Chapter 33

Chapter 33:

After emerging from the cramped alleyway, Fernanda and Cristian found themselves on a bustling main road.

Just off to the side was a narrow lane, crowded yet navigable, where Cristian’s motorcycle could easily weave through the congestion.

Cristian displayed masterful control over the bike, deftly maneuvering between vehicles with precision. Each near miss felt exhilarating, yet he never once compromised their safety.

This route stood in stark contrast to the one Fernanda had taken earlier, where traffic had trapped her. The main road would have delayed them by at least twenty minutes, but Cristian’s shortcut through the alley had cleverly shaved off crucial time.

As they surged forward, the wind whipped against Fernanda’s face, her long hair streaming behind her like a flag.

She squinted, the air tugging at her skin, and inhaled the crisp, woodsy scent that clung to Cristian’s shirt—a trace of vanilla woven through, softening the earthy tones with a warm sweetness.

Once they cleared the jammed area, Cristian accelerated. In under ten minutes, the grand gates of Esaham University came into view.

It was exam day. Although the number of candidates wasn’t overwhelming, the event had attracted a crowd of media, drawn to the potential stories behind the ambitious applicants, many of whom already held reputations in their fields.

Without hesitation, Cristian rode through the gates, exuding calm and control.

Campus security held the reporters at bay, forcing them to watch as the motorcycle disappeared into the serene campus—a stark contrast to the chaos just outside.

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Cristian finally slowed in front of a building with distinctive architectural flair. Turning to Fernanda, he said,

“Your exam room is right inside. Last one on the west end, third floor.”

He had even located the exact room for her, saving her precious time and unnecessary stress.

With a light jump from the back seat, Fernanda removed her helmet and handed it back to him with grace.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

Cristian offered a relaxed smile.

“No worries. Better hurry—it’s about to begin.”

Fernanda nodded in acknowledgment and ascended the front steps.

Before stepping inside, she cast a quick glance over her shoulder. Cristian was still there, leaning casually against his motorcycle, one foot grounded.

His white riding gear highlighted his athletic frame, sharply contrasting with the sleek, dark metal of the bike. He exuded an undeniably magnetic presence.

Several students passing by couldn’t help but turn their heads. Even with his face hidden beneath a helmet, his posture and aura left no doubt—he was exceptionally attractive.

Fernanda reached the exam room just in time. Nearly every seat was filled. Around twenty candidates sat inside, their ages spanning from barely ten to well into their sixties.

The setup was familiar—reminiscent of past school exams—but the air felt weightier, charged with a quiet seriousness that emphasized the significance of the moment.

The exam lasted a grueling three hours. By the time Fernanda emerged, the clock had struck noon.

As she was gathering her belongings, a short-haired girl approached her, extending a pen with a bright, thankful smile.

“Thanks for lending me this,” she said. “I would’ve been in trouble without it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Fernanda replied, accepting the pen with a nod and tucking it into her bag.

Halfway through the test, the girl had raised her hand in panic—her pen had stopped working. Fernanda, seated just ahead of her, had wordlessly handed back a spare.

While most candidates arrived overly prepared, armed with multiple pens and stationery, this girl had come with just one. Her admission ticket, pulled from the depths of her jeans pocket, was so crumpled it resembled a discarded receipt.

“Let me thank you properly with a meal,” the girl offered kindly. “I’m Wendy Olson, by the way.”

Wendy exuded a confident, relaxed aura. Dressed in jeans and a simple T-shirt, her striking features were enhanced by her neatly cropped hair.

She spoke with quick, assertive ease, her words laced with effortless charm.

“There’s no need,” Fernanda replied with a warm smile. “That’s very sweet of you, but I’ve got something I need to take care of today. If we both get accepted as students, I’m sure we’ll have plenty of chances to eat together later.”

Wendy nodded in agreement. “Fair enough.”

Together, they exited the exam building. As they descended the stairs, Fernanda paused, surprised.

She hadn’t expected Cristian to still be there.

Leaning casually against his motorcycle, he flicked a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers. The moment he saw Fernanda, he raised a hand in an easy, laid-back wave.

Spotting him, Wendy turned to Fernanda with a playful smirk.

“Is that guy your boyfriend?”

“No,” Fernanda answered quickly. “He’s just someone I know.”

“I see,” Wendy replied. “Well, your friend’s quite the looker. Seems like attractive people tend to find each other.”

Approaching casually, Wendy nodded toward Cristian.

“Hey, handsome, mind handing me a cigarette?”

Cristian grinned and flicked his cigarette pack toward her with practiced ease.

Catching it effortlessly, Wendy pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a swift snap of her lighter. She inhaled deeply, exhaling a perfect smoke ring as her eyes closed in satisfaction.

“Finally. I’ve been craving one since this morning.”

Fernanda hadn’t pegged Wendy as the smoking type.

Wendy tossed the pack back to Cristian with a lazy flick and gave Fernanda a casual wave.

“Thanks for everything. I’m off.”

Cristian extended a helmet toward Fernanda.

“Here. Wear this. I’ll take you back.”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” she replied.

“The entrance is swarming with reporters. You really want to deal with that crowd?” Cristian asked, his tone calm yet pointed.

Reflecting for a moment, Fernanda recalled the crowd of reporters that had swarmed earlier, their numbers likely even larger now.

She gave a slight nod, accepting the helmet and fastening it securely.

Just as Cristian was about to hop onto the motorcycle, Fernanda gently caught hold of his sleeve.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Let me drive,” Fernanda declared as she smoothly swung her leg over the motorcycle and eased into the driver’s seat.

Her tall, slender figure moved with a blend of confidence and elegance.

Cristian paused, momentarily taken aback.

Fernanda glanced back over her shoulder.

“What’s the hold-up? Don’t you trust my driving?”

Snuffing out his cigarette, Cristian flicked the butt neatly into the trash can.

“Of course not. It’s just that if you’re driving, I’ll have to cling to you a bit. I was worried that might bother you.”

Fernanda kept her gaze ahead.

“It doesn’t bother me.”

Cristian climbed onto the back of the motorcycle, catching a subtle whiff of her shampoo—a crisp, refreshing fragrance that lingered in the air.

Rather than wrapping his arms around her waist, he lightly rested his hands on her backpack for balance.

The university’s main gate was now teeming with an even larger crowd than that morning.

The engine’s thunderous roar jolted the crowd, prompting them to part and form a narrow path.

With sharp precision, Fernanda maneuvered the motorcycle through the opening, slipping past the reporters with ease.

As they made their way out, Fernanda caught a snippet of a voice from the crowd.

“Has anyone seen Fernanda Morgan? Almost everyone’s out already, but she’s nowhere to be found!”

A quiet, amused scoff escaped Fernanda’s lips. Apparently, someone had been waiting for her.

With a subtle lean forward, Cristian brought his lips near her ear and murmured,

“I saved you from quite a mess today. So, how do you intend to repay me?”

Fernanda, playful yet intrigued, responded,

“Alright, what do you have in mind?”

“There’s a big motorcycle competition next week,” Cristian said, his tone casual but his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Why don’t you join me? What do you think?”

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