WANTED A FLING BUT IT'S A NIGHT

CHAPTER 6 (ELECTRIC)

CHAPTER SIX

Saturday came with unexpected quiet.

The sun was softer, like it had taken a break from scorching the pavement, and the hostel had this stillness that only happened on weekends—no clatter of rushing shoes, no 8 a.m. class panic.

Asher stayed in bed longer than usual, one arm draped over his eyes, the other clutching his phone.

He hadn’t seen Rhett since the mango iced tea incident. And honestly, he didn’t know if he wanted to. Or if Rhett wanted to. It wasn’t like they exchanged numbers or even full names.

Still, he found himself thinking: *What if I see him again? What would I even say?*

Zayn was still asleep in the other bed, snoring softly, one leg hanging off the side like a lizard in the sun.

Eventually, Asher rolled out of bed, took a long shower, and decided to head to the library. Not because he had anything due—but because the silence in his room made him think too much.

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The library was cool and half-empty. Students whispered from behind cubicles, fingers tapping keyboards, pages rustling.

Asher found a corner by the window, pulled out his tablet and some notes, and tried to focus.

But his mind kept drifting.

To Rhett’s voice.

To the moment Rhett handed him that cup without meeting his eyes.

To the way it felt to wake up and not feel alone.

He was scribbling something—nonsense probably—when a voice said, "Stalking me already?"

Asher looked up, startled.

Rhett stood on the other side of the table, sliding into the chair across from him like he owned the silence.

He wore black again, of course. A dark tee, ripped jeans, and a silver ring on his middle finger that Asher hadn’t noticed before.

"I didn’t know you read," Rhett said, glancing at Asher’s book.

"I do," Asher replied. "Sometimes I even write."

"Of course you do. Arts boys."

"Law guys never write?"

"Only to argue. Or ruin people."

Asher grinned. "Sounds charming."

Rhett smirked. "You talk more when you’re not drunk."

"You’re less terrifying when you’re not disappearing."

That made Rhett pause, just for a heartbeat. Then he leaned back in his chair, eyes flicking toward the window.

"Disappearing’s a habit. Not a hobby."

"Didn’t think I’d see you here," Asher said.

Rhett shrugged. "Didn’t think I’d want to see you again. Yet here we are."

Silence settled again, but this time it wasn’t sharp. It was curious.

Asher tapped his pencil on the edge of the table. "Why did you stay that night?"

Rhett looked at him. "Because you asked."

"That simple?"

Rhett nodded. "Yeah. You were drunk. Afraid. You looked like you needed someone. And for some reason... I stayed."

"And now?"

Rhett shrugged. "Now I don’t know what I’m doing. But I’m here, aren’t I?"

And somehow, that answer felt enough—for now.

They didn’t talk for the next thirty minutes. They just sat in that little square of peace, with light filtering through the windows, the world outside continuing like it had no idea something delicate was beginning to unfold.

Something neither of them had expected.

Something dangerously close to more.