"That night, she ran from the noise, and into the arms of someone who had been watching her all along."
It was a cold winter night in early 2007. Celeste walked into a party she knew too well, but tonight, everything felt off. The bar was blindingly bright, filled with laughter, loud music, and people trying too hard to look like they belonged. Everyone was playing a role.
She stood by the window, watching the rain trace lines down the glass. The glittering world behind her felt distant, fake—she didn't want to play along anymore. Without a word, she grabbed her coat and slipped out.
Outside, the air was sharp and cold, the kind that clears your mind. Celeste took a deep breath. It hurt a little, but it was the kind of hurt that reminded her she was still real. She didn't belong in those circles—not really. She was there because her family expected her to be. But expectations didn't feel like a good enough reason anymore.
She pulled out her phone and dialed a number she knew by heart.
"Hey Jett, where are you?"
His voice came through, casual as ever, layered with the sounds of another bar behind him. "Not there yet. Might take a bit."
She sighed. "I can't deal with these people tonight. It's exhausting."
"Then don't. Sit tight. I'll get you out of there."
She smiled despite herself. Celeste always had a way of grounding her. After the call, her stomach churned from the alcohol, so she ducked into a quiet tea shop nearby.
The warmth of the tea seeped into her hands, calming her. She leaned against the window, watching the world go by. This—this simplicity—was where she could finally breathe.
Then, her phone lit up.
[Jett: I can't leave yet. I'm sending Nolan to get you.]
Nolan?
Her fingers hovered over the message. Nolan was the new guy—half-Chinese, half-Canadian, a basketball prodigy who barely spoke but somehow had every girl's attention. Tall, sharp-featured, unreadable. Everyone thought he and Jett were like brothers, and more than a few girls cried over one while watching the other.
Not long after, a black motorcycle pulled up outside. Celeste looked up to see Nolan step off, remove his helmet, and walk toward her like he had all the time in the world. Heads turned. Of course they did. He moved like someone born used to being stared at.
He nodded at her. "Hey "Coach". Jett didn't want you waiting alone."
He handed her the helmet with a calm ease, like this wasn't the first time he'd picked her up.
Wait, how did he know where I was?
Before she could ask, they were on the bike. She instinctively held onto the back of his jacket. He was steady. Unshakably steady.
The wind roared past them, and she closed her eyes, trying to keep her heart from racing. Was it the speed, the cold—or something else entirely?
When they reached her house, Nolan parked the bike and helped her down. His hands were gentle as he removed her helmet.
"If you ever need someone to pick you up," he said quietly, "just call me. I'll be here for you."
His voice was calm but certain. Like a promise.
She stared at him. Did he mean that?
He only smiled.
She didn't know that he already knew exactly where she was. That long ago—under a different moon—he'd seen her once, and never looked away.
Section 2: A Hangover Morning — "I Want to Return It Myself"
Celeste woke up with a pounding headache and a parched throat, blinking at the familiar ceiling above her. It took several seconds before it clicked—she was home.
Her mouth was dry like sandpaper. She reached for the warm glass of water on her nightstand and chugged it down, the liquid scorching yet oddly soothing.
Staggering toward the mirror, she let out a gasp. Dark circles. Frizzy hair. The lingering smell of last night's alcohol... and worst of all, a big angry pimple blooming on her chin."I'm a disaster!" she groaned, clutching her head before bolting out of the room.
Downstairs, the living room was bathed in gentle afternoon light. Velvet pillows in her favorite color were neatly arranged on the cream sofa. Fresh flowers and a fruit platter sat prettily on the coffee table. It looked just like her—bright, chaotic, but warm.
Aunt Qiu, their long-time housekeeper, handed her a cup of golden tea. Celeste suspected it was just lemon and honey, but still downed it like it was magic. "Afternoon already," Aunt Qiu said with a calm smile. "You slept through breakfast. Might as well wash up and wait for dinner."
Aunt Qiu had served three generations of her family. A self-combed woman—a rare tradition where a woman declares lifelong independence and chooses not to marry. But to Celeste, she was more than history. She was home. Quiet, dependable, always there with the right tea or soup.
Celeste yawned and mumbled, "If I party like that again, just throw me in a lake."
Aunt Qiu chuckled. "Dinner's special. Came from the Bei family."Celeste froze mid-sip.
