19. Back and Forth

Tall, sharp-cheeked, unapologetically stunning Elias, with that crown-prince-of-darkness aura and the eyes that saw straight through flesh to bone.

I hated him. I hated how good he looked in black. I hated how much space he took up. I hated that my heart hadn't gotten the memo and was now doing some kind of traitorous tap dance in my chest.

Ugh!!!

"What do you want?" I asked, snorting before I could help myself.

He didn't flinch. Instead, he pulled out the chair across from me and sat down like he owned the table, the library, the entire damned academy.

"I see your attitude hasn't improved," Elias muttered.

"And yours still hasn't learned boundaries." I shot back.

He looked up then, eyes dark and dangerous. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table like he was settling into a duel. "Do you always talk like that to people who sit near you?"

"Just the ones I regret kissing."

That hit.

His jaw clenched. Just a twitch, but enough to know the blow landed.

"You kissed me."

"Oh, is that what helps you sleep at night?" I said, voice low and shaking. "Rewriting history?"

He scoffed, bitter and sharp. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're arrogant."

We were too loud. A first-year at the next shelf shot us a look and hissed, "Shhh."

Elias shot her a glare that made her whimper and scurry off. 

"You're enjoying this," I hissed, stepping closer. "Aren't you? The attention. The whispers. Everyone watching."

His smile curled, slow and deliberate, like it was meant to provoke. "Unlike you, I am used to having the spotlight, so it means nothing to me. But if you think I wouldn't do it again—"

"I don't think about it," I snapped.

Lie. My chest was still a traitor. It was still thumping like a trapped drum and my eyes dropped to his lips briefly, my throat drying.

"You're lying." His voice dropped so low it was almost a purr. A rumble, really. The kind that settled under your skin and stayed there. "Your heart's beating so loud I can hear it."

Oh. So that was what we were doing now.

"Then plug your ears, goat-boy."

His grin was instantaneous. Sharp. Dangerous. Grinned. Bastard.

I hated that I felt heat crawling up my neck. Hated that I wanted to wipe that smirk off his stupidly symmetrical face. Hated that he still smelled like cedarwood and slow-burning trouble. Like mystery and danger and, unfortunately, my type.

He leaned in, arms folded like he was lounging in his throne and not a chair at a library table. "I could have your entire life ruined, you know," he said, voice all silk and daggers. As if he were commenting on the weather. Or what wine paired best with my humiliation.

I blinked. Slowly.

Then I leaned forward too, mirroring him, my own face a storm cloud. "And I could file a restraining order. Try me."

For just a flicker, just half a breath, his expression faltered. I saw it. And I seized it like a lifeline.

"Why are you even here?" My voice was lower now, rougher around the edges. The kind of voice you use when your body's confused and your brain's screaming abort mission." First Rowan blocks my path like he's in some cheesy romance movie, now you? What, did all three of you decide to stalk me in turns?"

His jaw ticked. Ah. That hit something. Good.

"You think I'm here because I planned to be?" he shot back.

"Oh, you just magically materialized in the library like a brooding fairy godmother?"

"I was already here."

"Yeah? In this exact corner? At this exact table? Where I just so happen to be?"

He exhaled. It wasn't quite a sigh. More like a release of whatever was clenching inside him. His shoulders shifted, but his eyes, those traitorous, hazel, cut-through-your-soul eyes, didn't leave mine.

"You're annoying," he muttered.

"Thank you. You're persistent. Like a fungus."

A sound escaped him, half laugh, half groan. "I still can't believe the mouth you've got on you."

"You've got nerve showing up here like this."

He didn't respond right away. Just tilted his head. His gaze flicked downward for half a second, and I hated that I wondered if he was looking at my lips. Because I was looking at his.

I blinked again, furious with myself. Furious with him. 

"I don't need this," I muttered, starting to rise.

But he was faster. His hand caught my wrist. Not hard, not painful. Just firm. Steady.

"Why are you pretending nothing happened?"

I stopped. My entire body stilled.

"Because nothing did," I said.

"You kissed me."

"You kissed me," I corrected.

"Details, it was a dare," he said.

I glared at him. "And so?"

"You didn't exactly pull away."

"I was stunned. Like anyone would be if a glorified house pet suddenly made a move."

His eyes narrowed. "Don't call me that."

"Why? Does it hurt your feelings?"

"Do you ever stop talking?"

"Do you ever start making sense?"

He leaned in again, too close. My heart betrayed me with another stutter. He smelled stupidly good. Like danger dipped in dusk.

His eyes darkened. "You act like you're irresistible," he said, voice low and sharp. "Like kissing you was some kind of privilege."

I stilled.

He didn't.

"If I could take it back, I would. Hell, I'd rather have kissed a mutt in the stables than deal with your mouth again. At least animals don't stink of desperation and cheap perfume."

Silence. Pure. Total. Ugly.

The words hit like a slap before mine ever landed.

And then it did.

A sharp crack echoed through the library as my palm connected with his cheek, hard enough to turn his face slightly.

He blinked, once.

I was already standing, breathing hard, my hand still trembling from the impact. "Don't you ever speak to me like that again," I said, my voice shaking, not from fear, but fury.

He didn't speak. Just sat there, cheek reddening, jaw tight, those cut-glass eyes watching me with a heat that wasn't entirely anger.

I turned and walked away without another word, pulse thrumming in my ears.