shaper Edge, Deeper cuts
878 Words
Wednesday
I didn’t want to work with him.
Being paired with Cassian Moretti felt like some kind of punishment handed down by the gods of chaos. It was bad enough that he was everywhere — in the halls, the lunchroom, my nightmares. Now he was sitting beside me in the lab, his stupid smirk practically carved into my periphery.
“Don’t touch anything,” I snapped as he reached for the lab folder. “You’ll set something on fire.”
Cassian leaned back in his seat, arms spread across the back of his chair like a throne. “Relax, Ghost Girl. I know where the test tubes go. This isn’t my first time playing Daddy.”
I didn’t even bother answering. I focused on the assignment — a chemical bonding simulation that was meant to mimic the biological process of conception.
A baby project. The kind where two people had to work in sync, pretend to raise a digital child, and complete a series of compatibility and science-based tasks.
Cute.
Cruel.
Cassian was anything but compatible.
I reached for the formula sheet at the same time he did. Our fingers brushed. My entire spine stiffened.
“Still pretending you don’t want me?” he said under his breath, voice low and cocky.
“Still pretending I didn’t punch you yesterday?” I shot back.
He laughed — not fake, not forced. Genuine, deep, rich. It infuriated me.
“I like it when you get violent,” he said.
“I like it when you shut up.”
The room buzzed with other students whispering, watching us. Judging. A few girls glared at me with barely hidden contempt, their jealousy curling around them like perfume.
And then came Brielle.
Cassian’s favorite flavor of the week. Tall, blonde, and venomous.
She walked by our table with a sway in her hips and a sneer on her lips. “Didn’t know they were pairing up psychopaths with playboys,” she muttered loud enough for everyone to hear. “Thought they were trying to keep the blood off the walls.”
I ignored her.
But she wasn’t done.
As she passed, her shoulder slammed into mine — hard, deliberate.
The reaction was immediate.
I spun, caught her by the wrist, and twisted until her eyes watered.
“You really wanna bleed in front of your fan club?” I hissed.
She yelped, loud and dramatic, collapsing backward into a desk.
Blood was already dripping from a small cut on her wrist. Maybe I’d twisted too hard. Maybe I didn’t care.
The class went dead silent.
The teacher stood frozen at the front. “Wednesday Hale. Office. Now.”
I didn’t move.
I didn’t regret it.
Cassian stood slowly beside me. “It wasn’t her fault,” he said, voice smooth and calm like he’d practiced it. “Brielle started it. I saw the whole thing.”
“You expect me to believe you were paying attention?” the teacher snapped.
“I pay attention when it matters,” Cassian said, eyes sliding to mine.
The teacher hesitated.
It wasn’t his words. It was who he was. The heir. The Moretti name carried more weight than mine ever would. And in this academy, weight was power.
“Fine,” the teacher muttered. “But both of you — detention.”
I didn’t thank him.
I didn’t look at him.
But as I sat down again, I felt his eyes on me.
Cassian
She didn’t say thank you.
Of course she didn’t.
Wednesday Hale didn’t ask for help. She didn’t want it. She wore her trauma like armor, used her silence as a blade.
But I saw the way her hands shook after she let go of Brielle. I saw the way she clenched her jaw like she’d rather bite her tongue off than let a tear fall.
And for a second — just a second — I wanted to reach out.
To fix something I didn’t understand.
I didn’t like her.
She wasn’t my type. She wasn’t soft or giggly or easy to impress. She didn’t touch me. She didn’t even look at me unless she had to.
But something about her was… electric.
Like staring at a storm you knew would destroy you but stepping closer anyway.
So I helped her. I stood beside her. I told a lie to keep her safe.
And she didn’t even look at me.
Later that day…
In the quiet of the corridor, just before our mandatory detention session began, I found her by the lockers.
“You’re welcome, Ghost Girl,” I said.
She didn’t turn. “I didn’t ask for your help.”
“I know. That’s what makes it interesting.”
She finally turned, eyes flat and furious. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Staring. Talking. Mocking. Protecting. I don’t need it.”
I took a step closer, brushing my fingers against the metal beside her head. “Maybe I like watching you lose control.”
“You won’t be laughing when I break your jaw.”
“I’d probably still think you’re hot.”
She shoved past me.
And I let her.
Because even if I didn’t know why…
I couldn’t stop watching her walk away.
- Writer
