Chapter 2
952 Words
Chapter Two: Rules of Engagement
Université de Saint-Aubin – Student Lounge
Tuesday – 3:14 PM
Stella tapped her pen against her notebook, her handwriting a mess of bullet points and underlines. She sat across from Julien at the corner table in the student lounge, surrounded by murmured conversations, the hum of espresso machines, and the faint scent of anxiety and caffeine.
Julien, for once, looked serious—almost.
He leaned back, legs stretched too far, the sleeves of his gray sweatshirt pushed up his forearms. His annotated law journal sat open in front of him, untouched for the last ten minutes.
“Are you even listening?” Stella asked, narrowing her eyes.
“I was. Until you repeated ‘precedent’ six times like a human metronome.” He raised an eyebrow. “You know, there’s this thing called a pause. Helps normal people process information.”
She scowled. “This is why I usually work alone.”
Julien’s lips curled into a half-smile. “No, you work alone because you don’t trust anyone not to screw it up.”
She blinked. The words hit too close.
He leaned forward, voice lower. “Am I wrong?”
Stella’s pen paused mid-air. She didn’t answer.
Because he wasn’t wrong. And that pissed her off more than anything.
She flipped a page. “Let’s divide the oral argument sections. You take the constitutional analysis, I’ll cover judicial review. It keeps our styles distinct.”
Julien c****d his head. “You think our styles are that different?”
She gave a clipped nod. “I don’t flirt with judges.”
He grinned. “You haven’t seen me in court yet.”
Two Hours Later – Leaving Campus
They walked out together, not intentionally. The meeting had run long, and the sky was already shifting into dusk.
Stella adjusted her scarf as the wind picked up. Paris in early autumn had a way of biting right through you.
Julien shoved his hands into his pockets, strolling with maddening ease beside her. “So, what’s the deal with you and Romain?”
She stopped mid-step. “Excuse me?”
“The guy from your econ class. Tall. Hair like a Ken doll. He keeps staring at you like you owe him money or a kidney.”
Stella crossed her arms. “We dated. Briefly. Didn’t work.”
Julien’s gaze flicked to her. “Why?”
“Because he thought ambition was unattractive. Said I was ‘intense.’”
Julien snorted. “So... he was intimidated by you.”
She didn’t respond, but her silence was telling.
Julien smiled again, softer this time. “For the record, intensity’s not a flaw. It’s... compelling.”
Stella glanced at him, unsure whether he was being genuine or just playing a game.
“Don’t flirt with me,” she said tightly.
“I wasn’t.” His voice was calm. “Just telling the truth.”
Wednesday – 11:42 AM – Law Library
Julien was late.
Stella drummed her fingers on the table, her notes neatly stacked, highlighter poised like a weapon. She was halfway through her annotated draft when she heard him behind her.
“Sorry,” he said, dropping his bag. “Had clinic rounds. A patient had a panic attack in the elevator.”
Her irritation faltered. “Are they okay?”
“Yeah. Young guy. First-year. Thought he was having a heart attack, turns out it was just stress.” Julien slid into the chair, rubbing his face. “We’ve all been there.”
There it was again—that shadow behind his voice. A trace of something heavier than he let on.
“You volunteer at the university clinic?” Stella asked cautiously.
“Every week. Part of the pre-med track.” He paused. “Also... kind of personal.”
She waited.
Julien didn’t look at her as he said, “My dad used to have panic attacks. Never admitted it. Called it 'being tired.' Until it killed him.”
Stella stared, the highlighter frozen between her fingers.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
He gave a tight nod. “It’s been a few years. Still shows up when I least expect it.”
Silence settled between them. Not awkward, for once. Just real.
She nudged her outline toward him. “I marked your section with notes. And don’t take this the wrong way, but your logic here—” she pointed, “—is flawed.”
Julien grinned, the mood lifting. “Flawed? I’m offended.”
“You should be. You quoted the wrong article.”
He leaned closer, mock whispering. “So you admit it—you read my section thoroughly.”
She pushed his face away with the back of her hand. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Later That Night – Julien’s Apartment
Julien stood at his kitchen counter, laptop open, earbuds in, rereading Stella’s edits.
She was brutal. Organized. Relentless.
And brilliant.
He didn’t know when it happened—when the animosity had turned into admiration. Or maybe he always knew it was admiration, masked as rivalry. That would explain why he could never stay away from her.
Julien had been good at pretending. The charming bad boy, the flirt, the guy who didn’t care.
But with Stella, none of that worked. She saw right through the act. Called out the cracks in his armor.
And part of him wanted her to.
He clicked open a new document and started typing, the words coming faster than he expected.
Argument: People like Stella Baeumont don’t let others in easily. But once they do... you’ll never find someone more loyal. Or more terrifying.
He stared at the sentence for a long moment, then hit delete.
- Writer
