Ling slid into the seat beside Rhea as if it had always been hers.
The lecture hall settled, pens finally moving, the professor's voice filling the room—but Ling didn't look forward.
Her hand rested casually on the back of Rhea's chair.
Not possessive enough to be obvious.
Just close enough to be felt.
Rhea stiffened for half a second—then forced herself to relax, eyes fixed on the board.
Ling leaned in, voice low, meant only for her.
"Looking good in my clothes."
Rhea's pen paused.
She didn't turn. "Remove your hand."
Ling didn't.
"Or what?" Ling murmured, amused.
Rhea tilted her head just enough to glance at her, eyes sharp. "Or I'll remind you whose idea this was."
Ling smiled—slow, dangerous, pleased. "You didn't refuse."
"I had no choice."
Ling's fingers flexed lightly against the chair back. "You always say that."
The professor cleared his throat loudly.
Ling straightened, withdrawing just an inch—not because she had to, but because she chose to.
Rhea exhaled, annoyed at herself for noticing.
A minute passed.
Then Ling whispered again, softer this time.
"Keep them. They suit you."
Rhea's jaw tightened. "They're temporary."
Ling finally looked forward, expression unreadable. "So is everything."
Rhea wrote faster, pretending her heartbeat hadn't changed.
But beneath the desk, her foot shifted—brushing Ling's boot by accident.
Neither of them moved it away.
Rhea kept writing.
Line after line, neat and controlled—like nothing in the room affected her.
Ling didn't even pretend to listen to the lecture anymore.
Her gaze was fixed.
Right there.
The small mole between Rhea's jaw and throat.
Soft skin. Bare. Framed by Ling's own shirt collar, slightly loose on Rhea.
Ling swallowed.
She leaned closer, slow enough that Rhea didn't notice at first.
"Stop staring," Rhea said without looking up.
Ling didn't answer.
Her fingers lifted—hesitant for the first time in days.
Then she touched it.
Just a brush.
Barely pressure.
Rhea's pen froze.
Her breath hitched before she could stop it.
She turned her head sharply. "What are you doing?"
Ling's eyes darkened, thumb still hovering close, not touching now. "You have a mole here."
"I know."
Ling tilted her head, studying her, voice low and honest. "It distracts me."
Rhea's cheeks warmed despite herself. She pulled back slightly. "You're impossible."
Ling smirked—but there was something softer beneath it. "And you're pretending you didn't feel that."
Rhea gathered her notebook, shifting her chair just an inch away. "Focus on the lecture."
Ling leaned back, hands up in surrender.
But her eyes stayed right there—
Where her fingers had been.
And Rhea?
She wrote faster.
The scrape of chairs signaled the end of the lecture.
Rhea stood too fast.
Her foot caught the edge of Ling's bag.
For a split second she lost balance—and the world tilted.
She fell forward.
Straight onto Ling.
Ling barely had time to react before Rhea's weight pressed her back against the chair, warm breath brushing skin—
Rhea's lips landed against Ling's collarbone.
Not intentional.
But close enough that Ling felt it like one.
Everything stopped.
Rhea froze, eyes wide, breath shallow where her mouth rested against Ling's skin. She could feel Ling's pulse—fast, real—right beneath her lips.
Ling didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Her hands hovered mid-air, unsure whether touching would break something or make it worse.
The room was loud—students leaving, laughter, footsteps—but inside that small space, it was silent.
Too intimate.
Rhea jerked back as if burned, cheeks flushing hard. "I—sorry. I—"
Ling swallowed, voice low and rough. "Careful."
Their eyes met.
For a heartbeat too long.
Rhea grabbed her bag and turned away quickly, muttering something about being late, walking off without looking back.
Ling stayed seated.
Her fingers drifted unconsciously to her collarbone.
To the exact spot.
Her jaw tightened—not sharp, not sculpted, but tense with something unfamiliar.
Because accidents weren't supposed to feel like claims.
And yet—
That one did.
Ling followed anyway.
"Stop," Rhea snapped without turning. "I told you not to follow me."
"I'm not following," Ling said easily, falling into step beside her. "I'm reclaiming my property."
Rhea halted and looked down at herself—Ling's shirt, Ling's trousers, sleeves rolled once.
Her lips pressed together. "If I give these back, what will I wear? I don't plan on walking around naked."
Ling's eyes flicked over her, slow and unapologetic.
"I don't have any problem seeing you naked."
Rhea stopped dead.
She turned, pointed a finger straight at Ling's chest. "I swear, you are—"
"Honest," Ling cut in, unfazed.
Rhea's face heated. "You're impossible. Do you ever think before speaking?"
Ling leaned in just enough to invade space, voice low but teasing. "If I did, I'd miss moments like this."
Rhea scoffed, turning away again and resuming her walk. "You're not getting these clothes back."
Ling laughed softly, unbothered. "Fine. Keep them."
Rhea shot her a look over her shoulder. "That was too easy."
Ling shrugged. "I like seeing my things where they belong."
Rhea stopped, eyes narrowing. "I don't belong to you."
Ling's smile didn't fade—but it changed. Quieter. Sharper.
"I know," she said. "That's why it's interesting."
Rhea looked away first.
And that—
That made Ling smile again.
Ling watched her go for two steps—
then called out, loud enough to carry, calm enough to sound sure.
"Five p.m. My place. Football."
Rhea stopped.
Slowly turned.
One brow lifted, unimpressed. "You're very confident for someone who almost fainted in class."
A few students nearby snorted.
Ling's ears burned.
She crossed her arms to hide it, chin lifting. "Scared?"
Rhea smirked—sharp, deliberate, aimed straight at Ling's composure. "Of you? Please."
She stepped closer just to pass by Ling's shoulder, voice low as a blade.
"I'll come. I want to see what all this flex is worth when it's just us."
Then she walked away again.
Ling stood there.
Absolutely still.
Jian's voice came from behind, amused. "You good, captain?"
Ling exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. "Shut up."
Her face was warm.
Her lips twitched despite herself.
And her heart?
Already counting down to five p.m.