For 30+ Advance/Early chapters :p
atreon.com/ScoldeyJod
The moment hung in the air, fragile and heavy. Peter didn't move his hand. He couldn't. He was pinned by her gaze, a steady, searching look that made him feel completely transparent. The clatter and chatter of "The Daily Grind" seemed to be happening a million miles away.
Slowly, deliberately, Diana turned her hand over on the tabletop, her palm facing up. It wasn't a grab or a gesture, but a simple, quiet offering. An invitation.
His heart felt like it was trying to beat its way out of his ribcage. With a hand that trembled slightly, Peter mirrored the gesture, letting his fingers rest against hers. The contact was electric. It wasn't just skin on skin; it was a current, a low, powerful hum that vibrated up his arm and settled deep in his chest. He felt the calluses on her fingertips—the hands of a warrior, a historian, an enigma. Through his own senses, he felt a strange echo, a sense of immense, dormant power that had nothing to do with her grip strength. It was like feeling the warmth of a bonfire before you see the flames.
"We should probably..." he started, his voice a dry whisper, not entirely sure how the sentence was supposed to end.
"Yes," she agreed softly, her gaze finally breaking away to look at their joined hands. She gently withdrew, and the absence of her touch left his skin feeling cold. "It is late."
The walk back to campus was a study in shared silence. The city was quieter now, the streets mostly empty save for the occasional passing taxi. Their footsteps echoed on the pavement, falling into a natural, easy rhythm. But the space between them was anything but easy. It was alive, humming with the energy from the diner.
Peter shoved his hands deep into his pockets, a useless attempt to hide the way they were still tingling. He was hyper-aware of everything about her. The way her long braid swayed with each step. The soft sound of her breathing in the cool night air. The fact that, even in the dim orange glow of the streetlights, she seemed to radiate a faint warmth. He wanted to fill the silence, to crack a joke, to say something to break the tension. But for the first time in his life, his brain was completely, blessedly quiet. There were no quips, no scientific observations. There was only Diana.
They reached the entrance to their residence hall, a stately old brick building named "Auerbach Hall." Diana stopped at the main door, turning to him.
"This is my building," she said.
Peter gave a short, surprised laugh. "No way. Mine too. Auerbach."
"Fourth floor," she added.
He stared at her. "You're kidding me. Fourth floor. Room 4B."
A slow smile spread across her face. The first he'd seen since the diner. "4J. It seems we are neighbors, Peter."
The coincidence was so statistically improbable it felt like a deliberate act of the universe. They rode the ancient, groaning elevator up together, the small space making the air feel even more charged. When the doors opened onto the fourth floor, the hallway was empty and silent. They walked the short distance to her door.
Standing there, under the flickering fluorescent light, the silence returned, heavier than before.
"Well," Peter said, his voice scratching. "Thanks for... studying. And for the pancake lesson."
"Thank you for the introduction," she replied, her eyes holding his. "It was a good system."
He could see the flecks of gold in the deep blue of her irises. He could smell that faint, rainy scent from the library. He felt an overwhelming urge to lean forward, to close the small distance between them, to see if her lips were as soft as they looked. The thought was so powerful it was a physical ache.
As if she'd heard his unspoken thought, her gaze flickered down to his mouth for a fraction of a second. It was a barely perceptible movement, but in the super-charged silence, it felt like a shout.
"Goodnight, Peter," she said, her voice a soft whisper.
"G'night, Diana," he managed to reply.
She unlocked her door and disappeared inside, the soft click of the lock echoing in the empty hall.
Peter stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door of 4J before finally making his way to 4B. He unlocked his own door and stumbled into his room, dropping his backpack by the door and falling face-first onto his unmade bed.
He let out a long, shaky breath into his pillow. His entire nervous system felt like it was on fire. Attraction wasn't a new concept to him, but this was different. This wasn't a crush. This was a gravitational pull. His senses, which were so good at warning him of punches and bullets, were completely useless here. In fact, they made it worse. They amplified everything—the sound of her voice, the scent of her skin, the impossible, resonant energy he felt when they touched.
He rolled onto his back, staring up at the water-stained ceiling. He was in so, so much trouble.
Inside room 4J, Diana leaned back against her door, her eyes closed. Her heart, a steady and reliable muscle that had never betrayed her in the heat of battle, was beating with an unfamiliar, rapid cadence.
She held up her hand, the one that had touched his, and studied it under the lamplight. She had felt it again. That spark. That strange, wild energy hidden beneath the surface of the anxious, brilliant boy. It resonated with the divine power that flowed in her own veins, not as an equal, but as a fascinating, unexpected harmony.
And the boy himself… he was a puzzle. He spoke of rules and order, yet his mind was a storm of beautiful chaos. He was clumsy and awkward, yet possessed a deep, unwavering kindness. He carried a profound sadness in his eyes that he tried to hide behind quick jokes and a nervous smile.
And when he had looked at her, standing in the hallway… she had felt a warmth spread through her, a feeling as foreign and intoxicating as the diner's bitter coffee. She had wanted him to kiss her. The thought was startling in its clarity. In all her immortal life, desire had been a distant, abstract concept, a theme in the epic poems of her people. To feel it now, so keenly, for a mortal boy...
It was illogical. It was reckless.
And as she prepared for bed, she found she did not care. For the first time since leaving the shores of Themyscira, she felt that her mission here was about to become far more complicated, and infinitely more interesting, than she had ever imagined.