😎
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The library was supposed to be neutral ground.
Quiet. Orderly. Civilized.
It took exactly twelve minutes for that illusion to shatter.
Kiara had barely settled into her seat when Eleanor arrived—heels sharp against the marble floor, posture perfect, expression unreadable. She placed her laptop down with deliberate precision, as if the entire building were watching.
"Before we start," Eleanor said softly, "I want to be clear."
Kiara didn't look up. "About?"
"This partnership." Eleanor folded her hands. "I don't tolerate distractions."
Something in Kiara snapped—not loudly, not dramatically, but decisively.
"I don't tolerate disrespect," she replied. "So we're even."
The silence that followed was… loud.
A few students glanced up from their books.
Eleanor's smile tightened. "You missed the last prep meeting."
"I was working."
"You're always working."
Kiara finally met her eyes. "Some of us don't have trust funds."
The words landed harder than Kiara expected.
Eleanor's chair scraped sharply as she stood. "Lower your voice."
"No," Kiara said calmly. "You don't get to shame me quietly anymore."
Whispers spread like spilled ink.
Eleanor leaned forward, voice sharp and cold. "You think passion excuses incompetence?"
Kiara stood too. "You think privilege equals superiority?"
That did it.
"Enough."
The voice came from behind them.
The professor.
And behind him—students, staff, curiosity.
"This," he said coolly, "is a library. If you can't collaborate, you'll collaborate under supervision."
Eleanor stiffened. "Sir—"
"You'll join K-RAP," he continued. "Cross-department project. Public presentation. No substitutions."
A murmur rippled through the room.
K-RAP.
The most brutal group on campus. High visibility. Zero mercy.
Eleanor's face drained of color.
Kiara's heart pounded.
"You wanted reliability," the professor said to Eleanor. "Now you'll learn flexibility."
He turned to Kiara. "And you'll learn boundaries."
The verdict was final.
They were trapped together.
When the library finally exhaled, Kiara grabbed her bag and left before Eleanor could say another word.
She didn't realize her hands were shaking until she reached the courtyard.
"Kiara."
Shane's voice.
She turned—and there he was, jacket undone, concern etched openly across his face.
"I heard," he said quietly.
"Of course you did," she muttered.
He stepped closer. "You okay?"
She nodded. Then shook her head. Then laughed weakly. "I don't know."
The campus buzzed around them, but the space between them felt suspended—thin, electric.
"You stood your ground," Shane said. "That matters."
"So does survival," she replied. "And now I'm tied to Eleanor in front of the whole university."
"She underestimated you," he said.
"So did your mother."
The words slipped out before Kiara could stop them.
Shane flinched—not in denial, but in recognition.
"She called me last night," he admitted. "Told me to step back."
"And?"
He met her gaze steadily. "I didn't."
Something warm and dangerous unfurled in Kiara's chest.
"You're making things harder," she said.
"I know."
"Why?"
"Because walking away would be easier," he said. "And I don't want easy anymore."
The air shifted.
They were standing too close now.
Her breath caught.
His hand lifted—stopped inches from her cheek.
The world narrowed to that space.
That almost.
A laugh broke the moment.
Lisa's voice. "Wow. If I didn't know better, I'd say we interrupted something."
Kiara stepped back instantly.
Shane dropped his hand.
Lucas raised a brow. "Near miss?"
"Shut up," Kiara said, mortified.
Later that night, exhaustion pressed heavy on her bones.
She stayed at the café past closing, lights dimmed, paperwork spread across the counter.
The door creaked open.
Shane.
"I thought you went home."
"I tried," he said. "Didn't work."
He sat across from her.
Close enough to feel.
Not close enough to touch.
"You scare people," he said softly.
She snorted. "Good."
"No," he corrected. "You make them confront themselves."
She looked at him then—really looked.
"And you?" she asked.
"What do I make you do?"
He hesitated.
Then: "Want things I can't control."
Her pulse spiked.
They were standing again without realizing it.
One step.
Another.
So close she could feel his warmth.
His breath.
"Kiara," he murmured, voice low, restrained. "If I cross this line…"
"Then what?" she whispered.
His forehead rested against hers.
Nothing else.
Just that.
"Then there's no going back," he said.
Her heart screamed yes.
Her mind said not yet.
She stepped away first.
"I need to finish this," she said shakily.
He nodded, eyes dark. "I'll wait."
When he left, the door closing softly behind him, Kiara pressed her hand to her chest.
Her phone buzzed.
Eleanor Wright:
We start K-RAP tomorrow. Don't be late.
Kiara stared at the message.
At the stack of books.
At the empty doorway where Shane had stood.
The near-miss lingered.
Not fading.
Promising.
And Kiara knew—without doubt—
The next time they almost crossed the line…
Someone was going to get burned.
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