Sara was moving through the corridor like she did every day, a little faster than usual, head buried in her thoughts, eyes half on the floor. The sound hit her before she saw the steam: a sharp gasp, then a wet, hungry moan. Three syllables and her feet stopped of their own accord.
It was him.
She paused at the doorway and froze. The bathroom was fogged, the tiles steamed, and through the open stall a shape moved against another shape. Kairo's laugh, careless, reckless, blended with the soft sound of someone else falling apart under him. The sight made something in Sara flip. every breath felt too loud.
She never meant to stay. She only meant to peek, to know. But the sound held her like a magnet.
When she heard the sound of the door opening and the two of them stepped out, she panicked. Her feet betrayed her. She turned to run, and her glasses slipped off her face and clattered to the floor with a small, foolish thud.
For a second, she closed her eyes, and she ran away from there, trying to pretend the noise hadn't been hers.
"Someone's there," the girl said, wrapping the towel around her, voice bright with afterglow.
"Let's see." Kairo's voice cut across the tiles, casual as ever.
Kairo came out, a towel at his hips, water still beading at his collarbone. He looked around the room like he belonged to it, like it belonged to him. Nobody else was there. He glanced at the floor and froze on something small and round, the glasses.
He picked them up. For a moment, his expression flickered: recognition, amusement. He smirked, the corner of his mouth lifting like he'd tasted something funny. "Who was it?" the girl asked, winding her towel higher.
"None," he lied, tucking the glasses into his backpack pocket with the same casual motion as tossing a wrapper into a bin. "Maybe some other sound."
She wrapped her arms around his neck, voice honeyed. "Call me whenever you need me."
"Sure, darling." He didn't mean it, but he smiled. he captured her lips one last time, devouring her mouth. She replied to him with the same intensity. She pulled back, breathing heavy,
"Thanks for a great shower session," she said seductively while caressing his c*ck over the wrapped towel.
"My pleasure, darling." He said, smirking.
She smiled and picked up her scattered dress and put it on, she blew him a little wicked wink, before leaving. Kairo watched her go, then pushed his damp hair back and went back to whatever he'd been doing before the interruption. practice, people, life. The glasses sat heavy and small in his pocket, and it made him smirk again.
Two days later, Sara trailed him the way she always did, not bold, not obvious, but that careful, quiet stalking that had become her second breath. She followed from campus, through the parking lot, past the food stalls. Kairo walked like he didn't belong to anything but the court; other people patterned themselves around him.
He cut across the usual path, and Sara's heart misfired. He took a turn she hadn't seen him take before. A narrow lane. Fewer lights. Fewer people. Her stomach tightened, but she kept going; she needed to know. She had to.
The alley closed in, brick walls tight, a single flickering lamp casting long shadows. Her steps were smaller now, cautious. She was looking around and then, like smoke, he slipped away.
Panic rose, stupid and sharp. She quickened, then slowed. There was no road forward. Her pulse was a drum in her ears. Her legs felt suddenly stupid and heavy. She turned to go back and started running, breathlessly, without stopping, and then someone grabbed her wrist.
Hard. Rough. She was jerked into the corner, pressed against cold brick. The world narrowed to a point of green flame.
For a second, she didn't see him. Then his face was inches away. Those eyes, sharp, green, pinned her like a secret exposed. She was gasping. The alley smelled like old rain and his cologne, and her knees warmed in a way they'd never warmed before.
He shoved a small plastic bottle toward her, and she gulped the water. It hit her throat like sanity. When the tremor eased, he watched her, unreadable.
"Are you stalking me?" he asked, not loud, not cruel. Just precise.
She looked down. Her voice was nothing. "No."
He looked at her, soft and sharp. She could take his intense gaze, her heart racing again, and she tried to run. But he blocked her, pressing his palm on the brick, locking her from both sides,
"Don't think of running away or fainting this time." He moved until his body blocked the alley both ways. Her chest tightened at how easily he closed all exits. He lifted her chin with two fingers and forced her to meet him. Nerves bobbed on her skin.
She tried to close her eyes. He leaned in, breath warm. She shut them hard, and then he stopped, but the whisper of his breath stayed. "Why do I always find you when I'm fucking someone?" he said.
She cracked an eye and peeped. He watched her reaction like he was enjoying a new toy.
"If you want me that much," he said, softly, "just ask. I'll give whatever you want."
She swallowed. Then took a breath, gathering courage. Her voice came out thin. "Is there any girl left in the college that you didn't fuck around with?" It came out like a challenge, but it was more of a question she needed the answer to.
