When I finally stir awake, the confusion wraps around me like a thick fog. It takes a moment for my mind to land, to remember where I am. Then, towering nearby, the life-size Harry Styles cardboard cutout triggers the memories, snapping me fully awake.
Sunlight floods my room, warm and insistent, and the faint echo of children's laughter floats up from outside. Judging by the brightness and noise, morning has long since passed. I stretch languidly, a deep yawn escaping before I reach over to grab my phone from the bedside table, still hooked to its charger.
The screen flashes 2:55 PM. Almost mid-afternoon. I groan inwardly at how late I've slept, but instead of jumping up, I retreat back under the covers, cocooning myself from the brightness with a soft, gray blanket draped over my head.
Just as I’m drifting back toward sleep, a chorus of voices downstairs cuts through the quiet. They're far too many to be just Mom, Abuela, or even Sofia—though, to my surprise, Sofia has never been able to string sentences together quite like this. No, these must be guests. Maybe Mia and Grace, my best friends, come to welcome me back.
Curiosity wins out. I hop out of bed and stumble over to my suitcase at the foot of the bed, its contents spilling messily onto the floor. I rummage through the pile and pull out a pair of soft gray sweatpants and an oversized black graphic T-shirt that envelops me like a protective shield.
In record time, I dash to the bathroom, quickly running my skincare routine and brushing my teeth. Returning to my room, I pull on white socks, brush my hair into something resembling order, and then hurry downstairs. Checking the clock, barely ten minutes have slipped by.
At the bottom of the staircase, my suspicions are confirmed. A cascade of blonde hair appears just before a piercing scream shatters the calm. Grace barrels toward me, scooping me up in a fierce hug that lifts me off the floor entirely.
I laugh, wrapping my arms around her tall frame, and when I peek over her shoulder, Mia is stumbling in behind us. She lunges with such enthusiasm that the three of us topple to the floor, and I let out a startled yelp quickly replaced by laughter as their weight pins me down.
"Now that’s the welcome I like to see," a deep voice chuckles behind us. Mia and Grace scramble off me, giggling.
"Shut up, pervert," Mia snaps, fluffing her dark hair back into place.
I turn my head and freeze. That voice—it couldn't belong to the scrawny, awkward ten-year-old boy I remembered. Gone is the lanky kid with scraped knees and unruly limbs. Instead, standing before me is someone entirely different.
Tall, broad-shouldered, with messy dark hair and deep hazel eyes that shine beneath thick brows. His jawline is sharp, almost painfully so, and his grin reveals the dimples I vaguely recall. My heart stammers erratically, breath catches, and a blush blooms across my cheeks and neck. The urge to fan myself rises, utterly unexpected.
I hadn't prepared for this. Not ever. Not the boy who used to tease me incessantly, the source of so much pain and insecurity, to suddenly be this... this stunning.
"Karma, you have seriously failed me," I mutter under my breath.
My reaction? Utterly mortifying. I gape like a fish out of water, eyes wide, struggling to form any coherent sentences. My mouth opens and closes in vain attempts to speak, but my brain is a jumbled mess.
Finally, words tumble out, embarrassing in their bluntness. "You’re supposed to be ugly," I say, wagging a finger at him with false authority.
The second the words leave my mouth, I want to disappear completely. What kind of idiot just says that?
Mia snickers beside me, only to yelp as Grace pokes her sharply in the ribs.
Lucas’s grin widens, amused. "Well, hello to you too," he replies, his eyes twinkling with humor. "Sorry for not being ugly."
Flushed and wordless, I sit there in a heap as the silence stretches. I can’t help but study him—his strong arms crossed over a tight black tee, his confident stance, the raised eyebrow daring me to say more.
My brain pleads for some plan, some clever comeback, but nothing comes. I’m just stuck, caught between irritation and disbelief.
A hushed whisper draws my attention. "Look at that sexual chemistry," one of the moms comments from the doorway, voice teasing.
I glance up to see Linh and Eve, mothers of Mia and Grace, standing with my grandmother, Mom, and Sofia gathered behind. Grace giggles at the joke, nodding in agreement, making my cheeks flare with heat.
Linh winks at Eve, who smirks knowingly before stepping forward and grabbing my wrist. "Come on," Linh urges, pulling me to my feet and into a comforting hug. I lean into her warmth, grateful for the distraction.
Eve presses a gentle kiss to my cheek, then steps back with a mischievous wink. "Well, it looks like you’ve got plenty of catching up to do. We’ll leave you to it!"
They escort my family and Sofia back to the kitchen, and I murmur a quiet thank you to Eve, feeling a little more grounded.
Mia grabs our arms, hauling Grace and me up the stairs toward my bedroom. To my surprise—and slight horror—Lucas follows.
As soon as we enter, I become hyper-aware of the chaos. My bed is a mess, covers twisted and rumpled, and clothes, including bras and underwear, lie scattered across the floor like confetti after a party.
Lucas snorts quietly, amused by my frantic attempt to shove some of the mess under the bed. A playful smirk tugs at his lips as he watches.
I hastily smooth out the blankets, trying to regain some dignity as they explore the room, eyes flicking over the familiar changes.
"Abuela did a great job fixing up your room," Grace whispers appreciatively.
I glance at Lucas, who’s inspecting the framed photos on my bedside table with interest. "Thanks for helping her," I say quietly.
He smiles, those dimples appearing again, and I swear my heart melts a little. "No problem. Dragging Harry Styles into your room was worth it."
We settle into a comfortable silence, the awkwardness slowly melting away into something lighter. My friends chatter about everything and nothing, and I feel, for a moment, like maybe coming home wasn’t such a bad idea after all.