Blick's name was on every tongue the next morning. Whether whispered in stairways, shouted across the canteen, or tagged in anonymous memes on the campus group chats—he had become a walking, talking viral headline.
#BlickTheBeast
#CaféFightHero
#ThatAbsThough
Kiara scrolled through her phone, groaning. "Oh my god, someone actually edited your abs with sparklers. Look at this—are those... fireworks?"
Blick leaned over her shoulder. "Who made this? That's not even my body!"
"Dude," said Rizwan, joining them in the hallway. "You've hit Bhai status now. Someone painted your name on the boys' hostel wall in blood-red graffiti."
"Too much?"
"Totally earned."
But the fame came with shadows.
---
Dean Trouble and Tight Jeans
That afternoon, a college admin summoned Blick and Kiara to the principal's office.
A strict lady with square glasses greeted them with folded arms.
"Mr. Blick, Ms. Kiara—word around the campus is you were involved in an altercation outside college property. Is this true?"
Kiara stepped forward, face calm. "He was defending me. Those boys cornered us. They threw the first punch."
Blick nodded silently.
The dean sighed. "We don't condone violence, but... unofficially? Good punch, kid. Just stay clean, alright?"
As they left the office, Kiara nudged him. "Told you your abs would get you a free pass."
---
Ramp Practice: Legs, Laughs, and Lip Bites
That evening, ramp walk practice resumed. The hall was buzzing with heat—both literal and sexual.
Girls paraded in thigh-high slits and glittering tops. Boys flaunted gym-toned arms in sleeveless shirts. The air was thick with perfume and tension.
Kiara arrived in an off-shoulder red crop top and tight bell-bottom jeans that hugged every curve.
Blick, in a simple white tee stretched over his chest, couldn't help but stare.
"Eyes up, soldier," Kiara teased.
"Can't help it. Your outfit's committing a crime."
Nearby, a clumsy guy named Abhay tripped on the practice ramp, landing in a dramatic pose.
"Ten points for the superhero landing!" someone shouted.
Laughter exploded. Kiara giggled, almost falling herself.
Blick caught her, hands firmly on her waist.
"You just like being in my arms," he whispered.
She winked. "Maybe."
Their chemistry was sizzling, but so was the gossip.
---
Ayesha's Revenge & the Leaked Photo
Meanwhile, Ayesha had paired with a tall, flirtatious model named Veer. He looked like a Greek god with a jawline so sharp it could cut diamonds.
Kiara pretended not to care. Blick didn't. Until—
Whispers spread.
"Have you seen it?"
"What? The photo."
"Where Blick is kissing Ayesha—full on the lips."
Kiara's stomach dropped. She opened her phone. There it was.
A blurry but damning photo. Blick, leaning close to Ayesha. Her lips puckered. His face near hers.
A caption screamed: "Player or Hero? Decide soon, Kiara."
Blick found Kiara pacing outside the hall.
"You kissed her?" she asked coldly.
"What? No!"
"Then what's this?" She shoved the phone in his face.
He blinked. "This isn't real. I never kissed her. Someone edited this—maybe that camera girl."
Kiara folded her arms. "It looks real."
"Do you trust me?"
She didn't answer.
---
The Rooftop Reconciliation
Later that night, Blick sat alone on the rooftop of the boys' hostel, under string lights someone had hung for decoration. A chilly breeze whipped his shirt.
Kiara showed up quietly, holding two cups of hot chocolate.
"I overreacted," she said. "I guess I'm not used to liking someone this much."
He smiled. "And I'm not used to being liked."
They sat together. Kiara leaned against his shoulder.
"Your muscles are like… a pillow made of bricks," she murmured.
He laughed. "Sexy compliment. Thanks."
"Blick?"
"Yeah?"
She turned to face him, eyes sparkling. "Would it be crazy to say I want to kiss you again?"
He didn't reply. He just leaned in.
Their lips met softly—then hungrily.
She straddled his lap, arms wrapping around his neck. His hands found her waist, pulling her close as the kiss deepened.
"I should be mad at you," she whispered between kisses.
"Then punish me."
She bit his lip.
"Ow! I meant… damn, okay."
She giggled. "You're cute when you flinch."
---
Backstage Espionage: The Camera Girl's Dilemma
While they kissed under the stars, the camera girl—Meera—sat backstage in the auditorium, staring at her laptop.
The original photo file was untouched. She had faked the kiss with Photoshop. Danny had paid her to leak it.
But now?
She felt sick.
Her phone buzzed.
Voice note from Danny: "Good job. But don't get soft. If Blick wins the show, we ruin him. You're in this now."
Meera bit her lip. She opened her gallery. One photo showed Blick holding Kiara's face gently, smiling like he truly cared.
She hovered her finger over the delete button. But didn't press it.
Not yet.
---
The Next Day: Drama Returns
As Blick entered college, a few boys mockingly bowed.
"Sir Blick! Destroyer of faces, breaker of hearts."
Kiara, beside him, laughed. "You should wear a cape."
Ayesha passed by, flipping her hair. "Try not to fall this time, Kiara. Ramp's tomorrow. Don't wanna embarrass your hero."
"Worried he'll trip into my arms again?" Kiara shot back.
Ayesha smirked. "Enjoy your fantasy while it lasts."
Blick held Kiara's hand tightly.
"Let them talk," he whispered.
She nodded. "Let's give them something real to talk about."
They walked to class, the tension behind them...
...or so they thought.
Behind the pillars, Meera raised her camera again.
Her finger hovered over the shutter.
Then she turned it off.
But someone else behind her didn't.
A pair of boys in hoods stood by the stairway, watching Blick. One pulled out his phone and made a call.
"He's getting too popular. We move after the ramp. Got it?"