Sam's POV
The classroom smelled faintly of chalk and old books, but I barely noticed. My attention was locked on the far corner where Liam Fernandez leaned against a desk, arms crossed, smirking like he owned the world. My fists ached from the hallway fight, my jaw clenched, and yet… I couldn't stop my heart from thudding when our eyes met.
I muttered under my breath, "Why does he have to be so infuriating?"
Of course, he heard me. He always did.
"You know, you look really serious," he said smoothly, smirk in place. "Like you're plotting my doom or something."
"Maybe I am," I snapped, voice low. "You bumped into me earlier. You're impossible."
He leaned slightly forward, grinning. "Impossible, huh? I like impossible."
My jaw tightened. Why did his calm, teasing tone make my blood boil even more? I clenched my notebook closer to my chest, trying to focus on anything but him, but the whisper in my head returned, soft and melodic: "Focus… write it down… let it out."
I scribbled furiously, letting the pen flow over the page, though my anger didn't subside. My mind replayed the hallway incident again and again. He doesn't even know me, yet he acts like he owns everything around him…
"You writing a secret diary?" Liam asked casually, leaning closer.
"None of your business," I snapped, clutching the notebook tighter.
"Private, huh? I like private," he said, eyes sparkling with mischief.
I froze. That smirk, teasing as ever, was almost infuriating… and yet… I couldn't look away.
Liam's POV
She was fire wrapped in silence. Every twitch of her fingers, every glare, was sharp and deliberate. And yet, when she hugged that notebook to her chest, there was something vulnerable there — something that made me want to reach out… though I didn't know why.
I leaned back in my chair, smirking, watching her scowl. "You know, you're kinda fun when you're angry," I said.
"Fun? You're joking," she snapped, cheeks reddening.
"Not joking," I said, letting the teasing linger. "Like… unpredictable. Dangerous in a good way."
Her jaw tightened. "I don't have to explain myself to you."
"Maybe not," I said softly. "But I want to understand things… about you."
I noticed the slight crease on my shirt from the bump in the hallway. Normally, I wouldn't care — but something about that moment, about her reaction… it gnawed at me. I wanted to apologize, but the words caught in my throat.
She flipped open her notebook and scribbled something, her brow furrowed. I watched, fascinated. I couldn't tell if it was anger, fear, or something more complicated that made her bite her lip and avoid my gaze. She was fire, she was dangerous, and somehow… she was drawing me in.
When her notebook slipped to the floor, I bent down, brushing my fingers against hers. Sam jerked back, eyes wide, flushed with surprise. Electric. A spark passed between us, undeniable. My smirk faltered, replaced by something I didn't quite understand. Confusion? Curiosity? Something more?
Author's POV
The classroom was quiet, the desks aligned neatly, sunlight streaming in. But all the real action was in the storm brewing between Sam and Liam. Every glance, every word, every accidental brush of fingers carried tension — unspoken, electric, and dangerous.
Sam's fists clenched under her desk, her cheeks flushed, her eyes locked on him with a mixture of anger and something she didn't dare name. Liam's smirk, calm but teasing, only made the fire in her chest burn brighter. The bump in the hallway had been small, almost accidental, yet the effect lingered — a crease in his shirt, a flicker of emotion neither of them wanted to admit.
Detention ended with the bell, but neither moved immediately. The tension was thick, teasing and taunting, leaving one question hanging in the air:
What would happen the next time Sam and Liam crossed paths? And why did the whispering voice in Sam's mind seem to grow stronger every time she was near him?