Adrian's POV
She looked right at me today.
Four seconds.
Her eyes caught mine across the courtyard, and I swear—for a second—she knew.
She felt it.
This pull between us wasn't one-sided. I saw the confusion in her eyes. The fight between fear and curiosity. That tiny flicker of something she didn't want to admit. That… heat.
I watched her fingers tighten around her book. The way she exhaled like she'd been holding her breath since the moment our eyes met.
It was beautiful.
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I didn't go into her room last night.
I could have. I was close. But she'd locked the window this time. Smart girl.
I stood there anyway.
Not touching. Just watching.
Breathing in the life she left behind on glass.
I'd give her time.
She wasn't ready to be mine—not yet.
But she would be.
I was getting careless, though. The sketch I left behind… I saw the smoke from her sink. Saw the ashes on her fingertips this morning.
She was scared now.
Good.
Fear sharpens awareness. And awareness? That's how she'll start to see me.
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I left her a note today.
Slipped it into the back of her sketchbook during her critique class when she left it unattended. Just one line:
"The night doesn't protect you from me. It protects me from what I'd do to have you."
Her fingers will tremble when she reads it.
But her heart?
It'll race for me.
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