Prologue
“You mentioned that, what you wanted to say was urgent—yet you are the one that shows up late”, he said mockingly as soon as she entered the chemistry lab.
“I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting—mrs flynn had me take some books to her office”, she explained and turned to face him, startled and obviously shaken.
She closes the door behind her.
He nodded, pushing himself from against the wall, hands in his pockets.
“So why’d you want to meet up, Sherlock?”he asked, smirking, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Are you having a crush on me?”, he added.
“Ew—No—no—it’s not what you think”, she stutters, raising her hands and stopping them midway.
“Tell me what I haven’t heard before”, he murmured, rolling his eyes.
“What is it then? Sherlock”, he asked her again as he began walking to her in long strides.
Amusement written all over his face, he was totally enjoying this.
“I—I—think we’re…”, she paused midway and looked up, he was in front of her now and it made her heart skip a beat and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
How had he gotten here—she had been too nervous to notice when he had walked up to her.
His smirk grew, raising his hand and letting it land softly on her face, he smoothens a stray hair on her face and tucks it behind her ear.
Then his other hand grabbed her waist and pulled her closer to him.
“What is it, Sherlock? Cat got your tongue now?”, he asked, the glint still evident in his eyes, his lips still curved up in a teasing smirk.
She on the other hand stood there stunned, her heartbeat hammering loud in her ears.
What would she do if he wasn’t the one?
Would he let her off that easily?
She looked up at him. This was the closest she had been with him after— she shook her head, reeling back to her senses.
Bringing her hands between them she pushed, wanting to get as far away from him as possible.
“Ugh!, you’re no fun at all, Shelly”,
Another nickname!— he pulled away from her, tucking his hands back in his pockets, he began to walk out, wanting to hear her voice calling after him…begging him not to go. At least that’s what they all do.
She panicked, her chances of confirming if he was “the Jay” she knew, ”her Jay” was slipping through her fingers, so she resorted to her last resort.
“Brown?!”, she called out, he froze in his steps then spun around.
The smirk gone, surprise and irritation written all over his face.
His brow furrowed in disbelief.
‘How had she known that name?—his mom’s name, how?’
“Are you stalking me now—tryna dig up dirt or what? What are you on about?”, he thundered, irritation clear in his voice.
“Oh my gosh—it’s really you”, she gasped, hands covering her mouth.
“Jay?”, she called out softly this time.
His gaze softened. Nobody had called him that in years.
“It’s me—Lena—Helena Robinson—your best friend!”.
The last part—a high pitched whisper
