The next morning, Crescent High was alive with the usual hum of whispers and footsteps, but Aria felt a gnawing tension in her chest. The previous day’s study group had left her both exhausted and oddly exhilarated. She had survived Damian’s scrutiny without cracking, yet the memory of his smirk and piercing gaze lingered like a shadow she couldn’t shake.
She entered the debate room early, hoping for a quiet moment before the others arrived. Instead, Damian was already there, pacing near the chalkboard, his hands stuffed into his pockets, jaw tight, and eyes dark. His presence was commanding, and even though she tried to appear casual, her stomach clenched.
“Late again,” he muttered under his breath as she approached, voice low but sharp enough to slice through the air. “I’m beginning to
