Chapter Twelve: Silver Threads and Subtle Wars
The morning sun filtered through the kitchen window, spilling across the table where Amaya was carefully adjusting the silver swan locket around her neck. She ran a finger over the pendant one last time, watching it catch the light like a miniature constellation. It was simple, elegant, yet it made her heart flutter in a way nothing else could.
"I look… normal, right?" she asked, half to herself, half to Liam, who was eating toast across the table.
"Normal?" Liam's eyebrow arched so sharply it could have cut glass. "You're glowing like a radioactive faerie. What's that on your neck?"
Amaya flushed. "Nothing! Just a… birthday gift."
"From?" Liam prodded, smirking knowingly, though their parents were out running errands and wouldn't see.
"From… uh, a neighbor," she mumbled, hoping her words sounded casual.
"A neighbor, huh?" Liam said, popping a strawberry into his mouth. "A mysterious, dark, broody neighbor?" He leaned back in his chair, grinning like he'd just solved a case. "Let me guess… your tutor?"
Amaya's jaw dropped. "Liam! Don't you dare—"
"I'm just saying what everyone's thinking," he teased, stuffing another bite in his mouth. "Honestly, you two are like… Romeo and Juliet, except less tragic and more… academically intense."
Amaya groaned, trying to hide the necklace under her sweater. "It's not like that. He's… he's just… my tutor. A friend. Totally platonic!"
"Platonic," Liam echoed with mock solemnity, pointing at her neck like he'd found evidence in a crime scene. "Uh-huh. Sure. Totally platonic." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "You know, if he gave you something shiny, that's basically an official declaration of 'I like you' in teenage girl code. You're doomed, Amaya Snow."
"Liam!" she hissed, shoving him gently, laughing despite herself. "Stop teasing me. You're impossible!"
"You love it," he said smugly, leaning back. "Don't fight it."
Amaya huffed and grabbed her backpack. Today was Saturday, and that meant another study session with Aris. Her stomach was a chaotic storm of excitement and nerves. She'd already practiced ways to subtly show him the necklace without making it obvious. Subtlety, she reminded herself, was key. She wasn't going to collapse into a puddle of blush just yet.
By the time she reached the Rowon house, the faint aroma of old books and lemon polish greeted her, and her heartbeat doubled. Aris was in the living room, seated on the couch with a textbook open on his lap. His posture was meticulous, perfect, almost statuesque. He glanced up when she entered, and for a moment, the air between them seemed to hum.
"Good morning," he said, voice low and clipped.
"Morning," she replied, adjusting the necklace ever so slightly so he might notice. She hoped it looked effortless.
"You look… bright," he said, tilting his head slightly. The single word was neutral, clinical, but she caught a flicker of curiosity in his expression. A flicker she knew meant he'd noticed.
She suppressed a smile. "Thank you. Um… let's start?"
He nodded, pushing the textbook toward her. Today's lesson: the cardiovascular system and the digestion process. Aris had meticulously planned each session to cover every detail.
"Alright," he said, adjusting his glasses. "I want you to draw the heart. Chambers, valves, the entire flow. Let's see if you retained anything from last week."
Amaya picked up her pencil, pretending to concentrate as he hovered over her shoulder. He leaned close to check her work, his hand brushing hers for the briefest moment as he pointed out the pulmonary valve. She felt heat rush to her cheeks, but he didn't comment, didn't look up—he simply continued with the lesson.
"You reversed the aorta and pulmonary artery," he said, tapping her paper with a finger. "Do not ever confuse them again. It's literally the highway of blood. Mistakes here are catastrophic."
"Got it," she muttered, biting back a laugh. She loved the way he pulled her ear lightly when she made a mistake—slightly reprimanding, but not harsh. Her stomach flipped every time.
"And your digestive tract diagram," he continued. "Stop labeling the pancreas as the liver. It's not a liver. Look at it. Feel it. Name it. Remember it."
