from hate to heat

The tram rolled past the canals of Amsterdam, the morning fog still curling like lazy fingers above the water. Inside it, Rissa crossed one long leg over the other, the heel of her boot tapping to the beat of the music in her AirPods. Her curls were flawless, her nails freshly done, and her phone vibrated with notifications from Snap, Insta, and, of course, her clique’s group chat. > **Nae**: Did y’all hear we’re getting a new seating chart in English today? > **Tami**: Ugh noooo. > **Rissa**: If I end up next to a smelly boy, I’m switching schools. She smirked, pocketing her phone just as the tram pulled up to her stop. A deep breath in—cool Dutch air—and then she was off, strutting through the cobbled path like the school was a runway and she owned every inch of it. At **Amstel High**, the stone steps buzzed with drama already. A couple made out by the lockers. Someone was crying on FaceTime. Ezra—the ex she almost missed—was tossing a football with his teammates, shirt riding up just enough to tease his abs. “Hey, Riss,” he called, flashing that smug dimpled smile. She smiled back with exactly zero sincerity. “Still playing with balls, huh?” Laughter from behind her. Nae and Tami were catching up. “You’re savage,” Tami whispered, clutching her books. “Why stop now?” Rissa tossed her curls. But her mood shifted the second she stepped into **Mr. Van Dijk’s English Lit**. The room smelled like books and desperation, and there was a new seating chart projected on the board. She scanned the names and froze. **“Rissa Mackenzie - Quan Liu.”** “Who the hell is Quan?” she hissed. “That nerdy kid with the oversized hoodies and physics club trophies,” Nae whispered with a smirk. “Girl, I’d just skip class.” But Rissa didn’t skip. She strolled to her new seat in the back, slamming her bag down next to the quiet boy already scribbling in a lined notebook. Quan didn’t look up. “You gonna say hi or keep writing like I’m invisible?” Rissa said with a snort. He blinked, finally looking up. His eyes were sharp and calm. “Hi. And I figured you’d rather be invisible to me.” Oh? The sass in that tone caught her off guard. For someone with glasses and a NASA pin on his hoodie, dude had mouth. “Cute,” she muttered, flipping open her notebook with a dramatic sigh. Mr. Van Dijk launched into a passionate speech about their new project—modernizing Shakespeare’s *Much Ado About Nothing.* As he went on about “transforming hate into love,” Rissa glanced sideways. Quan was already writing bullet points. “Okay, nerd,” she whispered. “Don’t do the whole project without me.” “I wasn’t going to,” he replied coolly. “I don’t want to carry dead weight.” Dead. Weight? She looked at him like he’d just slapped her with a thesaurus. “You don’t even know me.” He shrugged. “I’ve seen enough.” After class, she stormed out before he could say another word. Her ego was bruised, her pride screaming. No guy talked to her like that. Not even Ezra, who once bought her flowers just because she threatened to leave his birthday party early. In the hallway, Nae raised a brow. “Well?” “He’s annoying. And a little too confident for someone who probably plays Dungeons & Dragons alone.” Tami giggled, but Nae just said, “Careful, girl. It’s always the quiet ones that turn out dangerous... or hot.” Rissa rolled her eyes, but that night, lying on her bed with her phone, she accidentally searched **#NerdGlowUp** on t****k. She didn’t know why. The next day, they met again in the library to work on their project. Quan was already there, of course, laptop open, books stacked like a fortress. “You take this too seriously,” she said, dropping into the seat opposite him. “Unlike you, I care about grades,” he replied without looking up. She narrowed her eyes. “Okay, what’s your problem?” “You want honesty?” “Shock me.” “You walk around like you’re untouchable, but all you do is insult people. You think that makes you strong?” He looked at her now, eyes locked. “It doesn’t impress me.” His voice was calm but sharp, like a blade wrapped in silk. Rissa felt her stomach twist. She opened her mouth, but no snark came out. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “You think you know me?” “No,” he said. “But you don’t seem to know yourself either.” It was the first time in forever someone had shut her down like that. It wasn’t cruel—it was honest. And weirdly... kind of hot. That afternoon, Rissa skipped her usual hangout to scroll through Quan’s socials. Barely any posts, just a couple of grainy photos of books, a cat, and one selfie with his little sister, both of them making weird faces. He didn’t care about likes or followers. He didn’t try to be anything but real. And for some reason, that hit harder than Ezra’s fake charm ever did. Their project meetings became frequent. In the library, in the café near school, even over FaceTime once when she pretended her Wi-Fi was “down.” She mocked his handwriting. He corrected her grammar. She teased him about his hoodies. He complimented her lipstick without flinching. Something shifted. One rainy afternoon, as they sat in the back corner of the school library, their fingers brushed over a book they reached for at the same time. “Sorry,” she said, but didn’t pull her hand back. Neither did he. “I thought you hated me,” Quan said softly. “I thought you were just a nerd,” she whispered. They stared at each other, the quiet between them louder than anything. Her breath caught. His lips parted. But before anything happened, a group of loud jocks barged in, and the moment shattered. Rissa grabbed her bag. “We’ll finish this later,” she said, walking away before he could see the heat on her cheeks. Back home, she stood in front of her mirror, still thinking about Quan’s eyes, his voice, the feel of his skin against hers—brief but electric. And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she was scared… or excited.