The retreat ended two days later, but the kiss stayed with Cleo like static in his chest—impossible to shake.
Back on campus, life resumed its usual rhythm. Sort of. Classes, projects, deadlines. But *something* had shifted. Cleo could feel it every time he passed Riz in the hallways, every time they made eye contact across the campus café or during student forums. The air between them was different now. Charged.
And Cleo hated how often he caught himself *looking*.
He tried to ignore it—tried to pretend things were normal. But his thoughts betrayed him. He started showing up early for lectures, hoping to pass Riz by "accident." He lingered in the studio halls between classes. And when he saw Riz laughing with his classmates, he felt... something sharp twist in his chest.
It wasn't jealousy.
It couldn't be jealousy.
It was just... curiosity. Irritation. Maybe indigestion.
Definitely not jealousy.
---
The final blow came one afternoon in the student café.
Cleo had gone in for a quick coffee—black, no sugar, just the way he liked it—and had nearly walked straight into Riz.
Riz, who was seated at a corner table with his sketchpad out, deep in concentration.
Cleo hesitated—just for a second—but that was enough for Riz to look up and smile.
"You following me, Reyes?" Riz said, voice warm.
"No," Cleo said quickly, then regretted how fast it came out. "Just... coffee."
"Sit with me?"
Cleo looked around. "Why?"
"Because you look like you could use a break. And you clearly *miss* me."
Cleo rolled his eyes but sat anyway. "I *barely* tolerated you during the retreat."
"And yet, here you are."
Riz went back to sketching. Cleo sipped his coffee in silence, stealing glances at the page. It was some kind of architectural form—curved lines intersecting like waves, flowing into tall columns. It looked organic. Complex. Beautiful.
"You're good," Cleo muttered.
Riz glanced up, clearly caught off guard. "Did you just compliment me?"
"Don't make it weird."
"Too late."
Cleo's gaze dropped to the corner of the page, where a figure stood shaded in delicate pencil strokes. Strong jaw, messy hair, familiar slouch.
"Is that me?" Cleo asked.
Riz hesitated. "Yeah."
Cleo stared at it, heart doing something strange in his chest. "Why?"
"You don't see yourself the way I do," Riz said softly. "But I've been drawing you since high school. You're kind of... unforgettable."
Cleo's stomach flipped.
He stood up suddenly. "I have to go."
"Cleo—"
"I can't—this is— I need time."
Riz didn't stop him. Just nodded once.
"Okay," he said. "But when you're ready... I'm not going anywhere."
---
That night, Cleo lay awake again, replaying Riz's words over and over.
*You don't see yourself the way I do.*
Was that why he couldn't stop thinking about him? Because Riz looked at him like he was more than just a rival? Like he was worth seeing?
Cleo sat up, heart pounding. Maybe he didn't have it all figured out. Maybe this was all new and terrifying and completely outside the careful plans he'd drawn for his life.
But Riz—*Riz*—was still there. Waiting.
And Cleo wasn't ready to let go of him.
Not yet.
---
End of Chapter Three