Almost hate, Almost love✨❤️

Chapter 2: FORCED

I didn’t expect him to text me first. Not in a million years.

My phone buzzed while I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling and pretending not to think about him. The ceiling fan spun lazily, but my mind was racing, circling back to the brief moments in class: the way his pen moved across the paper, the casual tilt of his head, the calm way he seemed to exist in a world that I was constantly stumbling through.

Unknown Number:

Group meeting. Library. 6pm.

No greeting. No emoji. No “Hey, how was your day?” Nothing but three words that carried more weight than I was ready to deal with.

I stared at the screen, blinking a few times as if the text might rewrite itself into something less demanding. I considered ignoring it. After all, he was just a classmate, right? Someone I barely knew. Someone I might even… almost hate.

Me:

I didn’t agree to a meeting.

The reply came almost immediately, and the swiftness made my stomach twist in an uncomfortable way.

Unknown Number:

The assignment doesn’t care.

I rolled my eyes, trying to convince myself I wasn’t affected by the curt text. I tossed my phone onto the bed, turning over to face the wall. But my thoughts betrayed me, drifting to him, to the quiet confidence in the way he had walked past me in class, to the subtle curl of his lips when he corrected someone else’s notes.

Eventually, I typed back.

Me:

Fine.

I told myself I was annoyed. That this was strictly about the assignment. I told myself I wouldn’t let curiosity—or anything else—interfere.

But at 6pm, when I entered the library, reality hit harder than I expected.

He was already there.

Noah. Calm, composed, sleeves rolled up, laptop open. His backpack sat neatly beside his chair, and he didn’t look up immediately. His focus was intense, as if he was in a world that existed beyond the hum of fluorescent lights and rustling pages.

I swallowed, feeling suddenly out of place, out of sync. The library had been my refuge before, but now it seemed smaller, quieter, like it existed solely for the two of us.

Finally, he looked up, and his eyes found mine. Calm. Steady. Irritatingly unshaken.

“You’re late,” he said. Not accusatory, just stating a fact.

“Not your clock,” I replied, dropping my bag onto the table with a little more force than necessary. The clatter echoed across the quiet space.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Feisty.”

I shot him a look, sharp and pointed. “Let’s just get this over with.”

We set to work, at first in tense silence. I typed furiously, flipping through my notebook, trying to focus on the assignment while stealing glances at him. The way he moved, the way he organized his notes, the slight furrow in his brow—it all made my pulse uneven, though I refused to admit it even to myself.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he said suddenly, breaking the quiet. His tone wasn’t harsh, but it carried an authority that made my chest tighten.

I stiffened, glancing at him. “Excuse me?”

He leaned closer, pointing at my messy outline. “Your argument is solid, but your structure is weak. If you presented it like this, you’d lose marks unnecessarily.”

I hated that he was right. “Why do you care?” I snapped, a little louder than intended.

He paused, pen hovering over his notebook. For a moment, there was something in his eyes—soft, patient, almost… concerned.

“Because if we fail, we both fail,” he said finally.

I wanted to look away, to pretend that his words didn’t resonate. But I couldn’t.

An hour passed, the library growing quieter as people trickled out. We barely noticed. Our focus had shifted from the assignment to the unspoken tension that hovered in the air between us. His presence was oppressive and magnetic all at once.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated on the table. I snatched it up, startled, and saw a message from my best friend:

OMG. Isn’t Noah King the guy who broke Zara’s heart last semester?

My fingers froze. My heart stumbled. The rumor mill had been whispering, but I had tried to ignore it. And yet here it was, staring me in the face, threatening to color everything I thought I knew about him.

I looked up slowly, my thoughts racing. He was watching me. His dark eyes were focused, curious, like he already knew something had shifted within me.

“Problem?” he asked casually, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

“No,” I said, forcing a smile, but my throat felt tight. “Nothing.”

The rest of the session passed in a blur. I tried to concentrate, flipping pages, jotting down notes, but the rumor echoed in my mind, a constant refrain: heartbreaker.

When we finally packed up, I avoided his eyes. I needed distance. I needed clarity. But as I walked away, I couldn’t help the pull in my chest, the curiosity that was slowly turning into something else, something I couldn’t name.

Outside, the evening air was cool and fragrant with the scent of rain on concrete. I drew a deep breath, trying to shake the feelings I didn’t want to admit.

And then I saw him. Across the quad, standing by the fountain, looking… exactly the same. Calm. Unbothered. Untouchable.

For a moment, I considered turning back, telling him I was busy, that I didn’t want to see him again. But my feet moved on their own, dragging me toward him despite every rational thought in my head.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up again,” I said, trying for annoyance but failing miserably.

“I call it responsibility,” he replied, smirking. “Or maybe dedication.”

“Whatever you call it,” I muttered, crossing my arms, “I’m not here to make friends.”

“Good,” he said, leaning against the fountain. “I’m not looking for friends either.”

And just like that, the afternoon stretched between us, long and quiet, punctuated by stolen glances, shared notes, and the unspoken truth that neither of us wanted to admit: the assignment was just an excuse.

By the time I left, my head was spinning with more than just work. I had caught glimpses of a side of him I wasn’t supposed to see, a side that made my pulse quicken and my thoughts betray me.

I tried to remind myself it was just an assignment. Nothing more.

But deep down, I already knew the truth.