"Mom!" I screamed out from my dream, jerking awake. Cold sweat soaked my sheets, clinging to my skin.
The same vision chased me again, relentless as always.
5:00 a.m.
Typical.
Dragging myself out of bed, I forced my eyes onto my laptop.
The project was due soon, and aside from filing work and internship applications, I had a single class at eleven.
I tried focusing, but my mind kept twisting elsewhere, stomach knotted with anticipation and that familiar undercurrent of fear.
His face drifted unbidden to the forefront, and I hated how it made everything else irrelevant.
I shut my notebook sharply, the motion harsh and unnecessary. I'd study at the library instead.
By the time I left, the day had already slipped past me.
My hair smelled of roses and sugar, freshly washed, sliding softly over my shoulders.
I hurried along the path, skirt creeping up my tights as my watch ticked past 11:10.
"Sir?" I knocked lightly. He glanced up and nodded, indifferent.
I slid into the nearest seat, avoiding the predictable stares for latecomers trudging up the stairs.
I grabbed my notes and highlighters, scribbling furiously to catch up.
Mr. Walker taught Ethics and Criminal Justice; ironic considering the way he carried himself, like someone who could bend the rules without consequence.
A smile twitched across my lips, betraying my wandering thoughts.
"Mrs. Hayes, was anything I said funny?"
Hands shot up around the room, papers rustling, pencils tapping. Some students whispered nervously, as if the question itself could make the wrong answer fatal.
"Ayra?"
I lifted my head, aware of the soft weight of eyes lingering on me and yes, one in particular, just a little too steady, just a little too deliberate.
"No, it shouldn't."
Mr. Walker inclined his head. "Why?"
The click of my highlighter sounded louder than it should have, bouncing against my thoughts. My fingers gripped the pen a little tighter.
"Justice is about process," I said steadily, meeting his gaze. "A good outcome doesn't justify illegal means. The law must apply to everyone even those enforcing it."
A soft murmur rippled through the classroom, half agreement, half disbelief.
Then came the voice behind me. I didn't need to turn, I knew.
"And what if following procedure costs innocent lives?"
My chest tightened in a way that had nothing to do with fear. Zyren's tone was casual, almost teasing, but deliberate, like he was testing me.
I kept my gaze forward, fingernails grazing the edge of my notebook. "Then we fix the system," I said quietly, but firmly. "Not break it further."
There was a brief pause, and I could feel him leaning just slightly toward me, the faint scent of his cologne.
My senses heightening once again.
Mr. Walker nodded, turning back to the board as if nothing had happened.
Around me, classmates were trying desperately to appear attentive, heads bobbing, pens scribbling.
I could feel Zyren's eyes lingering, unrelenting, waiting for a reaction. My pulse kicked in, and I cursed myself for noticing.
I tried to focus on my notes, but every line of text blurred as I became acutely aware of him shifting in his seat, subtle movements brushing against the air that separated us.
The lecture continued, words from Mr. Walker flowing over us, but my attention was partially elsewhere.
My chest tightened, and I told myself it was just nerves, that I couldn't let him distract me.
Yet every time I lifted my pen, my eyes flicked toward him.
Every casual gesture , the subtle tilt of his head set off a quiet, dangerous flutter in my stomach.
I hated it. I hated him. And yet, I couldn't look away.
By the time class ended, I felt drained in a way no lecture should ever manage.
My notes were incomplete, but my mind had been occupied with far more than law and ethics.
Zyren remained where he was, packing slowly, smirking faintly as if he knew exactly how unsettled I was.
The class ended, and as usual, I lingered to finish notes and greet a few friends before heading to the library.
The building buzzed with students, strategically placed at the intersection of faculties — a strange choice, but convenient.
I climbed the stairs to my corner, the quietest spot I could find, and spread my books and laptop across the table.
A chocolate bar I'd been saving melted slowly on my tongue, lulling me just enough to focus.
Then the scent hit me.
Metallic. Thick. Musk.
My chest tightened. I prayed it wasn't him. I didn't know who it was, only that someone had invaded the calm of my day.
Two exhausting hours later, I had worked through Victimology, Toxicology, and Forensic Science.
Notes sprawled everywhere, glasses perched somewhere on top of a textbook.
Finals prep was behind schedule, but at least I'd started earlier this year. Progress, small and satisfying.
My loose bun unraveled as I packed folders, papers, and pens into my tote. My stomach growled, craving everything at once.
Then a white plastic bag dropped onto the table.
Zyren.
"What do you want?" I asked, voice low and weary.
"Open it."
I hesitated, then did. The smell of a thick, juicy hamburger and fries filled the air.
My hands shook slightly, hunger finally breaking through exhaustion. The first bite forced my mouth wide, and for a moment, nothing else mattered.
"Are you stalking me?" I asked around another bite.
"Do you want the truth?"
"No. I have more important things to do."
I rolled my eyes. His smug attitude almost made me lose my appetite.
"Well… it is finals month. I'm sure you've studied everything."
"I don't study," I said, blunt. Of course he knew everything off the top of his head; detective lineage ran deep in that family.
I closed the box, slipped on my jacket, and turned toward the door.
"Thank you. I'll be going."
"Wait." His voice was soft, almost hesitant. My body turned instinctively.
"I can drive you home. It's safer."
I laughed, sharp and incredulous. "What's next? You'll sleep over to make sure I'm safe too?"
He chuckled, and somehow I found myself laughing too. We collapsed onto the leather couch, careful not to draw too many glances.
Time slowed between us, subtle, charged, a tension neither of us had to announce.
Then I felt his hand, brushing mine. Heat shot up my arm. I pulled back abruptly, though the contact had left a strange warmth lingering.
"You can take me home. That's it," I said, eyes fixed on the decorated wall behind him.
He nodded. A faint pause.
"Forget anything that happened here tonight," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to overstep."
And for a moment, I wondered if it had even been me controlling my pulse… or him.