The day had started out weirdly enough, but Mille was just going to roll with it. After all, it wasn't every day that a conceited jerk burst into her room at five in the morning to basically apologize to her. She'd take it. If she could be less lonely, she'd take it.

So she pulled on a pair of jeans and a knitted sweater, pulled her hair back into a messy bun, and headed out before Karen could get even more aggressive.

"I swear to God," she hissed as Millie headed for the door. "You're the most boring and troublesome roommate I've ever had."

"Aren't those two notions a bit of a contradiction, though?" she asked, not faltering.

"Leave it be, Karen," Diana, one of her other roommates said. "You're just jealous that she has hot guys breaking into her room."

"Why though, when she's so boring?" Karen was saying as Millie shut the door behind her.

This wasn't news. Everyone thought she was boring, Davyn included. She'd never done anything to prove them wrong because she didn't see the point. She had a goal that would be hindered by hanging out and going to parties. School wasn't easy and she'd rather sleep at night than catch up on homework.

As she reached the first floor, she was a little shocked to see Keith, their receptionist for the evening, staring mournfully at the door which seemed to have been broken down.

"What happened?" she asked the moment she reached him.

He scratched his head with the screwdriver in his hand and gave her a dirty look. "It's fine, but could you tell your boyfriend to chill the fuck out?"

"He's not my boyfriend." And it was the only thing she had to say to that because any other word was still caught in the cogs inside her head. She couldn't believe Davyn had actually kicked the door open.

Keith mumbled another few curse words under his breath, but dropped it and focused on the door, so Millie made her way outside.

Davyn stood at the bottom of the steps, hands behind his back, staring out into the park. His shoulders were squared and tense and she noticed he was only wearing a t-shirt and sweats.

"Aren't you cold?"

He glanced over his shoulder. There was still that haze in his eyes which she recognized as exhaustion. "Not if we start moving."

She nodded. Even if it was the beginning of April, it was still cold in the mornings and the sweater wasn't doing a good job of keeping her warm. So she reached him and glanced to her right. A very faint pink line spoke of the sunrise to come.

"Want to go to the football field?"

He didn't answer but headed that way, so she followed. The silence stretched between them and it pierced her how awkward she felt. While they'd been in her room it only felt natural to go outside, to ask him to come with her. But what were they even doing? It was much too early for awkward silence. Anything was better than walking with no purpose.

"I never understood why they call it football," she said as soon as they reached the edge of the field. "Just because they kick the ball once? We should just join the rest of the world and call soccer football."

A small smile lifted the corners of Davyn's lips. "I see," he said, his tone amused.

"Don't you agree?" she prodded as they stepped on the running track and began their tour of the field.

"You want my stance on football versus soccer?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

She shrugged. At least it was conversation and she was trying. He seemed to have relaxed after his outburst and was as cold as ever. They continued walking in silence.

"You know," he suddenly said, "the next World Cup is set to be in the US. We could go if you're a fan."

His words were so surprising, she stumbled over her own feet. She caught herself fairly quickly, but the smirk on his face made it certain that he'd noticed.

"The World Cup?"

"Yes. Soccer World Cup," he clarified. "In 1994."

"How do you even know that?"

He shrugged. "My father watched the 1990 Cup. I'm not sure how he got into it, but by the time the final games were up, he was very invested. I watched a few games with him. I have no idea why, since it's basically people kicking a ball around and trying to kick it into a giant net, but it grabbed me, too, so we watched the final together." A sad smile took over his features. "We each had different favorites. He wanted Argentina to win and I was supporting Germany. He said he couldn't because of their Nazi past. I just found it so cool that they were riding the wind of change at the moment. The Berlin Wall had fallen and it was just a matter of time before the reunification. It did happen later that year."

Millie glanced up at him as they walked. He was looking ahead, but there was a certain glow in his demeanor as, for the first time, it felt like he spoke of something he was passionate about.

"And who won?"

"Germany did. But it was a tight one. There was no goal throughout the game, so the only goal came from a penalty shot."

Millie pondered on this, realizing the passion came from the historical aspects rather than the game itself. "Do you like history?"

He turned to her, an eyebrow quirked in confusion. "We were discussing soccer. How'd you gather that?"

"You seemed a lot more interested in the fall of the Berlin Wall and the reunification of Germany than the game."

He fell silent and looked away again. "You know, this was the first rematch in World Cup history. Also the first time the reigning champion reached the final and lost, and the first time a South American team was beaten in a final by a European team."

"Wow, you're full of soccer fun facts."

"I thought you'd appreciate them more given your European roots."

"I like my European roots when it comes to art rather than sports."

He gave her a once-over. "Speaking of which. No overalls? I'm disappointed."

She crossed her arms over her chest, even if her sweater was bulky, feeling naked all of a sudden. "This was easier to put on, and I didn't want to keep you waiting."

