The bell rang sharply, slicing through the low hum of conversations and shuffling chairs.
I rolled my eyes, grabbing my notebook and pencil case with a little too much flourish, trying to appear calm and collected as my adrenaline spiked.
First week, first proper group project. And somehow, of course, I ended up seated right across from him. The cold, silent figure who had haunted the back of the classroom since day one.
I froze for a fraction of a second. Then scowled at myself. Stop it, Zhyra.
He didn't look up from his laptop—or whatever device he was typing on.
I could feel him observing me, though I was pretending to organize my notes like a pro.
Bella, of course, noticed immediately.
"Ohhhhhh," she whispered, elbowing me. "Guess who's in your group."
I shot her a look that could have killed. "Bella, don't start."
She only grinned, clearly enjoying my panic.
I tried to focus on the project instructions, jotting down every word the professor said. Group projects were stressful, yes, but I thrived under stress. Thrived. That was my edge. I'd charm my way through this. I'd manage everyone like a professional. And I'd survive—preferably with Reagan noticing me in exactly the right way.
I shook my head. Don't get ahead of yourself.
The group was officially formed: five students, including me. And him.
He didn't speak when he was introduced. Didn't even glance up. Just nodded slightly, as if his presence alone was acknowledgment enough.
I wanted to roll my eyes. Instead, I smiled politely, because obviously, Zhyra Verano doesn't give up that easily.
"Hi," I said, voice bright and confident. "I'm Zhyra."
No response.
Classic.
Bella muttered under her breath, "You'll get him eventually."
I ignored her. Mostly.
We started discussing project topics. My mind raced, forming ideas, but every time I tried to propose one, he simply shook his head ever so slightly—or typed something brief and precise into his laptop. Short. Cold.
Calculated.
I grit my teeth.
I was not going to let him intimidate me. Not here. Not now. Not ever.
"Maybe we could focus on event planning for a boutique hotel?" I suggested, leaning forward, trying to gauge reactions.
His eyes flicked up at me—just a fraction—but enough.
And then he said‚ "Too generic. Try something with a real challenge."
I blinked. Whoa. He actually spoke. Not much, not charm-laden, just… concise and sharp.
I smirked, tilting my head. "Challenge accepted."
Bella stifled a laugh beside me. I elbowed her. Shh.
He went back to typing, fingers fast, precise. I noticed the subtle curve of his jaw, the way his brow furrowed slightly when concentrating. Dangerous. Annoying. Attractive.
Ugh, focus, Zhyra.
We spent the next hour brainstorming. I threw out ideas. He shot them down. I countered. He dismissed. Back and forth, verbal fencing and subtle mental sparring, until I realized—this was fun.
A little.
A lot.
I didn't want to admit it, but yes, I was intrigued. Infuriated. Exhilarated.
At one point, I made a sarcastic comment about his "perfectly quiet demeanor."
He looked up. Eyes locking with mine. A smirk—barely noticeable—curved his lips.
That smirk? Dangerous. I'm not letting him win.
We continued working, tension simmering beneath polite collaboration. His coldness was a challenge, a puzzle I was dying to
solve.
Then it happened.
A stack of papers slid off the table as Bella bumped into the desk, and I lunged forward to grab them. In the process, I collided—just slightly—with him.
Our hands brushed.
His gaze met mine. Piercing, sharp, unreadable.
I panicked internally, even as I tried to hide it with a smug, "Watch it."
He said nothing. Just shifted, returning the papers, his hand brushing mine again. Slight contact. Electric.
I pulled back, trying to look casual, and knocked my pen off the desk in my flustered state.
"Careful," he said finally, low, smooth, commanding—but not unkind.
My heart? Skipped. Beat. Skipped again.
Bella, of course, whispered‚ "Ohhhh, did you feel that?"
I glared at her. Do you want me to die here?
He returned to his laptop, expression as calm and unreadable as ever. And I sat there, trying not to replay the collision in my mind over and over.
The rest of class was a blur. Every note, every suggestion, every suggestion he shot down, I countered with a mix of irritation and amusement.
By the time the bell rang, signaling freedom, I was… exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, hyper-aware. And yes, I would not admit it, but a little thrilled.
Outside the classroom, Bella grabbed my arm. "So?" she teased. "First real encounter. How does it feel?"
"Don't start," I muttered, trying to sound nonchalant while my thoughts were spinning out of control.
"He's… infuriating," I admitted.
"And?"
"And… I might actually like it."
Bella rolled her eyes. "You're ridiculous. Totally ridiculous."
Ismiled faintly, trying to hide the small heat rising to my cheeks. "Maybe."
We walked across the campus courtyard, chatting about class schedules, upcoming projects, and completely ignoring the fact that he might already be somewhere watching, silently calculating, silent as always, and somehow… always important.
As I lay on my bed that night, scrolling aimlessly through my phone, the image of him sitting at the back of the classroom, calm and unbothered, lingered. That subtle smirk. The brief, electric touches. The words that were just enough to challenge but not invite.
Isighed.
Tomorrow, I would see him again.
And I would be ready.
Because Zhyra Verano never backed down. Not from a stranger. Not from a challenge. And definitely not from someone who made her feel something she wasn't ready to name yet.