The Mysterious Boy Who Set My Heart on Fire

The edge of the stall digs into her back, her breath growing shallow and uneven. The heat from his body seeps into her, dizzying. Around them, the noise of the exhibition fades into a dull hum. All she hears is her own heartbeat, pounding like a war drum in her ears.



She should push him off. She should speak. But her body feels frozen—like the tension is gripping her just as tightly as he is.



"Let go," she says, though her voice lacks its usual sharpness. It's shaky, small.



Rayyan chuckles, the sound low and dark. "I'm not here to let go, Aina. I'm here to see how you defend what you've built. Not with words… but with conviction."



The pressure of his body sends heat crawling up her neck. Is this a game? A test? Or something else entirely? She clutches the edge of the stall harder, grounding herself. He can't win—not like this.



Rayyan leans in close, his lips brushing just near her ear. "You wanted to talk… we can talk like this."



Aina's breath catches. That voice, that nearness—it coils something tight and burning in her stomach. She hates the way it gets to her, but it does.



Rayyan's eyes lowered, slowly, hesitantly, to her lips.



Soft. Slightly parted. Those pink, cherry-tinted lips that just spit fire at him. They look sweet—too sweet. Like strawberries. Or sin.



How would they taste? That question hits harder than it should.