"Also, no French braids? How will I ever believe you're French now?"

"Va en enfer!"

He laughed, as if he could tell she'd just told him to go to hell. It was a rich, pleasant sound which filled her to the core, promising more laughter in the future. When he stopped, all she could think was how she wanted to hear it again.

"I thought you didn't like my braids anyway."

"I don't. You look a lot nicer with that scruffy bun."

"Oh, wow, no mercy."

"You don't need my mercy, darling. You need my support. And you have it."

The words warmed her up to the core. Which in turn got her wondering how he wasn't freezing in that t-shirt. It wasn't even one with longer sleeves, which meant his toned arms were out for show. And she had to admit he looked impressive with the broad shoulders, well-defined biceps and slim waist. It was obvious he was an athlete, though he seemed to be a bit more than that.

"Are you checking me out?"

She jumped and looked away. "No. I was just thinking that you're probably cold."

"I told you I was fine while we walked." Which they did for another few moments in silence. "You didn't answer my question," he suddenly said.

"What question?"

"About the Soccer World Cup."

"You're asking me if I want to go and watch soccer games with you two years from now?"

"Why do you find that weird? Do you think the world is going to end? We're still far off from Y2K."

"Of course not, it's just--" Was he asking her out on a date? The thought made the back of her neck hot. "I'm not sure where we'll even be two years from now."

"Wouldn't you like to think you'll be at Julliard?"

The simple name of the place drew all the heat out of her. If only it were that easy.

"Where would you be?" she asked instead.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think it matters at the moment."

She didn't answer and just kept walking. He seemed oddly thoughtful this morning and a lot less caustic. Maybe it was whatever had pushed him to come to her room to make sure she was okay. Maybe it was the exhaustion which was certain. Surprisingly enough, she liked him like this, mysterious and whimsical.

"Are you always so evasive?"

"Only when I have no idea what I'm doing, which has been happening a lot lately."

"We really need to work on you."

He glanced down at her, an eyebrow quirked in amusement. "Work on me?"

"What, you think you're perfect?"

"You're so cute when you're trying to be sassy."

She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. It was impressive how easily he could disarm her, shut her down. It was that more than anything that made her feel safe with him. Because she was sure he could shut anyone down easily, including Nicholas Harkin. She'd seen them at it in the hallways, and Davyn had been impressive. Maybe it was this inner strength, this capacity to face everything with a smirk and a sharp comeback that drew her to him.

Yes, he was a jerk, even now when he kept teasing her. She was aware of that, and yet, it didn't feel very important anymore. Not when he was a promise of safety. A sanctuary.

"How can you be like this?" she asked,

The smirk on his face only became more patronizing. "You'll have to be a bit more specific."

"This confident."

"Ah." He looked forward again, joining his hands behind his head. It only showed off his toned arms even more. "Well, it's easy to be confident when you think highly of yourself."

Wasn't that the truth? "And you think highly of yourself?"

"Isn't that obvious?" There was absolutely no apology in his voice, no sense of embarrassment or hesitation.

"Well, yes, but... how?"

He huffed, stretching out. "Let's see. I'm being the biggest asshole to you, and yet you're still checking me out, which must mean that I'm good looking enough for you to overlook my shitty attitude. I can make basic logical connections easily, I can read people. What more could I want?"

He had a point. And it was fascinating how he could make that point without sounding conceited or embarrassed. She wished she could be that honest about herself.

"I'm going to take it that you're very unhappy with yourself," he added.

The affirmation made her jump before sending her down a rabbit hole of thoughts. "Well, not exactly. I don't focus that much on myself."

"Okay, wow. So selfless."

His tone was sarcastic, so she analyzed this, too. It wasn't necessarily true. "I tend to focus on my goals rather than myself."

"That's just sad. You're a lot more interesting than your goals."

The affirmation brought unwarranted heat to her cheeks. She had no idea what to say to that, so she said nothing.

"Seriously, have you ever thought about working on yourself instead of just... working?"

No, she hadn't. "Are you working on yourself right now?" she retaliated.

"No, I'm working on you."

She had no idea why she hadn't seen that answer coming. "What makes you think I need that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were perfect." This time, it didn't sound mean, just teasing, and there was a smile on his face.

She had to fight hard not to grin herself. "I'm fairly perfect, yes."

"So nothing you want to improve, nothing you want to learn?" There was honest curiosity in his voice and Millie was a bit unnerved by this new side of him.

No more scorn or snark, just a relaxed demeanor and honesty. In that moment, she really felt more interesting than her goals. It was a very odd feeling, one she enjoyed.

"I don't know."

"You never had something you wanted to do?" he asked in disbelief.

"I want to get into Julliard."

