Tell me I'm wrong

Chapter seven

She got under my skin.

Not like the others—girls whose names I didn’t remember past the night, whose perfume faded before the morning light.

Emily wasn’t perfume.

She was ink. Permanent. And I hadn’t even touched her.

Not really.

That moment in the gym—my arms around her, the sound of her heartbeat syncing with mine—I’d meant it to be a joke. Something light to cut the tension.

But it changed something.

In me.

In her.

In the space between us.

I didn’t sleep well after that night. I kept replaying the way she looked at me. Not with awe. Not like a fan. But with... frustration. Fire. As if she was mad that I existed in her life the way I did.

I liked it.

God help me, I liked that she didn’t fall at my feet. That she saw through the charm, the sarcasm, the carefully constructed distance.

And still chose to stay.

Today in class, I sat behind her.

Not by accident.

The girl in my usual seat had raised a brow. I didn’t explain.

I just needed to be close to Emily. Not to distract her. Just… to exist beside her.

She smelled like soap and soft rebellion. Like something that didn’t care to impress anyone, and somehow did anyway.

I leaned forward once. Just once.

“I liked what you said last time. About emotional instinct being stronger than logic.”

Her breath caught.

“You remembered?”

I did. Of course I did.

I remembered the way her lips curled when she challenged me. The way her voice didn’t shake when she told me I was wrong.

“I remember things that matter,” I whispered.

Then I sat back and stayed silent for the rest of the lecture.

Because if I said one more thing, I might’ve leaned closer.

I might’ve touched her again.

And once I touched her—I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop.

Back at my flat, I paced like a damn lunatic.

Jay, my best friend and occasional devil on my shoulder, threw a chip at my head.

“You’ve been acting like someone stole your car.”

“I don’t own a car.”

“Exactly. So what’s the real problem?”

I didn’t answer.

He narrowed his eyes. “Is it that freshman?”

I didn’t blink.

He laughed.

“Holy hell. You’ve finally met your match.”

“She’s nothing like the others,” I said quietly.

“Good. The others sucked.”

He wasn’t wrong. I didn’t date. I didn’t trust. I let girls kiss me because it kept them from asking questions. But I never took it further.

I couldn’t.

Because if I ever gave someone all of me—they could destroy me.

Emily doesn’t even know she’s holding the match.

But I think she’s already started a fire.