Chapter 6: Crossed Wires
913 Words
Chapter 6: Crossed Wires
Kael Veyra’s POV
Monday morning hit me like a freight train. I was tired, grumpy, and completely unprepared for another week of dealing with Draven Ashford and his smug, infuriating face. After that weird, tension-filled moment in the library, I’d spent the entire weekend overanalyzing everything—his smirk, his laugh, the way his eyes had lingered just a little too long on mine.
It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything.
By the time I reached the lecture hall, I’d almost convinced myself that I was imagining things. But when I walked in and saw Draven sitting in his usual spot, his eyes lighting up the moment he saw me, my heart did that stupid fluttery thing again, and all my hard-earned denial went straight out the window.
“Morning, Veyra,” he drawled, his lips curling into that familiar, cocky grin.
“Ashford,” I said, sliding into the seat beside him and doing my best to ignore the way my pulse kicked up when his knee brushed against mine under the table.
“Sleep well?” he asked, leaning closer.
“Like a baby,” I lied.
He chuckled softly, his breath warm against my ear. “Liar.”
Before I could respond, Professor Crane strode into the room, her sharp heels clicking against the floor, and the conversation mercifully ended. But even as Crane launched into her lecture on power dynamics and political theory, I could still feel Draven’s gaze on me, like a physical weight.
After class, I made a beeline for the door, hoping to escape before Draven could corner me. No such luck.
“Kael, wait up!”
I sighed and turned around, already bracing myself for whatever snarky comment he had locked and loaded. But to my surprise, Draven was grinning like he’d already won some private game.
“What?” I asked, crossing my arms.
“Relax, Veyra. Just wondering if you want to grab coffee. You know, for the project.”
I raised an eyebrow. “We already have a plan.”
“Yeah, but we could fine-tune it. Or maybe you’re scared to be seen with me.”
I rolled my eyes. “You wish.”
“Prove me wrong.”
I opened my mouth to tell him no, to remind him that we were supposed to be keeping things professional. But there was something in the challenge in his tone that made my competitive streak flare up.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
Ten minutes later, we were sitting in a corner booth at the campus café, nursing cups of overpriced coffee and pretending not to notice the way everyone was staring at us.
“So,” Draven said, stirring his coffee with a silver spoon like he had all the time in the world. “What’s our next move?”
“For the project, or for surviving this semester without killing each other?”
He grinned. “Both.”
I tapped my fingers on the table, pretending to think it over. “For the project, we need to start working on the presentation. Maybe schedule a few practice runs.”
“Done. And for the semester?”
“Try not to piss me off too much.”
“No promises.”
We fell into an easy silence, sipping our coffee and watching the rain drizzle down outside. It was... nice. Comfortable, even. And that annoyed the hell out of me.
“Why do you do it?” I asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
Draven raised an eyebrow. “Do what?”
“All the pranks. The teasing. Why do you go out of your way to annoy me?”
He leaned back in his seat, his grin widening, but there was something softer in his eyes—something he didn’t want me to see.
“Because you make it so damn easy,” he said, his tone light but his gaze lingering on me in a way that made my stomach flip.
“Seriously.”
His grin didn’t fade. If anything, it deepened, like he was enjoying some inside joke that I wasn’t in on.
“Maybe I just like seeing you worked up,” he said lazily, taking a long sip of his coffee. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re impossible.”
“Exactly.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh, scream, or throw my coffee in his face. Before I could decide, my phone buzzed on the table, and I glanced down to see a text from Livia:
Are you seriously having coffee with Draven freaking Ashford? Call me ASAP.
I sighed, shoving my phone back into my pocket. I’d deal with Livia later.
“Trouble?” Draven asked, his tone annoyingly casual, but there was a flicker of something in his expression—like he cared, even though he was trying to act like he didn’t.
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
He smirked, but for a split second, I thought I saw his gaze soften, as if he wanted to say something else. Then he leaned back, his cocky mask slipping firmly back into place.
“Well, this has been fun, Veyra,” he said, standing up and stretching in that annoyingly casual way he had. “See you around.”
“Yeah,” I said, watching him walk away and wondering, not for the first time, what the hell I’d gotten myself into.
- Writer
