Chapter 2 The Boy Who Would Change Everything

Anastasia didn't know what hit her. One second she was rushing down the hallway, late for class, flipping through her notes, and the next-BAM-she smacked into something solid. Like a goddamn brick wall. Only, walls didn't have arms that caught you before you could eat the floor.

Strong hands gripped her waist, steadying her. When she looked up, her breath hitched. Standing before her was a broad-shouldered, annoyingly gorgeous guy with tousled blonde hair and striking blue eyes that gleamed with amusement. The way strands of his messy middle-parted hair fell over his face made him look like he had just strolled out of a teen drama. His chiseled jawline and the smirk curling on his lips screamed trouble.

"Whoa, what's with the staring?" he teased, his voice dripping with mischief. "Did my dazzling looks just give you a heart attack, or are you trying to figure out how to handle all this perfection?"

Oh. Hell. No.

Anastasia rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw her own brain. "Nah, I'm just wondering if that ego of yours comes with an off switch."

He gasped dramatically. "You wound me, mystery girl."

"Move," she deadpanned, trying to sidestep him.

Instead of letting her go, he grinned wider. "You got a name, or should I just keep calling you 'Trouble'?"

"I have a name. I just don't give it to random dudes with hero complexes."

"Hero complex?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "I think you mean 'fate.' You were about to faceplant, and I saved you."

"Oh please," she scoffed, pushing past him. "If fate looked like a cocky football player with too much time on his hands, I'd rather take my chances with gravity."

But before she could get too far, his voice rang out again. "Oi!"

She turned, thinking she might've dropped something. Instead, she found him on one knee, hands clasped over his heart. And then-

"Don't break my heart, my achy, breaky heart..."

Her face burned as people started laughing. Without another word, she bolted.

The next morning, she was ambushed near her locker.

"Hello, my beautiful lady," he greeted smoothly, leaning way too close for comfort.

Anastasia groaned, resisting the urge to smack him. "First of all, I am NOT your lady. Second, don't you have anyone else to annoy today?"

"You enjoy it," he continued, flashing a cocky grin. "Who doesn't love a handsome football player singing to them?"

"Oh my god," she muttered, shoving past him. "Go away."

"You still haven't told me your name!" he called after her.

She smirked over her shoulder. "Nice try, but I'm not that easy."

His eyes gleamed. "Challenge accepted."

In the following weeks, Bastian Webber was EVERYWHERE. He did ridiculous stunts on the football field, flipped off lunch tables, even made a damn school-wide announcement over the intercom looking for the "mystery girl" who stole his heart. Each time, detention. Each time, zero regrets.

"She is really making me work for this-so worth it," he muttered, lazily doodling on his detention slip.

Then, finally-

"Anastasia Goodwin!"

She flinched so hard she nearly dropped her books. Slowly, she turned, dreading what she would find. And of course, it was him. Smirking like he just won the lottery.

"Do you have ANY idea how much effort I had to put in just to get your name? I don't even have to work this hard to get a date!" he groaned.

She crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Oh, I'm sure. Since some girls practically worship the ground you walk on."

He placed a hand over his heart. "Tragic, isn't it?" Then, leaning in with a devilish grin, he whispered, "Saw you at the office earlier. Should really learn to be more careful, Nasa."

"Ah, come on, Nasa, don't be like that," he drawled.

She glared. "Are you stalking me?"

"Gosh darn it! I wouldn't have to if you'd stop running away," he said dramatically, rolling his eyes.

She scoffed, but her lips twitched. Wait-Nasa? What kind of name is that! "Nasa?" she echoed, raising a brow.

"Yeah. Since I spent so much time trying to get your name, I decided it's too long. You're now Nasa. Like the cool space thing."

"Absolutely n-"

"Have lunch with me," he interrupted, smirking.

"Not a chance."

"If you don't, I'll sing again... on the intercom."

"NO!" she screeched, slapping a hand over her mouth as heads turned their way.

"Great," he grinned. "See you at lunch, Nasa."

One lunch became two. Two became three. Eventually, it became routine. He called her Nasa. She called him Bass, just to annoy him. Playful arguments turned into deeper conversations. He became her best friend. Her safe space.

And then, life happened.

Her mother started to get very sick. At first, it was little things. Fatigue. Headaches. But soon, hospital visits became routine, and words like "aggressive treatment" and "late-stage" became part of their daily conversations.

Anastasia tried to be strong. She smiled, she reassured her brothers, she pretended like everything would be okay. But at night, when the house was silent, she would crawl onto the roof of the Drake Hotel-their secret place-and let herself break.

Bastian always found her there.

"I've got you, Nasa," he whispered one night, wrapping his arms around her as she sobbed into his chest. "You don't have to do this alone."

Anastasia withdrew. Bastian refused to let her. He walked her home every day. Held her hand when she was too drained to speak. When she tried to push him away, he stayed.

The day her mother died, she called him.

"Bass..." her voice cracked.

"Nasa? What's wrong?" His sleepy voice immediately sharpened.

"Mom, she... she-"

"Are you home?" He was already up, yanking on his jacket.

"Yes," she sniffled.

"Don't move. I'm coming."

He flew down the stairs, startling his mom.

"What on earth-"

"I think Ana's mom just died. I need to be there." His voice was firm, no room for argument.

His mother's face softened. "Oh, sweetheart. Go. And take care of her."

By the time he got to her house, Anastasia was curled up on the couch, shaking. The moment she saw him, she launched into his arms, sobbing into his chest.

Bastian held her tight, rocking her slightly. "I got you, Nasa. I got you."

And for the first time that night, she believed everything might be okay.