The campus was buzzing in a way that felt almost cinematic that morning. Students rushed between buildings, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of laughter, complaints, and the occasional shout that pierced the usual hum.
I adjusted my bag, walking at a leisurely pace despite the crowd, because honestly, rushing was for amateurs. And Zhyra Verano? I never rushed.
I spotted Bella halfway across the courtyard, waving frantically. She was already late—of course.
"Morning, zhy!" she yelled as she skidded to a stop beside me. "You're not already in trouble for being too early, are you?"
I smirked, shaking my head. "No. But I am early enough to claim the best spot in class. Again."
Bella rolled her eyes. "You and your precious seating. One day, it'll betray you."
"Never," I replied, puffing my chest. "The perfect spot sees everything, notices everything, and ensures no one dares pull anything over me."
She laughed, clearly entertained by my dramatics. I had to admit, sometimes my hyper-snobby attitude amused even me.
We entered the classroom, and my eyes instinctively scanned the room. I could feel it before I even saw him. That presence. Silent. Observant. Irritatingly perfect in its composed coldness.
Reagan Serrano.
Back row, corner seat, untouched by the chaos around him.
The sunlight hitting the edge of his hair gave him a halo of mystery that no one else deserved.
I rolled my eyes subtly. Stop staring, Zhyra.
But I didn't look away. Not yet.
Bella nudged me. "Are you going to… or just keep staring?"
"I'm observing, Bella. There's a difference," I whispered, though I felt my cheeks heat up slightly.
Class began, and the professor's voice cut through the room. Notes were handed out, and I quickly arranged mine with precise attention. My focus was on absorbing everything… and keeping subtle tabs on him at the same time.
It was during a group activity that fate decided to intervene.
I was teamed up with three others, including—predictably—him.
He didn't speak initially. Didn't even acknowledge me as we passed out papers. Just sat there, calm, composed, typing rapidly on his laptop like nothing mattered. I, of course, refused to be intimidated.
"Okay," I said brightly, "so for our project, I was thinking—"
"Not that," he interrupted
I blinked. Not that? Did he just…?
"Yes, that is too simplistic. Something with real impact," he added, calm and precise, eyes flicking briefly to mine.
My heartbeat quickened—not from fear, but from that infuriating thrill of being challenged.
"Fine," I said, trying not to let my voice tremble with irritation or excitement.
"Challenge accepted."
Bella, naturally, elbowed me under the table. "You're totally obsessed."
"Not obsessed," I muttered. "Observant. Strategically aware."
We started throwing ideas back and forth.
Every suggestion I made, he subtly critiqued. Every time I countered, he dismissed it with calm precision. The mental sparring was exhausting but… exhilarating.
I leaned closer, lowering my voice. "You know, if you keep being this infuriating, I might start thinking you enjoy this."
He glanced up for just a second. Eyes sharp. Calculated. And then a faint smirk—barely noticeable—curved his lips.
I felt something stir in my chest. Something like… interest. Irritating. Infuriating.
Dangerous.
I forced myself to return to my notes, pretending I wasn't aware of his gaze.
Later, as we were arranging the presentation layout, our hands brushed. Again. Slight contact, electric, fleeting. My heart skipped. I yanked my hand back—too quickly, probably—but I had to act nonchalant.
"Careful," he said finally, low, smooth, deliberate—but not unkind.
I cleared my throat. "Noted."
Bella whispered, "He said careful… like he owns you."
I gave her a death glare. Focus, Zhyra. Not daydreaming.
After class, the group decided to meet at the library to finalize some points. I lagged a bit behind, making sure to take the route that allowed me to accidentally bump into him.
Perfect. Strategy.
As I walked, I accidentally—or purposefully, depending on how you saw it—dropped my notebook. He picked it up before I even reached him.
"Here," he said, holding it out with that calm, precise demeanor that drove me insane.
"Thanks," I replied, trying to sound casual, though my fingers brushed his for just a moment longer than necessary. Sparks.
Definitely sparks.
He didn't smile. Didn't speak further. Just walked off, leaving me with racing thoughts and a lingering flush on my cheeks.
In the library, I set up near Bella. I tried to focus on the work, but my attention wandered, inevitably, toward him again. He sat across the room, silent, working, but somehow, I felt his presence.
Every so often, our eyes met. Quick, deliberate glances that made my chest tighten. And every time, I had to remind myself: Don't fall. Don't get too curious. Don't—
Yet curiosity had already won.
By the time the sun dipped behind the tall buildings, casting golden streaks through the library windows, I realized something terrifying.
I wanted him to notice me.
Not that I'd ever admit it.
As Bella packed her things, she nudged me again. "Careful… he's dangerous."
I laughed softly. "You mean… attractive and infuriating?"
Bella rolled her eyes. "Exactly. You're doomed."
I sighed, gathering my things. Tomorrow, same class. Same group. Same cold, infuriating presence.
And I had a feeling the sparks weren't going to stop there.
Because sometimes, a single brush of hands, a single smirk, a single calculated word was enough to ignite something that couldn't be ignored.
And I was already craving it.