I woke up to absolute silence.

  There was no Sensei yelling at me to fix my posture. There were no high school rumors. There were no disappointed looks from my former friends. Just the quiet, empty space of my new apartment.

  The scent of fresh paint and new furniture greeted me as I walked into the kitchen. I brewed a pot of bck coffee, letting the rich, bitter aroma fill the spacious loft. Ahhh. I stepped out onto my private balcony, lit a cigarette, and took a slow drag, washing it down with a sip of hot coffee. This was the perfect way to start a day. I was finally operating on my own terms.

  I id out a tactical pn for my first day. Step one: walk the perimeter of my neighborhood to familiarize myself with the grid. Step two: run a practice drive to the UIC campus to measure the traffic lights and commute time. Step three: locate a neutral hangout spot—a café or a park—for when the loft started to feel too custrophobic.

  I grabbed my jacket and hit the pavement.

  After walking a few blocks, the July heat started getting to me. I scanned the sidewalk for a pce to rest and smoke. I spotted a wooden bench under the thick shade of an oak tree. The only catch was that the other half of the bench was already occupied by a guy in a tracksuit, smoking a cigarette and staring at the traffic.

  I walked up. "Excuse me," I said, offering a polite, neutral nod.

  He looked me up and down, gave a sharp nod in return, and shifted his knees to make room. I sat down on the opposite end, pulled out my pack, and lit up.

  We sat in silence for a minute before he suddenly spoke.

  "You European too?" he asked. His voice was deep, ced with a thick, unmistakable Russian accent. He leaned forward and offered his hand. "Nikoy."

  I looked at his hand, then met his eyes. He wasn't a threat; he was just genuinely curious. "Daeron," I replied, shaking his hand firmly. "And yes, technically. I was born in Denmark, but I've lived in the States since I was seven."

  "You're Danish?" Nikoy squinted through the cigarette smoke, studying my face. "But you look Balkan, brother. You have the dark hair and the grey eyes."

  "It's a mix," I smirked. "My father is Spanish-Serbian, and my mother is Danish-Russian."

  "Blyad! Very confusing genetics!" he burst into a booming, infectious ugh that echoed down the street.

  "What about you?" I asked, rexing my posture. "Your name and accent are pure Russian."

  "My father is German, and my mother is Russian. I was actually born in Germany, so my passport says I am German, but I spent most of my life growing up in the Mothernd," he ughed, waving his cigarette in the air. "So, did you move in around here recently? You don't carry yourself like a tourist."

  "Yeah. I'm starting csses soon. I'm going to study at UIC."

  "Oh, ho! Me too! I’m already a sophomore there."

  "Nice. I’m an incoming freshman. I just moved into my loft a few blocks down the street."

  "Bomba! We are neighbors, then!" he grinned, his enthusiasm completely unfiltered. "We definitely have to party together ter! I know some frat houses near campus that throw incredible parties. Lots of pussies, brother!"

  I chuckled at his bluntness. It was a massive contrast to Alvin's nerdy rambling or Tyson's serious lectures. "Hahaha, sure. Couldn't hurt to check it out."

  "I know some great local pubs too. We'll visit them this weekend!"

  "Whoa, hold on," I raised a hand. "I’m only nineteen. I don't have a fake ID. I’m pretty sure they won't let me in."

  "Bah! Nonsense!" Nikoy waved off my concern with a flick of his wrist. "If you walk in with Nikoy, you get a free pass everywhere! They know me. So, what do you say?"

  I looked at him. I had spent the st six months pushing people away. But sitting here with this loud, confident Russian guy, I realized I had a completely bnk ste. I didn't have to be the disgraced martial artist anymore.

  "Well... fuck it," I smiled, pulling out my phone. "Let’s exchange numbers so you can text me the address ter."

  "Bomba! That’s my guy!"

  After we exchanged contacts, we shot the breeze for a little while longer before I headed back to my loft.

  Later that afternoon, I executed step two of my pn, driving the route to campus to memorize the traffic patterns. By the time I returned home, the city already felt a little smaller.

  During my first month living in Chicago, I ended up hanging out with Nikoy almost every day. He was true to his word. He showed me the underground local bars where the bouncers looked the other way. He introduced me to his inner circle—Boris and Andrew, two other UIC sophomores who shared his chaotic, high-energy vibe.

  Through them, my quiet, isoted summer was completely shattered. I officially abandoned my disciplined past and dove headfirst into the loud, intoxicating party life of University.

  **

  A week before the fall semester officially kicked off, my phone buzzed. Jessica had finally moved into her dorm at UChicago.

  I immediately texted her, asking if she wanted to hang out that night. She replied that she actually wanted to see my new loft first. I offered to drive down and pick her up, but she stubbornly insisted on taking the "L" train alone because she wanted to learn how to navigate the city transit. I texted her my address and waited.

  About thirty minutes ter, she texted that she was at the corner bodega. I threw on a fitted bck t-shirt and a leather jacket, and walked down to the street level to guide her up.

  I spotted her instantly on the sidewalk. But when she saw me, she stopped dead in her tracks.

  "Daeron?" Her green eyes were wide, blinking in genuine surprise.

