Chapter 3: He Tried to Flirt—I Threatened to Kick Him
Dephani's POV
It started in the hallway.
Of course it did.
I was minding my business. Black coffee in hand, hood up, ignoring the squeals echoing behind me.
Then—
"Hey, sweetheart."
I stopped walking.
Not because the voice was special.
Because it was aimed.
At me.
I turned slowly.
He was leaning against the lockers like every romcom cliché shoved into designer shoes. White shirt, black slacks, loose tie hanging like he gave zero effort—but somehow still made it fashion.
He looked exactly like the kind of boy mothers warned you about and girls fell in love with anyway.
Zabini Makorill.
The Devil himself.
And judging by the heat in his eyes, I was next on his hit list.
Too bad I didn't play.
"You dropped this," he said, holding up a folded paper I hadn't even noticed falling from my binder.
He stepped closer. Too close.
I reached out for it.
He didn't let go.
"Gotta say," he drawled, eyes drifting down my face like he was memorizing it, "I was starting to think you were mute."
I tugged the paper free. "And I was starting to hope you were illiterate."
A snort from a girl behind him. He smirked, undeterred.
"I like you."
I gave him a blank stare. "I don't care."
"You sure?" he tilted his head. "Because most girls would kill to get my attention."
"Then let them kill each other," I replied, walking past him.
He turned, matching my steps.
"C'mon, Kim. You ignoring me is only making me want your attention more."
I stopped. Looked him dead in the eye.
Then calmly said—
"If you flirt with me one more time, I will kick you so hard you'll taste your arrogance."
The hallway went silent.
Someone choked. Someone else whispered "She didn't just—"
But Zabini?
He stared at me like I'd handed him a diamond.
And then, he laughed.
A soft, low, dangerous sound.
"God," he said. "You're even better than I imagined."
I rolled my eyes and walked off.
He didn't follow this time. Just stood there, probably thinking up his next terrible plan.
Let him.
I'd dealt with worse than rich boys and pretty eyes.
And if he thought this was a game?
He'd lose.
Because I didn't fall.
I hit back.
[3]
Chapter 4: The Bet
Zabini's POV
"You need to give it up, bro."
Marco leaned back in the cafeteria chair, shoving fries into his mouth like he hadn't just said something blasphemous.
"I'm serious," he said around a mouthful. "This Dephani girl clearly doesn't care who you are."
"She probably doesn't even have Wi-Fi," Soren snorted. "Or TikTok. She's like… vintage mean."
I sipped my coffee, staring out the window as she walked across the quad.
Black hoodie again. Same wired earbuds.
Same complete and utter disinterest in my existence.
"She's not like the others," I murmured.
Soren rolled his eyes. "Yeah, no sh*t. She has standards."
That made me smile.
A challenge.
I lived for it.
"I bet you can't make her fall," Marco said suddenly, the air shifting.
I turned. "What?"
"You heard me." He leaned forward, eyes glinting. "You flirt with everyone. Every girl falls eventually—except her. So I'm saying it. Make Dephani Kim fall for you. And I'll give you my Ducati for a month."
I arched a brow. "Your bike?"
He grinned. "I'm that confident you'll fail."
The others laughed.
"Hell, I'll throw in my tickets for the winter showcase," another friend added. "Front row."
I leaned back, watching her disappear into the library.
She hadn't looked this way once.
--
"I don't need a bet," I said.
"Exactly. So prove it."
I could've said no.
Could've shrugged it off.
But instead, I smiled that slow, dangerous smile that made girls think I was made of temptation.
"Fine," I said, standing. "You're on.
But here's the problem:
It wasn't about the Ducati.
Or the ego.
Not really.
Because the second I said yes, something twisted in my chest.
A whisper I didn't want to hear:
You already want her, don't you?
And worse—
You already know she won't fall. Not for you. Not like the others.
I shook it off and walked out of the cafeteria.
Toward the library.
Toward her.
Game on.
But for the first time in a long time…
I wasn't sure I'd win.
[4]