Chapter 3
715 Words
In the time that followed, I chased him every night to explain problems to me.
I was going to drain him completely.
Once-in-a-generation genius? Once I'd absorbed everything in that head of his, that title was mine.
I'd also kept one trick back: I always said goodnight early, making him go to sleep.
That way, I had several extra study hours on him.
After grinding away day and night, the monthly test finally arrived.
The night before, I prayed for his bad luck as usual.
Before the exam, everyone was lining up to shake Ethan's hand and soak up his genius's lucky touch.
My fist clenched. 'Why is nobody lining up for me? Just because I'm not the genius?'
Then, while everyone watched in stunned silence, I walked straight up to him.
I grabbed his hand. Both hands. While everyone else used one, I used two, making sure to absorb every last drop of his genius luck.
As we shook hands, I felt his gaze settle on my face.
I stared right back. 'What are you looking at? Everyone else gets to do this, why not me?'
When I let go, I could have sworn he lightly dragged his fingers across my palm.
I glanced up. His face was completely composed.
I kept staring. 'Just wait. When these results come out, let's see how composed you are.'
Walking into the exam hall, I found my thoughts running unusually clear.
The hard work was paying off.
The day results were posted, I rushed to the rankings board, as confident as I'd ever been.
My eyes landed on the first name.
Ethan Sherwood.
Damn it.
I looked further down, stomach tight. Second again.
I checked the scores. We were one point apart.
A classmate tried to comfort me.
"It's okay. You two are so close now. Next time you're definitely going to beat him!"
On the outside, I kept it easy. On the inside, my fist was clenched.
I glanced over. Ethan was standing nearby, as unbothered as ever.
Classmates swarmed around him.
"The genius is always the genius. Never seen you not take first."
I kept my smile in place and felt a vein throb at my temple.
"Congratulations," I said.
His gaze settled on my face, voice flat.
"Mm."
'Posturing bastard.'
I rolled my eyes internally and walked away, still fuming.
That evening, I called him on video.
I sent the message first.
Stella: I'm so mad right now!
He picked up quickly. His face was half-hidden in shadow, hard to make out.
By now, he'd gotten very good at handling my bad moods.
He smoothly peeled off his shirt, slipped on a black silk top, and looked back at the camera.
"Feeling a little better now?"
Stella: No!
That trick had stopped working on me.
He paused, then let out a quiet laugh.
"Babe, want to see a little lower?"
My breath caught. Before, he'd only ever let me see his upper half. Was he really saying...
The camera began to tilt downward.
"Satisfied with what you're seeing, babe?"
My face went instantly red, but I typed back, holding firm.
Stella: Sure, I guess.
'Oh god.'
'How would that even fit?'
Then his hand closed around himself, and a different note crept into his voice.
"Babe, it misses you so much."
Listening to that low, coaxing voice, my pulse hammered.
His breathing grew heavier as he moved.
I covered my eyes with one hand, then found myself peeking through my fingers at the screen.
Finally, he calmly reached for a tissue and cleaned his long fingers. Then he asked again.
"Satisfied with what you saw, babe?"
I couldn't hold it together anymore.
Stella: Yes! Very satisfied!
He smiled. "Good."
For the goodnight, his meaning was unmistakably loaded.
"You come to my dreams all the time, babe. I hope I can get into yours tonight."
Whether it was because of those words, I genuinely dreamed about him that night.
He pulled me into his lap, his smile dangerously soft.
"Babe, sit yourself down."
I jolted awake and rushed to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face.
I stared at my flushed reflection and cursed under my breath.
'Good looks are dangerous. Genuinely dangerous.'
Shameless man. All he ever did was lead me astray.
- Writer
