6 (promise)

Johan POV

“I’ll cut your dick off if you utter a single word again,” I said flatly, my tone sharp enough to slice through their chatter.

Arthit jerked his head toward me, scandalized. “What the hell, man? I didn’t even say anything. I was just breathing.”

“Yes,” Tonfah chimed in with a smirk, “destroying everyone’s peace with your piranha breath.”

“Hey!” Arthit snapped, glaring daggers at him.

Hill just shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was too tired to mediate. Same old dynamic. Chaos in human form.

“You’re so damn rude,” Arthit grumbled, crossing his arms. “I don’t even know how Nong manages you.”

That earned him a snort from Tonfah. “Nong is pretty, smart, charming, and adorable—and definitely not a dickhead like you.”

“Excuse me—”

Their voices dissolved into familiar bickering, echoing through the garage like an old, worn-out track I’d heard a thousand times. Normally, I’d ignore them, but today… I didn’t have the patience. Not when my mind was elsewhere.

The sharp ding of my phone sliced through the noise. Instinctively, I reached for it.

The moment my eyes landed on the screen, my lips twitched. I felt the hard edges of my expression soften—just a fraction, but enough for Hill to raise a brow in silent curiosity.

(Little brat)Phiii, I loved the boba tea!!!Mwah mwah mwah.

I shook my head, the ghost of a smile tugging at my mouth.

Idiot.

Before I could slip the phone back into my pocket, another notification lit up the screen.

(Little brat)Phi, I’ll go back to my dorm today. Let’s meet directly at the café tomorrow. You promised me.

My brows drew together. I read it again, slow, letting the meaning settle.

Back to his dorm?

My fingers hovered over the keyboard before I typed, each word deliberate.

(Me)You won’t come to the penthouse.

A pause. Then, three dots danced at the bottom of the screen before his reply appeared.

(Little brat)Nope. I’ll text you the address of the café.

My jaw tightened. Something about that ‘nope’ rubbed me the wrong way.

(Me)Ok. I’ll pick you up.

It didn’t take him long.

(Little brat)Nooooooooo. Let’s meet directly at the café.I gotta go now, phi. Phoon choked on his chocolate milk.

I stared at the screen for a long second before exhaling slowly through my nose, a sound too soft to be heard over their arguing. My thumb moved almost lazily as I typed my response.

(Me)Ok. You’ll have to make up for it later.

It took two seconds for his reply to explode across the screen.

(Little brat)Noooooooo. Stay away.

This time, I didn’t hold back the smile that curved across my lips. It was small, but real—warm in a way that felt foreign to me lately.

What are you up to, brat? I thought, tucking the phone back into my pocket. That little head of his… always cooking up trouble. And yet, no matter how far he ran, I always knew exactly where to find him.

A sharp groan shattered the bubble.

“Ewwww.” Arthit was staring at me like I’d just sprouted horns. “God, I hate people in love. It’s disgusting.”

I flicked my gaze toward him lazily. Before I could say a word, Tonfah beat me to it, deadpan.

“I’d hate it too if I was bitch-less like you.”

“Excuse me?!” Arthit sputtered, his face flushing red as Tonfah grinned like the devil himself.

Their voices rose again, clashing like cymbals in an off-key band. Hill muttered something about needing earplugs and went back to organizing tools.

I leaned against the hood of the car, letting their chaos fade into the background, my mind far away from this grease-stained garage.

North.

The image of him flashed uninvited—his lips curving into that stubborn pout, the soft way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. And last night… the way he melted against me like he belonged there.

My fingers twitched against the cold metal of the car.

I let out a low hum, pulling my phone out again just to stare at his last message.

Stay away.

My smile sharpened.

As if.

✿✿✿

North POV

I sat cross-legged on a mountain of clothes, my dorm room looking like a battlefield after a fashion apocalypse. Shirts, jeans, jackets—they were all scattered across the bed like fallen soldiers.

“What the hell am I supposed to wear tomorrow?” I groaned, grabbing a fistful of my own hair in sheer frustration.

Tomorrow wasn’t just another day. Tomorrow was… our day.

After months of being pulled in every possible direction by his insane work schedule, Johan and I were finally getting a day to ourselves. No phone calls interrupting, no business meetings.

Just us.

The thought sent a wave of giddy warmth straight to my chest, and I hated it. Absolutely hated it.

Because I couldn’t let him see that.

Couldn’t let him know how stupidly excited I was—how the very idea of spending hours with him made me feel like a high school kid with his first crush. That would be pathetic, right?

I flopped backward onto my bed with a loud groan, staring at the ceiling like it had the answers.

“This is impossible,” I muttered, rolling over to bury my face in the pillow. My mind, of course, had zero interest in cooperating. It was already running wild, painting scenes that made my cheeks burn.

The café first. The cozy one he liked—soft lights, warm coffee, the kind of quiet where you could hear his voice without the world intruding. Then… the movie. The one I’d been dying to watch with him for weeks, but hadn’t found the right excuse for.

And after that?

My lips pressed into a thin line as my brain betrayed me further, conjuring the final image. A quiet, candlelit dinner by the beach. The sound of waves, the night breeze curling around us, the glow of warm lights flickering against his face—

I made an embarrassing sound somewhere between a whimper and a squeak before rolling across the bed like a man possessed. My blanket tangled around my legs, nearly sending me to the floor.

“Aghhhh!” I buried my face under the pillow this time, the blush on my cheeks refusing to cool. “Get a grip, North! You’re being ridiculous.”

Ridiculous didn’t even begin to cover it.

I dragged myself back up, raking a hand through my hair as I eyed the mess of clothes again. Jeans? Too casual. Black slacks? Too formal. The cream sweater? Cute—but what if I spilled coffee on it?

“Ugh.” I collapsed backward again, staring at the ceiling like maybe it would drop an outfit down from heaven and put me out of my misery.

The truth was… it wasn’t about the clothes. It never was. It was about him.

The way his eyes pinned me in place like nothing else mattered. The way his voice—low, warm, just a little rough—could make my stomach do somersaults even when he wasn’t trying. The way being around him made the rest of the world blur out until there was only him and the stupid, unsteady rhythm of my own heartbeat.

And tomorrow… tomorrow I’d get all of that. For hours. Maybe more if I was lucky.

That thought alone was enough to make my chest tighten, my palms sweat, and my legs kick against the mattress like an idiot.

With a groan, I grabbed my phone, scrolling through my playlist just to distract myself. But even the songs sounded like him, like us, like the thing I was trying desperately not to admit—

That I wanted tomorrow to be perfect.

Not because it was just another date. But because deep down, I wanted something more. Something heavier than coffee dates and kisses.

I exhaled slowly, letting the phone drop onto my chest.

“Okay,” I whispered to no one. “Tomorrow will be perfect. I’ll make it perfect.”