DARK CHEMISTRY
The night air was still warm on Lizzie's lips when Daniel pulled back, eyes unreadable—dark, conflicted, wanting.
Then he straightened, slid his fingers through hers, and said quietly:
"Come with me."
Lizzie blinked.
"W-Where?"
He didn't answer with words.
He just gently tugged her hand, guiding her downstairs, out of the club, to the parking lot where his black car waited—sleek, expensive, intimidating.
Her heart hammered.
"Daniel… your house? Is that… okay?"
He opened the passenger door and looked at her with an intensity that made her stomach flip.
"I'm not taking you somewhere unsafe," he said, tone softer than before. "I just… don't want tonight to end yet."
Lizzie swallowed hard and nodded.
The drive was quiet, city lights passing like streaks. Daniel kept one hand on the steering wheel… and the other resting over Lizzie's knee, thumb brushing back and forth slowly, reassuringly, almost possessively.
Every time he glanced at her, she felt like melting into the seat.
After twenty minutes, the car turned into a long private driveway lined with dark trees.
Lizzie's breath caught.
At the end of the drive stood a mansion.
Tall gates, stone walls, warm lights glowing from the windows.
Massive. Elegant. Cold and beautiful.
Just like him.
Lizzie stared.
"Daniel… you live here?"
He smirked slightly, killing the engine.
"Does it scare you?"
"No…" she whispered. "It's just… big."
He stepped out, rounded the car, and opened her door himself.
His hand slipped to the small of her back as he guided her up the steps.
The door opened with a soft click.
Inside: marble floors, tall ceilings, quiet hallways, warm dim lights.
A different world.
Lizzie stood frozen at the entrance.
Daniel watched her reaction… then took a step closer behind her.
"Lizzie," he murmured near her ear, "don't look so nervous."
"I-I'm not nervous," she lied instantly.
He chuckled under his breath, low, warm.
"You're shaking."
She looked down—her fingers were trembling.
Daniel gently turned her to face him, tilting her chin up with a single finger.
"Do you think I brought you here to hurt you?" he asked softly.
Lizzie shook her head.
"Good."
His thumb brushed her cheek.
"I brought you here because I don't want to share you with the rest of the world tonight."
Her face heated instantly.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Relax. I won't do anything you're not ready for."
Her heart fluttered wildly.
Daniel guided her deeper into the mansion—through a long hallway until they reached a huge living room with a fireplace humming softly.
He sat her down on the couch.
"Wait here. I'll get something."
Lizzie watched him disappear around a corner.
A minute later, he returned holding—
Hot chocolate.
Two mugs.
Steam curled up gently.
He placed one in her hands.
"You didn't eat much tonight," he said quietly. "Drink."
Lizzie stared at the warm cup, then at him.
"You… made this?"
He sat beside her, close enough their knees brushed.
"Is that surprising?"
"Yes," she admitted honestly.
Daniel's lips quirked into a small, rare smile.
"Get used to it."
The fireplace crackled.
The warm drink in her hands.
Daniel beside her, his presence calm and protective.
He watched her sip, eyes softening.
And then—without warning—he brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear and whispered:
"Lizzie… is it okay if I sit closer?"
Her breath hitched.
"You already are…"
He smirked.
"Then I'll get closer than that."
He shifted, closing the distance, his thigh pressing against hers, his hand finding hers and threading their fingers together.
"Tell me when to stop," he murmured.
Lizzie whispered, barely audible:
"Don't."
His eyes darkened again.
Daniel didn't say another word.
One moment Lizzie was sitting on the couch, breath trembling under the fireplace glow—
and the next, his hands slipped under her knees and back, lifting her effortlessly into his arms.
Lizzie gasped, clutching his shoulders.
"D-Daniel—"
His lips cut off her words.
A soft, lingering kiss… then deeper… then slower again, as if he wanted to taste her breath, her heartbeat, her fear, her trust—all at once.
He walked, still kissing her, through the dim hallways.
Every time he pulled away for a second, it was only to breathe in her scent before kissing her again.
Gentle.
Possessive.
Unhurried.
By the time he pushed open the bedroom door with his shoulder, Lizzie was dizzy.
He laid her down on the bed as though she were made of something delicate and precious.
His forehead rested against hers.
His breath uneven.
His thumb brushed her cheek.
"You can stop me anytime," he murmured.
Lizzie shook her head, whispering, "I don't want to."
His eyes softened—dangerously warm.
He kissed her again, slower this time, as if memorizing her.
His hand brushed her jaw, her hair, her back—every touch gentle, careful, asking permission through silence.
A soft, warm moment.
No rush.
No pressure.
Just closeness, lips brushing, hearts beating too fast, fingers intertwined.
A night that wasn't loud or wild—
just two people learning each other's breath.
Nothing more than that.
Nothing too far.
Just enough to make her fall asleep against his chest, his arm wrapped around her protectively.
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NEXT DAY — SCHOOL, CHEMISTRY LAB
──────────────
Lizzie sat at her lab station, notebook open, pen in hand…
and absolutely nothing entering her brain.
The periodic table looked like a strange alien language.
Molecular structures were dancing like cartoons.
The beaker in front of her felt like a dream object.
Oh god… last night…
Her cheeks flamed just thinking about it.
Daniel entered the lab, coat draped over one arm, hair a little messy in the way only she would recognize. He placed his notebooks on the desk… and his eyes flicked to her for exactly one second too long.
Lizzie jolted, nearly dropping her pen.
Don't look at him. Don't look at him. Don't—
She looked.
Immediately.
He was already watching her.
Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard her ears rang.
Moana nudged her.
"Lizzie, what's wrong with you? You look like you didn't sleep at all."
Lizzie choked.
"I—I slept! I mean, no! I mean—I'm fine!"
Moana squinted at her.
"You're red."
"I—I'm just warm—"
At the front, Daniel cleared his throat.
"Eyes up here, class."
Lizzie's head snapped straight like a soldier.
But every time he explained a concept, his gaze flicked to her—subtle, quick, but intentional.
And every time he did, Lizzie forgot everything.
Her hand shook.
She wrote oxygen = fish in her notes.
Her beaker nearly slipped from her fingers.
This is impossible. I can't focus. Why is he looking at me like that? Why did last night even happen? What if I'm dreaming? What if—
"Miss Kim."
Her heart dropped.
Daniel was suddenly standing right next to her desk.
He leaned down slightly, too close—
close enough she caught the faint scent of his cologne.
Lizzie froze.
"Y-yes, s—"
She stopped herself.
He'd told her not to call him that when alone…
but they weren't alone.
She corrected herself quietly:
"…Sir?"
His lips twitched faintly—like he remembered that rule too.
He tapped her open notebook with a finger.
"Your notes are… interesting today."
Lizzie looked down.
"OXYGEN = FISH"
She died inside.
Moana burst out laughing.
Daniel straightened, voice perfectly calm for everyone else:
"See me after class."
Lizzie's stomach dropped.
Moana whispered, "What did you do?!"
Lizzie whispered back, "Breathe oxygen… and became fish…"