  "What’s up with you, Jess?" I squinted, wondering if I had spilled something on my shirt.

  She closed the distance between us. Instead of hugging me, she reached up, her cool fingers gently tracing my jawline. "My God. Just in one month... you look so different." Her eyes scanned me from head to toe, taking in the leather jacket, the fitted jeans, and the boots.

  "What do you mean?" I asked, a slow smirk forming.

  "You look… more manly," she breathed. "I love your new haircut. Your whole style changed! You don't look like a high school bum anymore."

  I ughed, shaking my head. "I looked like a bum?"

  "Yeah!! You used to wear baggy gym clothes all the time! How come you look so completely different after just thirty days in the city?"

  "Uhh, I don’t know. I made some new friends," I expined casually. "I met this guy named Nikoy. He's a sophomore at UIC. He’s been showing me around the underground city scene and introducing me to his crew. Because I still looked like a stiff high school athlete, they took me shopping. They suggested I change up my style so I looked older and more mature... mostly so bouncers wouldn't card us at the local bars."

  "Whoa! Whoa! Hold on." Jessica ughed, her eyes lighting up with genuine excitement. "So in your first month here, the stoic Karate kid has already become a wild party dude?"

  "Uhh, alright, enough roasting," I chuckled, gently grabbing her hand. "Come on. Let me show you my pce."

  "Let’s go. I’m dying of curiosity!" Her eyes shone brightly as she followed me into the building lobby. She leaned close to my ear as we stepped into the elevator. "And… you look incredibly handsome right now, Tiger," she whispered, her voice low and sultry.

  I just smirked, the familiar, addictive rush of her attention flooding my veins.

  *

  I unlocked the heavy wooden door. Jessica stepped inside and gasped. She immediately dropped her bag and started wandering around the massive, open-concept loft, her hands trailing over the exposed brick walls and the new furniture.

  "Oh my God! Tiger, your pce is amazing! Look at this space! You have a private balcony too!"

  "Let me grab us some beers," I said, heading to the kitchen isnd. "Grab those heavy floor cushions and set them up out there."

  By the time I walked out onto the balcony with two cold bottles, Jessica had already arranged the cushions around a small coffee table. The city lights glowed beautifully behind her.

  "Ahhh," she sighed happily, leaning back against the brick exterior and taking a long swig of her beer. "I think this balcony is officially going to become our new hangout spot."

  "Of course it is. You’re always welcome here, Cheeto," I smiled, sitting down across from her. I loved seeing her look so comfortable in my territory. "So... why did you decide to move into a tiny campus dorm anyway?"

  She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, the city wind blowing her shortened red hair. "I wanted to familiarize myself with the whole 'college life' experience first. Just for the first semester, at least."

  "I don't expect a girl like you to be comfortable living in a cramped dorm, though."

  "I'm not," she groaned, rolling her eyes. "At first, I thought I was going to get a single room, you know? It turns out I have to share a tiny shoebox with a random roommate. And the communal bathrooms are awful."

  "Well, you said it yourself. You wanted the authentic college life experience, right?" I teased.

  "Yeah... but it’s really not what I expected," she muttered, taking another long drink to numb her frustration.

  "Well, move in with me then," I offered. I kept my voice perfectly casual, but my heart beat a little faster. "There’s plenty of closet space for your stuff in the loft."

  She froze. She looked away, her eyes distant as she stared out at the passing headlights on the street below. "Let me... consider it first. I just moved all my boxes in over there."

  "Sure," I said, pulling out a cigarette to hide my disappointment. "The offer stands. My door is always open."

  "Why did you choose this specific pce, though?" she asked suddenly, her eyes narrowing as she looked back into the massive living room. "It's so far from your csses."

  "Because the industrial vibe is cool here, and it’s honestly not that far of a drive to UIC. Plus... the rent is affordable."

  "Affordable?" She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Daeron, I’m not an idiot. I can tell this loft is incredibly expensive."

  Shit. I had to py it cool. I didn't want to admit my dad owned the building; I wanted her to think I was independent. "Well, spending a little extra cash is necessary as long as we’re vibing with the pce, you know?" I deflected smoothly.

  She let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders dropping. "That’s true. I did try to look around at some vacant apartments near UChicago too, but most of them didn't meet my expectations yet."

  "Oh? So you initially wanted to rent your own pce instead of staying in a dorm?"

  "Well… yeah," she admitted quietly. "That’s why I decided to just move into the dorm for the first semester. To buy some time. And to get familiar with college life," she repeated her rehearsed excuse, taking another drink. "Anyway! Stop talking about boring real estate. Tell me the story of your first month here! I am dead curious how the hell you changed so much."

  I spent the next two hours talking, the smoke from my cigarette mixing with the cold beer. I told her all about Nikoy's crazy Russian energy, Boris, Andrew, and the underground spots I had discovered. She listened intently, her eyes wide with fascination at my new, unrestricted life.

  Late that night, she finally checked her phone and said she had to head back to the dorm to finish unpacking. We agreed to meet up again ter in the week once her css schedule was finalized. I drove her back to Hyde Park, dropping her off near the UChicago dorms. As I drove back to my empty loft, I couldn't help but hope she would take me up on my offer to move in.