Dangerous banter
1060 Words
Monday morning arrived too quickly. The slap she had delivered in the hospital still pulsed in Aria’s mind like a spark she couldn’t shake off. She told herself she didn’t care, that Damian Cole could burn in his arrogance, but the memory of his eyes locking on hers wouldn’t leave her.
On campus, the atmosphere buzzed with the lazy energy of the first day of the week. Students clustered in groups, laughter spilling into the air. Aria kept her books close to her chest, her head down. She wanted to melt into the crowd, but whispers trailed her like shadows.
“That’s the girl from the hospital, right?” one student whispered.
“I heard she slapped Damian Cole,” another replied, disbelief thick in his voice.
“No one slaps Damian and survives,” someone else muttered.
Aria bit her lip and walked faster. The walls felt closer than ever, as though the whole school had suddenly learned her name. She hated it. Attention was a spotlight she never asked for.
But the moment she stepped into the lecture hall, silence seemed to ripple. She didn’t have to look to know. She felt it.
Damian Cole.
He leaned lazily against the desk in the front row, black shirt rolled to his elbows, every inch of him radiating power and danger. His friends filled the seats around him, laughing loudly, yet his gaze never moved. His eyes tracked her the moment she entered, locking her into that magnetic stare.
Aria swallowed and told herself, Ignore him. Just ignore him. She climbed the stairs and slipped into a seat near the back.
But chairs scraped. Steps followed.
A shadow fell over her desk.
“Morning, Butterfly.”
Her pen froze mid-sentence. Slowly, she looked up. His smirk was infuriatingly calm.
“Do not call me that,” she muttered.
“I will, until you tell me not to with something better than a slap,” Damian said, sliding into the seat beside her as though it already belonged to him.
“You are unbelievable,” Aria hissed.
“Thank you,” he murmured, leaning just close enough for her to catch the faint trace of expensive cologne. “Most people would call it charm.”
“Most people probably hate you,” she shot back.
His grin widened. “Then you are not most people, because you did not hate the way I looked at you.”
Her pulse spiked. She shifted in her chair, trying to create space, but he only tilted closer.
“You think you know me,” she said under her breath.
“No,” Damian corrected. “I want to know you. There’s a difference.”
The professor stormed in, beginning the lecture, but Damian didn’t move his eyes from her. His attention was a weight she couldn’t escape. She scribbled into her notebook, the words blurring, her hand shaking slightly.
Finally, she turned and whispered, “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Staring at me. Following me. Acting like… like this.”
His lips curved. “Because you slapped me.”
Her eyes widened. “That is why?”
“That is where it started,” Damian admitted, his voice low. “But now? Now I cannot get you out of my head. No one stands up to me. No one looks at me like you do.”
She glared at him. “You are obsessed.”
“Correct,” he said easily.
Her breath caught. The way he said it wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t a game. His voice carried truth, sharp and raw.
When the lecture ended, Aria rushed to gather her things. She moved quickly, desperate to leave before he cornered her again. But Damian was faster. He caught her wrist lightly, forcing her to pause.
“Why are you running?” he asked softly.
“Because I don’t want to play your games.”
His eyes darkened. “This isn’t a game.”
She yanked her hand free. “Then stop following me.”
But he only stepped closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “I will stop when you stop making me want more.”
Her breath hitched. For a heartbeat, their eyes locked, the space between them electric, dangerous. She forced herself to break it, shoving past him into the hallway.
The corridors buzzed with chatter, students glancing at her, whispering again. She hated it. She hated him. And yet her chest burned with something she refused to name.
By the time she reached the library, her hands trembled as she shoved her books onto a desk. She sank into the chair, her heart racing.
“Focus,” she whispered. “You survived Ethan. You can survive this.”
But then his voice slid into her ear from behind. “Survive me? Butterfly, you won’t have to. You’ll enjoy me.”
She spun in her chair, glaring. “Do you ever stop?”
“Not when I want something,” Damian said, sliding into the seat across from her. His tone was lower now, almost dangerous. “And right now, I want you.”
Her throat tightened. “You don’t even know me.”
“Then tell me something real.”
She crossed her arms. “Fine. I think you are arrogant, spoiled, and used to people worshipping the ground you walk on.”
He grinned. “All true.”
She blinked. “You are not supposed to agree.”
“But you are still here talking to me,” Damian said, leaning closer across the table. “So tell me, Aria, what does that make you?”
Her lips parted, but no words came. Because deep down, she hated that he was right. She hated that his voice, his presence, the intensity in his eyes all hooked into her no matter how much she tried to pull away.
She shoved her chair back, standing abruptly. “Stay away from me.”
His voice followed her, calm and certain. “I won’t.”
Aria stormed out of the library, her heart in chaos. She wanted to scream, to curse him, to erase his face from her mind. But even as her anger blazed, another truth sank in.
Damian Cole was dangerous.
And she wasn’t sure if she wanted to escape him.
- Writer