"Yes, sir," she replied, trying not to glance at his profile. His focus, the way he leaned over the table, the small crease between his brows—it was maddeningly attractive.
"Lipase, try to remember it, Amaya. Lipase," he said, tapping her paper again. "I swear, if you get this wrong, I'll…" He trailed off, pulling her earlobe gently as he mock-threatened her.
Amaya stifled a giggle. "Ow! I… I'll remember it. Don't—don't hurt me!"
"Do not make me pull your nose too," he said, wagging a finger at her. "I'm warning you."
She grinned, leaning slightly closer. "Do it. I dare you."
For a split second, his calm, disciplined demeanor faltered. His hand hovered in mid-air, inches from her nose, then he withdrew, muttering something under his breath.
"You're impossible."
"And you like it," she teased, watching the corner of his mouth twitch.
"I do not," he said, voice clipped, but she caught the barest hint of a smirk.
The study session continued, the usual mix of stern discipline, quiet teasing, and electric tension. Amaya was meticulous, showing off her knowledge, correcting minor mistakes he hadn't expected her to remember. He scolded her less harshly as the hour wore on, though every touch—his hand brushing hers to point something out, the occasional nudge as he leaned over her shoulder—made her pulse race.
By the time Aris's phone buzzed with a reminder, signaling the end of the session, Amaya felt both exhausted and elated. She packed her things slowly, deliberately letting her gaze linger on him.
"You're improving," he said, closing his textbook. "Significantly. I suppose all the extra effort is… paying off."
"I'm motivated," she said, almost too sweetly. "Motivated by my tutor."
He froze, blinking once, then looked away, apparently deciding to ignore the implication. "Motivation is irrelevant," he muttered. "Results matter. Just keep this up."
"Yes, sir," she said with a sly smile, zipping her bag. She carefully let the necklace glint in the afternoon sun that streamed through the window, hoping it caught his attention one last time.
He glanced at it, his expression neutral, but she swore she saw a tiny spark of recognition.
That evening, the Snow family gathered for dinner. Liam, ever observant and mercilessly mischievous, wasted no time.
"So," he said, picking at his pasta, "Amaya has been working with the neighbor again. How's the tutoring going?"
Amaya's cheeks colored immediately, and she shoved a forkful of pasta into her mouth to avoid answering.
"Good," she said around a mouthful. "Very good."
"Very good, huh?" Liam raised a brow. "Does that mean our dear sister has been taking notes… in more ways than one?"
"Liam!" she hissed, glaring across the table.
"Oh, come on," he said, grinning. "You literally came back from the carnival yesterday with that shiny thing on your neck. Don't tell me it's… academic motivation?"
Amaya's jaw dropped, fumbling with the napkin. "It's… a necklace! That's it!"
"Sure, sure," Liam said, leaning back in his chair, giving her a sly wink. "I bet Aris doesn't even realize what kind of power he wields."
Her mother frowned, completely unaware of the undercurrents. "I don't care about power," she said, oblivious. "I just want you to study hard and do well in your exams."
"Of course, Mom," Amaya said, suppressing a laugh.
Liam snorted. "I'll take bets now: how long before our dear tutor realizes he's teaching someone with a crush the size of a small country?"
"Liam!" Amaya shrieked, reaching for his sleeve to hit him playfully, but he dodged. "Stop!"
"Not until someone admits it," Liam said, smirking. "I'll be watching. Trust me."
Amaya groaned, realizing that while her parents saw a strictly academic relationship, her brother had already cracked the code. She rolled her eyes, but inside, her heart was racing.
Later that night, in the quiet of her room, Amaya gently touched the silver swan pendant. The swan seemed to shimmer under the bedside lamp, a quiet reminder of last night's Ferris wheel, the carnival lights, and Aris's presence.
Tomorrow, she thought, she would continue her subtle campaign: diligent studying, teasing smiles, accidental touches, and maybe—just maybe—one day, he wouldn't be able to resist noticing her in every possible way.
After all, she reminded herself, she had a secret weapon: the swan.