The library smelled of old paper and silence, but Sara was reading a book calmly.
"Soda glass," a voice drawled behind her.
Her entire body stiffened. She didn't even need to turn. He always sounded the same: like he was smirking while he spoke. She closed the book carefully, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of startling her. Then she turned, slowly.
And there he was. Kairo. Leaning against the shelf as though the library was built for him to pose in, green eyes dancing, that cocky half-smile playing on his lips.
"What do you want?" she asked, clipped.
"What I always want," he said, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "Your attention."
Her lips twitched. She hated that he was succeeding. "You have an entire college drooling over you. Go collect attention from your fan club. Maybe a new chick will fall for you."
He tilted his head. "Why would I want a fan club when I can have the president? who is head over heels for me."
She rolled her eyes. "Not funny."
"It wasn't a joke." He pushed himself off the shelf and strolled closer, invading her space the way he always did. He leaned one arm on the table beside her, caging her without touching. His scent was soap and arrogance. "Let's date."
She raised an eyebrow. "That's your big idea?"
"Not an idea. A fact, and you are the one who suggested this. remember?" His grin widened. "So, we're going on a date. Tonight."
Sara snorted, shutting the book with a snap. "And what if I say no?"
"Then you'll still come. Because you're curious. And because you want me, you just don't want to admit it." He tapped her glasses lightly with a fingertip. "These don't hide that look in your eyes, soda glass."
Her cheeks warmed, but she didn't flinch. "You're so sure of yourself. That's why you'll lose."
"Lose?" He laughed, genuinely amused. "Darling, I've never lost."
"Then maybe it's time." She stood, book under her arm, brushing past him deliberately close. "Text your fan club instead. I don't play by your rules."
But as she walked away, she felt his gaze on her like a weight, heavy and intent.
That night, she regretted everything.
Because of course, he found her.
Sara had gone to the little café near campus to meet her friend Nora. She was sipping iced coffee, minding her business, when the entire room shifted, whispers, giggles, eyes turning. And there he was.
Kairo. In ripped jeans and a loose black hoodie, hair messy from basketball practice. He walked in like he owned the place, and maybe he did. Girls near the counter practically melted as he passed. And then, of course, his eyes locked on her.
"Darling."
Sara cursed under her breath. He slid into the seat across from her without asking, a smirk widening at the sight of her annoyed face.
"Where's your friend?" he asked, looking around.
"Running late," Sara muttered.
"Perfect," he said, leaning forward. "Then this is our first date."
"This is not a date."
"Coffee. Eye contact. Me looking devastatingly good. Definitely a date."
"Is this how you're gonna melt me?" she asked.
He leaned closer, invading her space without touching. The heat of him was enough to make her stomach twist, but she straightened her spine, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
"Maybe you'd melt if I whispered every filthy thing I want to do to you," he continued, his words wicked, slow. "The kind of things that would make your knees weak… though I bet you'd still pretend you don't feel a thing."
Her glare sharpened, though her throat betrayed a faint swallow. Kairo chuckled, deep and rough, like he enjoyed every second of her restraint.
"You'd probably still keep that poker face while I told you how I'd drag my tongue across every inch of your skin," he leaned in just close enough for his breath to brush her ear, "until you're begging and don't even realize it."
Before she could shoot back, another shadow fell across the table. A girl, tall, sleek, curves poured into a tiny dress, stood with a sly smile. Sara recognized her vaguely from class.
"Kairo," the girl said, laying a manicured hand on his shoulder. "I was wondering where you disappeared after practice."
Sara's stomach knotted. Of course. Of course, one of his girls would show up.
Kairo tilted his head up at the girl, smirk still intact. "Hey, darling."
The girl's smile widened. "You still owe me a night. Don't think I forgot."
Sara's fingers tightened around her cup. She hated that her ears strained for his reply.
Kairo looked back at Sara. His eyes stayed locked on hers even as he spoke. "Later. I'm busy right now."
The girl frowned, clearly not used to being dismissed. "Busy? With what?"
Kairo broke eye contact with Sara, only to gesture lazily toward her. "With my date."
Sara choked on her coffee. "Excuse me?"
The girl's eyes widened in disbelief. "Her? Seriously?"
Kairo grinned, wicked and dangerous. "Seriously."
The girl's smile snapped, and she huffed before storming off, heels clicking sharply against the floor. The café buzzed louder, everyone whispering, staring. Sara wanted to disappear.
"What the hell was that?" she hissed.
"Claiming my date." He looked far too pleased with himself.
"This isn't a game where you can just—"
"It is," he cut in smoothly. "And I always win."
"Not this time," she snapped, standing up. Her heart was racing, but she needed him to see it, the line, the refusal. "If you want me, then earn me. But pulling stunts like this? Not working."
He stood too, towering over her. The smirk softened into something sharper, more curious. "You really think you can beat me at my own game?"
She leaned close, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, "I don't need to beat you. I just need to make you lose yourself."
Then she stepped back, grabbed her bag, and walked out, leaving him frozen in the middle of the café, and for the first time, girls whispered not about him, but about her.
Kairo couldn't shake it.
The way she leaned in. The confidence in her voice. The fact that she had just walked out and left him there, when every other girl in his life clung and begged for his attention.
He wanted her. Not just her body, though, god, the thought of her pressed against him, resisting and trembling, was enough to drive him insane, but her defiance. That challenge in her eyes. That refusal.
He hated it. Yet he loved it. He needed it.
So the next day, he found her again.
Sara was walking across campus, headphones in, head down. She didn't hear him until he tugged the wire from her ear.
"What the—" she turned sharply, and there he was.
"Soda glass," he said, smirking. "We're still on for our date."
"We never were."
"Yes, we are. Tonight. Eight. Don't keep me waiting."
"And if I don't show up?"
His grin deepened. "Then I'll hunt you down. And when I find you, I won't let you go until you admit you want me."
Her pulse jumped. She hated that it thrilled her. She hated that she wanted to see what he'd do.
So she tilted her chin, smirking right back. "Then I guess I'll make you work for it."
And she walked away.
He stood there, watching her go, his jaw tight and his chest hot.
Damn her. Damn her for making him feel this way. Damn her for making him want to play a game he wasn't sure he could win.
But one thing was certain.
He wasn't letting her slip.
Not this soda glass.
Not Sara.