He smirked. "No," he said easily. "There is one left."
She studied him. He said, almost bored, "And that one left over is you."
She bristled. "Don't even think of me like that."
He studied her face, like reading a book that kept surprising him. "Oh, really? And why not?" he asked.
"Because I'm not like others." It should have been said as a lie, but it wasn't. It was what she wanted to be and somewhat believed she was.
He chuckled, a sound that crawled along her spine. "Then why do you follow me around intentionally?"
"I didn't," she snapped too quickly. The denial hung, too loud.
He said, flat, "You did. And you're still doing it."
She tried the old club excuse. "That day, it was a mistake. I didn't mean to enter the room."
He looked at her, slow, amused. "Then what about the shower? And today, what even are you doing here?"
She opened her mouth, closed it. "I came to meet my friend Nora," she muttered.
He blinked like he'd been offered a paper crown. "Nora?" He chuckled. "Darling, this is an abandoned alley. Even ghosts avoid this place. You came here for Nora?" His voice was teasing, but it landed like a judgment.
She had nothing to say. Her throat was dry. Then he took out the glasses from the pocket of his jeans and held them out. For an instant, she hated him, hated the calmness in his face, the way he'd kept her object the whole time.
"They were in my locker room," he said. "I found them when I was… entertaining. Don't tell me they're not yours. You're the only one who wears these particular frames."
Her eyes closed. Heat rose to her face. He slid them into her hand and then helped place them on her nose with a slow, deliberate motion. The touch lingered at the bridge of her nose for a second longer than needed.
"What do you want?" he asked. No smirk. Something else now, curiosity, maybe.
She fought for grip on herself, and then the words came out, simple, honest. "You."
His smirk broadened into full-on amusement. "That's it? You want me?" His hands moved like a predator, slipping beneath her top to feel her ribs, cupping her one b**b, feeling her warmth. She shivered but steadied herself. She pulled his hand out and pushed her shirt down again, eyes steady.
"Not like this," she said. "Not just your body."
He stopped. For once, the arrogant grin flickered. "Not just my body?"
She placed her palm on his chest like a claim. "I want everything. Every single part of you. Completely mine."
It hit him, a short silence. She watched his face, hoping she'd meant what she'd said. For the first time, something altered behind his eyes, something that might have been interest.
He gave a small, bitter laugh. "That's not my thing." He let the words hang like a thrown-down glove. "I can give you pleasure. I can make you happy, feel good in that way. But my heart? No."
Her shoulders made the tiniest dip, like a faltering thing. "Then I'll earn it," she said confidently.
He let out a laugh, not cruel, not light. Testing. "Stop dreaming, darling. Say you want me right now, right here. I'll make you come apart and you'll forget to care."
She pushed him back a touch. "Sorry. Not interested."
He actually stalled. Her chest squeezed at the sight: he'd been thrown by a word in a way she'd never seen. Nobody in his orbit refused him. Nobody had said that. For a flash, he looked small, annoyed, baffled, furious with a new kind of hunger.
He reacted the only way he knew how. He pinned her to the wall, hands roaming for the fight, pushing past the words into business. His fingers brushed the waistband of her jeans as if to show her what he could do. But she pulled his hand away, steady and stubborn.
"No. That's not how it works," she said.
He stared at her, something raw and dangerous shining. "You really think you're special?" he growled. "I've had better girls than you, in every way."
She met him with a flatness that steadied her voice. "Maybe I'm not. But I'm hard to earn. What's the point of having a hundred easy girls, if you can't win one that matters?"
He clenched his jaw. "Don't challenge me."
"I'm not," she said. "If you take it as a challenge, then prove it. Earn me."
He looked at her for a long beat and then a grin crawled back onto his face, hungry, hungry in a new direction. "Fine. I accept. But when I earn you, I'll still play. I'll break you. I'll make you beg."
She let out a short, sharp laugh. "The day you actually earn me, you'll be mine, and you won't be able to run your dirty games anymore."
He stepped forward, close enough that his breath warmed her lips. "Let's see," he breathed. "Challenge accepted."
She leaned in until their faces were inches apart, the alley around them tight and breathing. Her voice was soft and dangerous. "Me too, darling."
With that, she pushed him gently and walked away. She didn't look back.
He watched her go, the green in his gaze sharp as a knife. The game had just changed.
A twist found its teeth. A challenge planted like a seed. Whether it would grow soft and sweet or split them open, only time would tell.