Chapter 7_Dangerous Desk Mate
574 Words
The hallway was alive with noise — until it wasn’t.
Conversations faltered. Lockers slammed quieter. Even footsteps seemed to still.
Evi paused mid-step, something strange prickling at the back of her neck.
She looked up.
And her heart stopped.
Lucien.
Striding through the school’s main corridor like a slow, living storm — dressed in their grey uniform, tie askew, collar open to reveal the edge of that inked tattoo that curled down his throat.
But it wasn’t just the way he walked — it was the way the air shifted around him.
Girls turned. Whispered.
> “Who is that?”
“Is he new?”
“Is it even legal to look that good?”
He didn’t glance at any of them. Not once.
Until he saw her.
And then he smirked.
Not the polite kind.
Not even the cocky kind.
It was the kind that said: I’m here for you. And I don’t plan on behaving.
> “Morning, Evi,” he drawled as he passed. “Save me a seat.”
Her jaw dropped.
He did not just—
---
She stormed into her next class late, still breathless.
And there he was.
In her seat.
Back row. Left side. The only spot she ever felt invisible in.
Lucien glanced up lazily.
> “You’re late,” he said, as if this was normal.
> “You’re in my spot,” she snapped.
He leaned back in the chair, long legs stretched under the desk like he’d been born there.
> “Didn’t see your name on it.”
> “What the hell are you doing here?”
> “Learning,” he said innocently. “I’m a student now. Registered this morning. Turns out, I’m very interested in… human behavior.”
He looked straight at her lips when he said it.
> “This isn’t a game,” she hissed, sliding into the seat beside him. “You can’t just follow me to school.”
He leaned in, voice warm, low, velvet-dark.
> “I’m not following you. I’m claiming you.”
Her heart stuttered. His scent hit her again — cold wind, old leather, blood and rain. So wrong. So good.
Class started. But she couldn’t focus.
Not when Lucien’s thigh brushed hers.
Not when he slowly, deliberately, let his fingers slide along the edge of her hand under the desk.
> “Stop,” she whispered without looking at him.
> “Tell me to stop like you mean it.”
She turned, glaring.
But her breath hitched when she saw the heat in his eyes. He looked at her like he could already taste her.
> “Say my name again,” he murmured, “and I’ll kiss you right here.”
She yanked her hand away. He caught it — slow, firm, never harsh.
Their hands tangled under the table now, hidden, pulsing with heat.
> “You can pull away,” he said. “Or you can admit you like this.”
Her voice trembled.
> “You're insane.”
> “And you're addicted.”
She hated that he was right. Hated that the tension curling in her stomach was need — not fear.
And just before the bell rang, Lucien leaned in again, lips grazing the shell of her ear.
> “Meet me after school.”
> “Why?”
> “Because I’m done pretending to stay away.”
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- Writer