"…Nolan?" she asked, voice cracking a little. Aunt Qiu nodded, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Very polite boy. Big eyes, sharp nose, pale skin like snow. Quite the looker. Foreign mix, I think?"
Celeste said nothing.
Because the truth was, her crush on Nolan.B wasn't a passing thing.
It went all the way back to freshman year, when Jett.W—her childhood friend and secret safety net—had suddenly disappeared without warning.He returned midsummer with a mysterious grin, claiming to have brought back "a ridiculously good player" to join the team.
Everyone waited weeks for the new guy to show up.And then—Nolan walked into their lives like a whisper of wind.
Except… not quite a whisper.
When he first arrived at school, the whole place exploded.
Tall. Ridiculously handsome. Accompanied by a translator in a suit—not arranged by the school, but apparently self-funded. Rumor said the man's name was Miles Lin, but he only ever said: "Call me A-Mai."
Celeste, as the team manager, had seen all kinds of players come and go. She'd patched up bruises, fought for court time, and handled countless last-minute crises.But she had barely exchanged more than a few words with Nolan.He was always… distant. Like someone who stepped off a magazine cover—immaculate, composed, untouched by chaos.
And of course, she hadn't been immune to that.
He wasn't like Jett, all loud jokes and reckless fire. Nolan was the eye of the storm—quiet, polite, controlled.Since his arrival, the training courts were always full.Every time he sank a three-pointer, all the girls—and yes, her too—couldn't look away.
So yeah. She got the hype.
But what she didn't get was this—
"He likes you," Aunt Qiu said offhandedly, placing a plate on the table.
"W-what?!" Celeste nearly knocked over her cup.
"You threw up on him, by the way. We had to peel you off him. He's wearing one of Jett's old shirts now. I'm getting his clothes dry-cleaned."
Her mind blanked."When… when did that happen?" she stammered.
Aunt Qiu shrugged. "While we were dragging you inside, I guess. You clung to him like a koala. I didn't even get to buy groceries."
Celeste bolted back upstairs, hair flying, groaning, "Kill me now!"
Last night was a blur. All she remembered was the glow of a convenience store… Nolan's profile… and then—nothing.
She grabbed her phone to text him, but before she could, it rang. Jett.
"You little traitor!" she snapped. "You dumped me on the street? Where's the driver? Why'd you make Nolan come? I puked on him?!"
A yawn from the other end. "Chill, Cel. He volunteered. Said he'd handle it…"
She hung up.
Seconds later, a sheepish sorry text arrived. She ignored it. Took a breath. Then tapped Nolan's name and called.
At the indoor basketball court, Nolan glanced at his screen. A-Mai raised an eyebrow. He jogged over and picked up with a soft chuckle. "Coach Celeste? Feeling better?"
She blinked. "You knew it was me?"
"You're our manager," he said like it was obvious.
That made her laugh. She felt foolish for even asking.
"About last night… thank you. And the food."
"Don't thank me. Aunt Qiu couldn't go shopping because she had to find me a clean shirt."
Her fingers tightened around the phone. Then—"About your shirt… I want to return it. Myself."
There was a pause. Then his reply came, low and steady."Okay."
Her heart did a full somersault.
"Can we meet at the food street near school?" she added, trying to sound casual. "My treat."
He laughed, voice like sunshine through glass. "Sure. Just send the address."
She stared at her phone long after the call ended.
He said yes.
Then she shrieked, hugging a pillow, spinning in place like a crazy person, laughing until her eyes watered.
This wasn't a dream.She was going to see Nolan. Alone.
Just then, Aunt Qiu called from the kitchen. "Dinner time, Moon!"
Celeste bounded downstairs. Several international shipping boxes sat by the wall—Jett's annual new year care packages. Inside: ginger candy, dried fish maw, imported vitamins.
She peeled one open, claiming a box of cookies for herself. "These are mine now."
"You always knew what you wanted," Aunt Qiu teased.
Celeste paused. Then quietly said, "Thank you… for everything."
Aunt Qiu patted her hand, eyes soft. "You're the little girl I raised. No need for thanks."
Celeste nodded, holding onto that warmth like a secret.
Later that night, she lay on the couch, hugging her pillow.
Her phone screen still glowed with Nolan's last message:
Nolan: Just send the address. :)
For the longest time, she stared at it, smiling like someone dipped in sunlight.
Because once, that name had only existed in her notebook.And now—he was real.
He was showing up.
And she was opening the door.