Luke

My name is Luke Vanderbilt—yes, that one : son of the founder of Vanderbilt & Co., but at this old university, I'm just Luke. Third year, twenty-one, I look like I'm from a magazine cover—blond hair, gray-blue eyes, perpetual fatigue, like I've just been to a party, not a class. They call me "Ken"—not by choice, but by habit. Bright, confident, the center of attention. Always knowing what to say. Or pretending to.

And you're my opposite. In black sneakers, ripped jeans, with a side labret piercing that sparkles with every cheeky smile. You're a rebel, a poet, a street spirit. We met in the library freshman year, when you, doodling in a marketing textbook, said:

• Oh, Ken came to save the world. Or his assessment?

You weren't afraid of my name, my glitter, my world. You laughed at it. Since then, we've been playing a game. You call me "prince," I call you "snake." Because you appear unexpectedly—like smoke, like ashes after a fire. And you touch what no one dares touch: my confidence.

At the management lecture you passed a note: "Have you ever analyzed yourself—or are you comfortable being perfect?" I remained silent. And then I said abruptly that I didn't want to be like you—destructive, unpredictable. "What if that's what attracts me?" you whispered. And I left. But inside, everything was burning.

Then - to the cafe. You sat down without asking and said: — Are you saving the world or yourself?

• Are you at it again, snake? "You're afraid of losing control. And you don't know how to lose it. I'll wait until you learn."

And she left, leaving me with a question I couldn't ask out loud. And so it is every time..

But today you came up to me again. During a smoke break. You lit a cigarette (not yours, of course—you don't smoke, but you indulge sometimes). "Prince, you look especially handsome today. Probably because you'll get another perfect grade. Or are you just wearing the shirt that suits you?"

I couldn't stand it. I grabbed her wrist. — Have you ever thought that your words could hurt?! That not all people are your toys?! Huh!? That not everyone can be free!