasn't my choice—not Penn State, not the business major, and definitely not the whole "starting over" spiel my dad thought would magically fix me.

"This is your chance to prove you're ready," he'd said. "The company needs a leader. Penn State will give you the foundation you need, and when you're done, you'll take over."

I didn't want to take over. I didn't want to spend my life in some corner office managing stocks and investments, pretending to care about the empire my dad built. But when your father owns half of New York and has your future mapped out before you're even born, your opinions don't matter.

So here I was, playing along. My one consolation was that I had my own place, no roommates to deal with. It made it easier to keep people at arm's length, something I'd perfected over the years.

That's why I threw the party last night. If I was going to be stuck here, I was at least going to have some fun. Or try to, anyway.

What I wasn't expecting was for Sofia to walk through my door.

The second I saw her, it felt like the air had been knocked out of my lungs. Her hair was a little longer, her face a little sharper, but she was still the same Sofia—the girl who could set me on fire with a single look.

"What am I doing here?" she snapped, cutting me off before I could say anything. "I live across the hall, and you're the one throwing a party loud enough to wake the entire building!"

Her voice was sharp, her expression full of the same fire that had always driven me crazy. It was like no time had passed, like we were still those two people who couldn't seem to stay out of each other's way.

I wanted to argue, to give her a taste of the attitude she was throwing at me, but instead, I found myself staring at her, remembering all the things I'd spent months trying to forget.

It made me mad. Mad at her for showing up and messing with my head, and mad at myself for letting her.

"You haven't changed a bit," I said, my voice sharper than I intended.

She glared at me, and for a moment, I thought she might actually slap me. But instead, she spun around and left, slamming the door behind her.

I stood there for a long moment, trying to shake the feeling she always seemed to leave in her wake. Then I grabbed another drink, turned up the music, and pretended it didn't bother me.

But it did.

The next morning, I told myself it was going to be a normal day. No Sofia, no drama. Just coffee and whatever else this new life demanded of me.

Then I saw her at the café, laughing with that guy behind the counter. Ethan.

I knew him—friendly, easygoing, the kind of guy everyone liked. I watched as Sofia tilted her head, her smile soft and a little shy, and something twisted in my chest.

It wasn't jealousy. I didn't care who Sofia talked to. She could flirt with Ethan all she wanted. It had nothing to do with me.

I was still convincing myself of that when she turned around and walked straight into me, spilling her coffee all over my shirt.

"Seriously?" I said, glaring down at her.

Her wide eyes and startled expression lasted only a second before she was snapping at me, blaming me for the spill like it was my fault she couldn't walk in a straight line.

"You're unbelievable," she said, rolling her eyes as she pushed past me.

"Right back at you," I muttered under my breath, watching her leave.

The rest of the day was a blur, but I couldn't stop thinking about her. The way she looked at Ethan, the way her voice got softer when she talked to him. It shouldn't have bothered me.

But later that night, when I heard her laughing through the thin walls, my irritation bubbled over.

I didn't think—I just acted, banging on her door like it was the most natural thing in the world.

When she opened it, she looked surprised, but the irritation in her eyes was almost immediate.

"The walls are thin, Sofia," I said, leaning against the doorframe. "I can hear you flirting with him from my apartment."

Her expression darkened, and for a second, I thought she might actually slam the door in my face without a word.

Instead, she glared at me. "Unbelievable," she muttered.

Ethan appeared behind her, looking awkward and a little confused. "Uh, I think I'll head out. It's late anyway."

I watched him leave, trying not to look too smug about it.

"This is why no one likes you," Sofia said, her voice cutting.

It stung, but I shrugged it off. "You're welcome for the heads-up."

She laughed—a short, sarcastic sound—and slammed the door in my face.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door. The irritation I felt wasn't just about her. It was about everything—this school, this life, my dad. And Sofia, somehow, had become the lightning rod for it all.

But as I walked back to my apartment, I couldn't shake the feeling that I didn't hate her as much as I wanted to.

And that was a problem.