The chemistry project was, in a word, hell.
Even with two full weeks to complete it, the rubric alone felt like it was written in another language—dense, unforgiving, packed with expectations that assumed students actually understood what equilibrium constants were supposed to mean, not just memorize.
Kara and Adam sat side by side at his immaculate desk, papers spread neatly between them. The surface was polished, organized to a fault—color-coded pens lined up perfectly, notebooks stacked with their corners aligned. It made Kara acutely aware of her own ripped backpack resting at her feet, sagging like it didn't belong in the room.
She traced a finger along the rubric as she explained an idea, her voice steady despite the growing frustration in her chest.
"If we focus on reaction rates instead of thermodynamics," she said quietly, "we can run fewer trials but still meet the data requirement. We just have to be precise with variables."
Adam nodded—but not because he was listening.
Her voice blurred into background noise as his attention drifted completely to her face.
The way her deep black eyes seemed endless, like staring into a sky without stars but full of gravity. The way her long lashes brushed her under-eyes with every blink. The faint crease between her brows when she concentrated. Even the small, almost invisible scar near her jawline that looked like it had a story she'd never tell.
"Kara."
She didn't respond.
"Kara."
She stopped mid-sentence and looked at him.
"…Why were you looking at it so longingly?"
She raised a brow, confused, then turned her body slightly toward him.
"What do you mean?" she asked flatly.
Adam leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "I mean earlier. When I walked in—you were staring at that picture frame. Like it was… important."
Kara froze.
"You saw that," she said quietly.
"Yup." He smiled, light and teasing. "Why were you looking at it like it was some lost artifact? Did you think I was cute and wanted to steal it because of my overwhelming handsomeness?"
He laughed.
Kara didn't.
Her gaze dropped to the desk.
"I've never stolen anything in my life," she said seriously.
The air shifted.
Adam's smile softened, dimmed just a little, though it didn't disappear completely.
"Hey—sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean it like that. I was joking." He tilted his head, trying again. "Do I look like some zoo animal to you? Is that why you were staring so hard?"
That did it.
Kara let out a small, sheepish breath, the tension cracking just enough for a quiet laugh to escape her.
"No," she said. "You're fine."
Adam's eyes widened theatrically before a smug grin took over.
"I'm fine?" he repeated. "Well, thank you, caramia."
He laughed, leaning back in his chair, hair still damp from the shower he'd taken after his game.
Kara stared at him, unimpressed.
"Hah. Hah," she said robotically. "You must think that was so funny."
Adam laughed harder.
"Get it?" he said. "'Cause your name's Kara and cara mia sounds like—"
"I get it," she cut in sharply. "Let's just get back to work, okay?"
She turned away, focusing on the paper again—but her ears betrayed her, warming just enough to sell her out.
Caramia. The words echoed quietly in her head.
No one had ever called her that before.
He sounds like Gomez from the Adam's Family. Kara thought as she kept reliving his lips speaking those words.
Time passed.
The sky outside the window deepened into gold and amber, the sun sinking low and spilling warm light across the desk. Shadows stretched lazily across the walls as Kara and Adam worked through equations, scribbling notes, occasionally bumping knees under the desk without comment.
Then—
They both reached for the pencil at the same time.
Their fingers touched.
Kara recoiled instantly.
Not flushed. Not embarrassed.
Pale.
Her breath hitched sharply as her chest tightened, a sudden memory crashing into her like ice water. Her vision blurred at the edges as she pulled her hands back, curling them into fists.
"Kara," Adam said, alarmed. "Hey—are you okay?"
She stared at the desk, breathing too fast, too shallow.
"I—" She swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I just… don't do well with touching."
Her voice was small. Honest.
Adam didn't speak right away.
When he did, his voice was softer than she'd ever heard it.
"That's okay."
He leaned back, giving her space, his gaze drifting to the window.
"It's getting dark anyway," he added after a moment. "We can pick this up tomorrow."
Kara nodded, grateful.
She packed her things quickly, shoving papers back into her bag with practiced efficiency. Adam watched her quietly.
"Hey," he said. "Tomorrow—meet me at the front of the school after classes. No practice, no game. We can walk together."
She hesitated.
"I—I don't know. I can ju—"
"Please?" he interrupted.
His brown eyes softened, wide and hopeful in a way that made resistance exhausting.
A bead of sweat slid down her spine.
"…Fine," she muttered. "I'll go now."
She turned toward the door—
"Wait," Adam called. "Do you need a ride home?"
She paused.
"My parents are out of town," he added casually. "I've been driving my dad's car without permission. Alfred's sworn to secrecy—bribery works wonders."
"I'm fine," Kara said without turning around.
Adam frowned. "You're walking home in the dark. In that jacket. In winter." He paused for a moment with his brow raised as he sat on the floor looking at her by the doorway. "Do your parents not care?"
She stopped.
"I don't have parents," she said quietly.
Then she left.
She walked through the mansion alone, saying goodbye to Alfred, who smiled at her warmly like she mattered.
Outside, the wind slapped her face hard enough to steal her breath.
She immediately regretted refusing the ride—but she squared her shoulders and walked anyway, letting the cold bite her skin as punishment for needing anything.
-
"What a lovely girl Kara is," Alfred said later, pouring tea for Adam at the massive dining table, food untouched and excessive.
Adam stared out the window.
"Yeah," he murmured. His chin resting on the palm of his veiny hand as the candlelight shines on parts of his face, leaving other parts in the shadows like secrets.