Unbound Affection

9

It had been half an hour, and the classroom remained silent. Allen was listening to a song, his earphones plugged in his ears.

Viola looked at the teacher, who was busy with his phone. She pulled out her science book and placed it open on the table. She pushed it a little higher above the notebook and leaned on the table with a pen.

Allen hovered over her and moved closer behind her.

“Doing homework?” he asked in a low voice, his hot breath hitting the back of her ear.

Her movement halted, and the tip of the pen settled on one point for a while. She batted her eyelashes and stared at her note.

“Such a nerd,” Allen scoffed. He moved back to his chair and watched her from behind.

She continued to write, trying to on her answers, but her thoughts still drifted to the past—when Mr Smith snatched her journal from Allen. Her pen dropped, and she let out a weary sigh. Quickly, she turned.

“It’s all because of you,” she hissed.

Allen removed his wireless earphones from his ears and smacked them on the table. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.

“What did I do?” He raised his brows, no idea what she meant.

“You deserve an Oscar for your acting,” she mumbled under her breath. She believed her voice didn’t reach his ears, but it did.

He pursed his lips, arching a brow at her. Viola rolled her eyes and moved her head forward.

“My notebook!” she said with gritted teeth. Her nose flared, and the longer she watched him wear the innocent face, the more annoyed she got.

“Your notebook,” he repeated in a low voice, disappointed. He genuinely wanted to return it to her. He took a moment to think, then said, “We can get it if we work together.”

“Work together?” She moved her head back, and her lips lifted into an uneven smile. “What do you mean?”

“You will know it soon.” He shrugged.

Viola huffed, scrunching up her nose. She sent him one last deathly glare before she turned around to do her work. It seemed like the two of them were the only ones there as the teacher who was in charge of their detention never bothered to even look at them.

Allen ran his hand through his hair and bit his lower lip. Then, all of a sudden, he pulled her ponytail.

“Ouch!” Viola groaned. She peeved at the pain while he was holding in his laughter.

Slowly, he stood and pulled her hair again.

She turned around. “What do you want?” she snapped.

“What?”

“What?” Her brows creased, and all she wished now was to kick him and make that playful smirk on his face disappear.

“Allen, you are—”

“Allen?” He raised his brows, amused. He moved forward, closer this time. “It’s the first time you’ve said my name.”

Viola’s eyes widened when realisation hit her. She looked at him, and the anger she felt vanished out of nowhere.

He studied her, a gleeful grin playing on his lips.

“It sounded foreign,” he said, smiling. “Yet nice,” he added.

Heat rose in her neck, and her heart fluttered. Her brain was still processing his words. He found it nice—the way she called him—but she intended to yell at him and say he was a jerk. His grin grew, and the smirk was no longer there, as now his smile was bright and fascinating.

He moved his head even closer. “Are you blushing?” he asked, his tone chuffed.

Her lips parted and her eyes widened. She began to fiddle with her fingers and chew on her inner cheek, feeling awkward. She mentally slapped herself for falling into his trap.

“I’m not!” she snapped, turning around immediately.

Allen stared at her, and she felt his heated gaze but chose to ignore him and do her homework.

What am I doing? she asked herself.

She tried to focus on her book, but her gaze easily slipped to the person behind her. The words repeated in her head with the exact tone of his. She felt embarrassed now because she had literally gawked at her enemy a few minutes earlier, and he caught her blushing for real.

Her thoughts drifted as her brows met. She closed her eyes and waited until she heard the noise again—the footsteps of the wolf. She took a deep breath to calm herself and again paid attention to the noise that was coming from the school garden. It was from the schoolyard, where the woods were closer. She heard it, felt it, and smelt it. She smelt blood.

“Sir.” She stood, and Allen watched her curiously.

The teacher finally looked up.

“I need to use the washroom,” Viola said.

The teacher nodded and looked at his phone again.

Viola exited the room. She wandered through the corridors, the sound of her own footsteps echoing in her ears.

She stopped in her tracks when she got closer to the garden, and her body shuddered at the sight—paws moving through the long, dried grass. The chilly wind blew over the creature’s grey fur, and its low, rough, deep growl pierced her ears. The pin-drop silence would surely expose her footsteps to those sharp, pointed ears. So she untied her shoelaces, then slowly took off her shoes and stood. With the shoes hanging from her fingers, she tiptoed to a wide pillar.

She heard it close and felt its movement, but when she reached behind the wall to get a closer look, it was nowhere to be seen. She peered to the left. The wind hit her skin, and her messy ponytail brushed her cheeks. She slowly tucked the stray hair away from her face. Her body froze as she felt something large behind her. She swallowed the lump formed in her throat, and her heart thumped loudly. She jumped forward, a scream escaping her, when she felt the touch.