Maria didn’t sleep that night. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt Daniel’s lips again, heard the low rumble of his voice telling her she couldn’t deny what she felt.
By morning, she had convinced herself it was just the heat of the moment—that once they saw each other in the daylight, it would feel less intense, less dangerous. She was wrong.
She spotted him by the school’s literature block, leaning casually against the wall, talking to Emeka. The sunlight made his hair look lighter, his jaw sharper. He saw her before she could look away.
“Morning, Maria,” he called, his voice carrying across the space between them.
She hated how her chest tightened just from hearing him say her name. “Morning,” she replied, trying to sound normal.
Emeka smirked knowingly. “I’ll leave you two before the air starts sizzling.” He strolled off, whistling.
Daniel stepped closer, stopping only when there were mere inches between them. “You didn’t text me last night,” he said softly.
“I didn’t think I had to.”
“You didn’t have to,” he said, his gaze never leaving hers, “but you wanted to.”
Maria’s breath caught. “You’re too sure of yourself.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I just know what I felt last night wasn’t one-sided.” His fingers brushed against hers—light, teasing, but enough to send a shiver up her spine.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Daniel,” she warned.
His lips curved. “And yet… you’re still standing here.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but the school bell rang, saving her from answering. Daniel leaned in, his voice low. “We’re not done talking about this.”
He walked away, leaving her heart pounding in her ears and a warmth in her chest she couldn’t explain.