The Mafia Boy In My Class

CHAPTER 6, THE BOY WHO SMILES

Damon was back at his desk the next morning like nothing had happened, blazer buttoned, notebook open, same unreadable face he always wore. Ariana studied him for a second before she sat down.

"You're walking like it doesn't hurt," she said quietly.

"It doesn't."

"Liar."

"Fine. It hurts a little."

"That's the most honest thing you've said to me all week."

He almost smiled. Almost. "Don't get used to it."

Mrs. Halden started class before Ariana could answer, handing back their project outlines with red pen scattered across the margins. Ariana groaned at hers.

"She hated the intro."

Damon glanced over. "She hated my intro too."

"No, she circled 'excellent' on yours."

"She circled 'concise.' That's not the same as excellent."

"It's basically the same."

"It's really not."

Ariana leaned over to read his page properly, and Damon shifted the paper slightly, not quite hiding it, just enough to make her work for it.

"Are you seriously not letting me see your own project?"

"You can see it. I'm just not making it easy."

"Why?"

"Because you make everything a competition. I'm evening the odds."

She stared at him. "That's , actually kind of funny."

"I have moments."

"You have one moment. This is the one moment."

He huffed something that wasn't quite a laugh but wasn't far off either, and Ariana caught it, surprised enough that she sat back in her chair just to look at him properly.

"What?" he said.

"Nothing. You just smiled."

"I didn't."

"You did. I saw it happen. There were teeth involved."

"There were no teeth involved."

"Slightly. A little bit of teeth."

Damon shook his head, but the corner of his mouth was still fighting him, and this time he let it win, just for a second , a real smile, quick and unguarded, gone as fast as it came but impossible to take back once she'd seen it.

Two rows back, Lily nearly dropped her pen.

At lunch, Lily cornered Ariana before she'd even sat down. "Okay, what happened in the first period? Because I saw Damon Blackwood smile. An actual smile. With his whole face."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You do. You were right there."

"We were just talking about the project."

"People don't smile like that over a project, Ariana."

Ariana opened her mouth to argue and then didn't, because Lily wasn't wrong, and she didn't have a better explanation ready. "He's not as cold as he acts," she said instead. "That's all. There's a person under all that... whatever this is."

"Careful," Lily said, only half joking. "That sounds like the beginning of a crush."

"It's not a crush. I just think people write him off too fast."

"Sure."

"They do."

"I said sure."

Ariana rolled her eyes and reached for her bag, only to remember, with a small sinking feeling, that she hadn't packed lunch that morning. There hadn't been time , she'd left before her mother even finished making coffee, and the ten dollars she usually kept folded in her jacket pocket had gone toward the bus fare her card wouldn't cover.

"I'll just skip today," she said, more to herself than to Lily.

"You skipped Tuesday too."

"I'm fine."

"You say that every time."

"Because it's true every time."

Lily didn't look convinced, but the bell cut off whatever she was about to say next, and Ariana pushed the hunger down the way she always did, telling herself it was one lunch, it wasn't a big deal, she'd eat properly at home.

She didn't notice Damon watching from two tables away. She didn't see him the moment she opened her bag, found nothing, and closed it again without a word to anyone. She didn't see the small, careful way his jaw tightened, the same way it had the day the message lit up his phone in the cafeteria , quiet, controlled, the kind of reaction that didn't want to be seen.

He didn't say anything to her. He got up instead, walked to the counter, and bought two of everything , sandwich, fruit, a bottle of juice , before slipping out of the cafeteria before she could notice he was gone.

By the time Ariana made it to her locker after the last period, there was a paper bag sitting on top of her books, tucked just inside the door someone had left unlatched. No name. No note. Just a sandwich, an apple, and a bottle of juice, still cold.

She stood there for a second, staring at it.

"Lily," she called down the hallway. "Did you put this here?"

Lily jogged over, took one look, and shook her head. "Not me. Why would I leave you food in your locker like a raccoon?"

"I don't know. Someone did."

"Weird." Lily picked up the sandwich, inspecting it like it might explain itself. "Maybe the cafeteria messed up an order and someone just , left it? People do weird stuff."

"Maybe." Ariana took it back, turning it over in her hands. It wasn't the kind of thing that happened by accident. Someone had bought this on purpose, for her, specifically, and hadn't wanted credit for it.

She thought, briefly, of Damon , and then dismissed the thought just as fast, because it didn't make sense. He barely knew her lunch habits. He couldn't have known.

She didn't see him standing at the end of the hallway, half-hidden by the corner, watching her eat the sandwich in small, careful bites like she wasn't sure she was allowed to enjoy it.

Noah found him there a minute later.

"You're staring again."

"I'm not staring."

"You bought her lunch."

"I bought lunch. She happened to eat some of it."

"Sure." Noah leaned against the wall next to him, watching the same hallway. "You know this is how it starts, right? First it's a sandwich. Then it's paying off a family's debt. Then it's a full-scale war with a rival family because someone touched a hair on her head."

Damon didn't answer that. He was still watching Ariana fold the empty paper bag into a neat square before tucking it into her backpack, like she intended to keep it.

He didn't know why that detail bothered him as much as it did. He only knew that somewhere in the last two weeks, without de

ciding to, he'd started keeping track of things about her he had no reason to keep track of , and he had absolutely no idea how to stop.