Chapter 13- The Complexity of Unspoken Feelings.

A Tempest Below the Surface

The world briefly dwindled into the gap between them. Nora's heart hammered so violently she worried it may reverberate along the hallway. A swirl of amazement, disbelief, and intense ecstasy shot through her veins—she was in the arms of Francis Walter. Her hero. As she studied his features closely, her breath caught. He was even more breathtaking in person. His eyes were a deep shade of hazel that seemed to contain hidden secrets, and the harsh lines of his face softened in the warm corridor light. His was unwavering, fixated entirely on her.

Francis, however, found himself enthralled. He had witnessed innumerable stunning faces—women who dedicated hours to self-improvement and who could enthrall an audience the instant they entered. However, this girl was unique. She wasn't the type of attractive person who needed attention. Rather, it was the type that subtly and unobtrusively approached you until you were completely enthralled one day.

There was a quiet fire in her almond-shaped eyes, which were framed by thick lashes. Soft, rosy, and slightly parted in surprise, her lips seemed to tremble, which was a sign of her feelings. Her skin, flushed pink from the moment, made her look ethereal.

And that hair, dark and long, flowed down her back with ease like ink on silk. There had been a thousand ladies Francis had met, but none had ever stayed with him. She tugged at him like no one else had. And the most peculiar aspect? He had seen her before.

The first time was when she timidly gave him a picture that was rolled up as a present. He hadn't given it much attention because his mind was busy. However, there had been a subtle yet enduring quality to her presence that had ingrained itself into his consciousness. At the time, he hadn't given it any thought.

However, now...

Because Francis didn't think coincidences happened, he hadn't been upset when he saw her glancing at him earlier; instead, he had just waited, and now here she was. Fate had brought them together once more.

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A Time That Must Not Be Here Francis finally spoke in a smooth, deep voice after what seemed like an eternity that had been frozen in time. "Are you okay?" Nora felt her cheeks flame up again from the warmth in his voice. Her mouth opened, but initially, she made no sound.

Afterward— "Y-Yes, I'm okay," she stumbled, taking a fast step back and lowering her head. "Thank you for saving me." A tiny, amused smile played at Francis's lips as he shook his head. "No, it was my fault for startling you." "No, it's my fault for… um… peeping," she admitted shyly, rubbing her arm. His gaze flickered with intrigue. 

His eyes flitted with curiosity. "Peeping?" She felt like giving herself a slap. Why did I actually say that aloud? With haste, she cleared her throat and stepped back again. "I-I should get going now." However, she was uncomfortably aware of the whispers around them as she turned. Oh no, the silent murmurs, the interested looks. She felt heat creep up her neck.

To conceal her agitated countenance, she messed her hair while feigning to straighten it. And then— "Can I know your name?" She stopped. She had a mental shortcircuit. Had she dreamed that? She turned around slowly, her eyes wild. A soft, mysterious expression was on Francis Walter's face as he watched her.

"And…" After a brief pause, he said, "Your number?" in a voice barely audible above a whisper. A sudden gasp for air. Nora's blinks were quick. Her body was immobile.

Did she have a dream? Was this thing for real? She slapped her forehead softly before she could stop herself because she was so shocked. "Awaken, Nora. Quit daydreaming. She froze again at a deep laugh. She raised her head— Amusement danced in Francis's eyes as he tapped her arm. He whispered, "It's not a dream," with a hint of laughter in his voice. God, please.

She had a whole brain dysfunction. When she eventually managed to say, "I-I'm Nora Smith," her hands shaking, she snatched his unlocked phone and cautiously entered her number. Her heart pounded. Did this actually occur?

She had an epiphany. C: May I snap a photo with him? Before she could stop herself, the words escaped her lips. Francis laughed once more, obviously amused by her anxiety. "Of course." She fumbled with her phone, taking a few selfies, but none of them looked good. She desired a quality picture, a memory she could treasure.

She turned to the closest person, determined. "Excuse me, could you take a picture of us?" Her voice was still unsteady as she requested nicely.

Then— Her whole body tensed. The air became heavy. Because no stranger was standing in front of her. It was Dave. And he looked at her as if he were about to destroy the earth.

In his eyes, the storm Though unreadable, Dave's face was strangely more expressive than she had ever seen it. His typically disinterested look was now a piercing sword, slashing through the gap between them.

His jaw was clenched so firmly she could see the muscles flex beneath his skin. He seemed to be forcing himself to remain motionless, as his whole body was rigid. His eyes, however. His eyes held something dark. Something raw. Something terrifyingly possessive.

Nora's throat tightened with breath. She had already seen Dave irritated. She had observed him agitated, aloof, and chilly. She had never seen him angry, though. But here he was, in front of her, his face contorted with rage, jealousy, or something else.

She believed she saw something sinister flash through his eyes as his eyes shifted between her and Francis. A problem. A caution. A storm brewing beneath an otherwise controlled surface.

Standing next to her, Francis noticed the tension right away. His posture changed ever so little, as though he were getting ready for something, and his own countenance became unreadable. The two men locked gaze. The air was heavy. Inhumane.

Then—

Dave's mouth twisted into a slow, ominous grin. It sent a chill down Nora's back. This look was familiar to her. Dave was at his most dangerous right now. Additionally, she had never in her life— She had no idea what he would do next.