There was something different about the air in Lunebourne.
Maybe it was the way the fog clung to the edges of the forest, or how the breeze carried the faintest scent of pine and cold metal. Or maybe it was just the fact that Regina Anderson-Wu had transferred here two days ago and already gotten lost—twice.
Today made it three.
She stood beside the ivy-covered fountain just outside the east arch of Lunebourne University, staring down at her phone. The campus map app wasn't helping. The buildings all looked the same—grey stone, ancient, moody. Even the sun filtering through the tree canopy felt unsure of itself.
Her phone vibrated, and as she tilted her head to check, the strawberry-shaped hair clip that barely held her bangs slipped and hit the pavement with a soft clink.
"Seriously?" she muttered, bending to pick it up. "Who designed this stupid map?"
She stood at the edge of the road, map upside down, heart beating a little too fast.
Then—
The sound of wheels on gravel.A single beam of light through the morning fog.And a boy on a bike, heading straight toward her.
Here comes the sun.
He stopped just close enough for her to see the half-smile under his helmet.
"You're lost," he said.
A voice replied, casual and amused."You need directions, transfer girl?"
She looked up. A pair of polished black boots had stopped next to her clip. The owner crouched down to pick it up—he was taller than she expected, wearing a half-rolled white shirt and black jeans, his sleeves pushed up to reveal a tattoo in delicate French cursive: Liberté.
He handed her the clip with a crooked smile.
His dark hair was slicked back, but not neatly—it looked like he'd done it in five seconds with gel and a prayer. There was a faint glint of sweat at his collarbone, and something in the way he looked at her—casual, sharp, like he already knew her—made her feel… caught.
"…How did you know I'm a transfer?" Regina asked, fingers tightening around her ID badge.
He tilted his head, amused. "Only the foreign language department uses CFL on their lanyards. And you've walked past this fountain three times in the last hour."
"You've been watching me?" she frowned.
He shrugged. "Hard not to notice. You're the only one lost in a place this small."
She blinked. "…Right."
"Connor Tsai," he said, offering a hand she didn't take. "Former French major. Now English."
"Where are you heading?" she asked instead, ignoring the hand.
"The languages building," he replied. "But I can't find room 204."
Regina let out a sharp laugh. "Same."
He raised an eyebrow. "Need a ride?"
She squinted. "Ride? What, like a scooter?"
He tilted his head toward the rack behind him.A half-rusted bicycle leaned casually against the stone wall. It had stickers on the frame—some faded, some in French, some just weird little ghosts.
He grinned.
"I'll take you to get lost together."
"Hop on," Connor repeated, nodding toward the bike. "It's either this or we get lost separately."
Regina hesitated.
There were a thousand reasons to say no. Stranger danger. Awkward silence. Her dress probably wasn't bike-friendly. But her legs were tired, her brain was fried, and something about him—something reckless and a little bit off—made her curious.
"…Fine," she muttered, slinging her tote bag across her chest.
He waited until she climbed onto the back rack, then kicked off the ground with practiced ease.
The bike wobbled once, then found its rhythm.
The wind rushed past her ears. Pine trees blurred at the corners of her vision. She gripped the sides of the seat instinctively, trying not to lean into him, trying not to notice the faint smell of cedar, leather, and—
Was that… coffee?
"Better hold on," Connor said over his shoulder, coasting around a bend. "The Lunebourne Shuttle's a limited-time service."
Regina blinked. "Is that… what you call this?"
"You prefer Uber?" he grinned.
She rolled her eyes, but couldn't stop the small laugh that slipped out. It was the kind of laugh she hadn't made in a while—the surprised kind, the kind that escaped before her brain could stop it.
Ten minutes later, they rolled to a stop in front of the Foreign Languages building.
He glanced back. "End of the line."
She hopped off awkwardly, brushing down her skirt. "Thanks for the ride, I guess."
"You guess?"
She looked at him. He was still smiling. Not the charming kind of smile, but the I-know-something-you-don't kind.
It annoyed her.But it also made her heart skip. Just a little.
"…I could've walked, you know."
"Sure," he said, turning his bike around. "But now you didn't have to."
As he rode off, she realized—
He never even asked for her name.
She stood there for a moment, the wind still playing with the hem of her dress, the faint scent of pine and... whatever that was still lingering in the air.
She looked up at the stone building in front of her, then down at the now-crumpled campus map in her hand.
And for the first time since she'd arrived in the city Lunebourne, she smiled.
Maybe… this new place wasn't so scary after all.