"Yes, yes." He waved his hand impatiently. "But before that."

She hesitated for a moment, her stomach twisting with nerves. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"For instance, after you cut my wire, I realized I wanted to learn how to fix stuff like that. I'm obviously not very good at it, but it's something I can research and improve on. I've been doing it for a while now."

"Ah." Where would she even begin? There was so much she didn't know. "I'm not exactly good at a lot of stuff so there are way too many possibilities."

"But you knew how to fix that wire."

"I saw my dad doing it once. We couldn't really afford to replace electronics when they broke down and we had this toaster that had this huge plug and the wire going into it alwys tore because of the weight. He had to fix it many times and one time, he showed me how."

"Huh." He tapped his fingers to his chin and stopped walking. They were in the middle of the track, halfway around the field. "I guess I really am a spoiled little rich kid."

"You're rich?" The question came out before she could stop it.

"Don't sound too excited."

He had a point and she should be ashamed of herself. "Yeah, I know how it is. None of it is actually yours, it belongs to your parents."

He glanced at her, his eyelids half-dropped in a somewhat bored expression. It made him look even hotter for some reason. "No. It belongs to me. I inherited a fifth of my father's fortune after he died and it's quite a lot."

"Wait, are you eighteen already?"

"I'm emancipated."

"What?" The information kept coming much faster than she could make sense of it.

"My brother's an asshole so I really didn't want him taking custody of me, especially when I was so close to freedom. But we're veering off track. My money is not important. New things. For you."

It didn't matter to him because he had it. But he did have a point. His financial status didn't concern her or whatever this was between them. It was about something completely different. About figuring herself out and finding something new.

He was a new thing for her. An interesting, mysterious new thing which refused to make sense. She hummed, but it was more to buy time while she took in his words. He'd mentioned his brother before and a part of her wondered if he was abusive. But then again, Davyn was really tall and well built, so she doubted many people could overpower him unless he let them. They started walking again, heading the other way, back towards the school.

"Can you drive?" he asked, obviously fed up wight her silence.

"Why, are you offering to teach me?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"Why?" She didn't mind the shift in his behavior at all, but it was still confusing. Then again, a mere week ago she wanted the ground to swallow him, and now she was walking with him at the break of dawn. After he'd broken into her room to make sure she was alright.

"Because maybe while trying to fix you I can figure out how to fix myself."

"Who said I needed fixing?"

"You did when you got drunk and high on a roof with an asshole you couldn't stand."

He made such a valid point. And to be fair, she wanted to fix him too for mostly the same reasons. Because he'd ended up on that roof with a boring girl he couldn't stand. Why keep arguing about it if it kept them together?

"I can drive, though." She pondered a little on what she required help with. "I'm pretty bad at sports."

"Yeah, I saw that. What do you even do for PE? Take up something easy like swimming?"

Swimming was easy? "I can't swim. I stumble by mostly."

He stopped in the middle of the track. "You can't swim?"

She stopped too, a few feet away. "I just said I couldn't. Why so surprised?"

"That's like a basic life skill."

She scoffed. "Yeah, as if I'm about to fall into a lake and die."

"You could fall into the school pool and die. You don't need a lake."

The thought sent a shudder through her, but she pulled herself together. "Nonesense."

"Yes, it's nonsense that you don't know how to swim. Meet me at the pool tonight."

"What?"

"I'm going to teach you how to swim."

She blinked, unable to compute what he was saying. Behind him, the sun rose, seeing golden highlights through his black hair. It made him look surreal, like an angel descending from heaven. A twisted, evil angel. It was hard to look away.

"I mean it," he said. "I'll be waiting for you at nine. This is not something you can go through life not knowing."

She just nodded, too enthralled by the game of light and shadows on his skin. It was obvious that she hadn't had enough sleep. She was too out of it.

Davyn gave her a curt nod. "Good." Then his dark blue eyes moved to the school. "I should get home and get dressed for school. Take care out there today."

"I promise I won't drown in the school pool until tonight."

He grinned. "Atta girl. I guess there's hope for you yet."

"Hope for me?"

"Not to be so boring."

But again, it didn't sound like an insult anymore.

"Maybe there's hope for you, too, then. Not to be such a jerk."

"I highly doubt that, darling. I'll see you tonight."

As he headed off towards the parking lot, Millie remained on the track, watching him depart. Something has shifted, even if she couldn't say what. For some reason, this felt like a beginning.

The start of something good.

♣️♣️♣️

Aren't they adorable? And Millie really does seem to be fascinated by him. Maybe she's right, maybe this really is the beginning of something good.

You also get some nice historical facts about soccer in there. And a bit of a history lesson about what the early 1990s were like. All in good fun.

We're very close to the end of part I so stick around.

Thank you for all your support and I really hope you're enjoying the story!