Chapter 7 - The Girls Jealousy & Class Room Intense Romance
2000 Words
( Elena POV )
His gaze didn’t just look at me — it claimed me.
There was a strange pull between us, like an invisible thread tightening every time our eyes met.
I didn’t understand why, but whenever I looked into his eyes, something inside me moved toward him — willingly, foolishly… inevitably.
We weren’t just staring.
We were colliding.
Our eyes locked, and the world around us dissolved into silence.
It felt dangerous — intoxicating — like standing on the edge of something I shouldn’t want but couldn’t walk away from.
In his eyes, I saw it.
Possession.
Dark, unapologetic possession.
“You’re mine,” his gaze said — without words, without permission.
I wanted to deny it.
I told myself I wouldn’t let him have that power over me.
But my heart?
My heart was already choosing him…
before my mind even understood what was happening.
Suddenly — a shout breaks the moment.
A group of girls stands near the gate of Crescent High, one of them glaring like she wants to burn me alive.
Hailey King.
Cheer captain. Adrian’s rumored hookup.
She crosses her arms, her expression sour.
“Adrian,” she says, loud enough for everyone to hear, “why are you walking with the new girl?”
I step back.
Adrian doesn’t.
He moves closer to me instead.
“Because I want to.”
Hailey scoffs. “You don’t walk girls to school. You don’t even text them back.”
“I know,” he says coldly.
“Then why her?”
Adrian's jaw flexes.
And then he does the unthinkable.
He places his hand on the small of my back — protective, possessive — sending a shock through my entire body.
“You’ll figure it out,” he says to Hailey.
He guides me through the gates with that same touch, ignoring every pair of eyes watching us.
Some girls whisper. Some glare.
Someone mutters, “Who does she think she is?”
Adrian hears it. His head snaps toward the voice, eyes dark.
They shut up instantly.
We walk into the building.
He doesn’t remove his hand.
And I don’t tell him to.
---
FIRST PERIOD — English
I slip into a seat, my pulse still chaotic.
Just as I take out my notebook, a slip of paper lands on my desk.
His handwriting.
You can run from everyone else.
I look up.
Adrian is across the room, leaning back in his chair, watching me like he can read my every thought.
Then I read the next line.
But you can’t run from me.
Oh God.
The moment his eyes flicked toward me, panic rushed through my veins like wildfire.
Without thinking, I hold the slip of paper and slapped it against my face, crouching lower beneath the desk.
My cheeks were burning—hot, humiliating, impossible to hide. It felt like every pulse of my heartbeat had turned into a neon sign screaming I noticed him.
I curled into myself, praying the desk would magically swallow me whole.
I couldn’t let Adrian see me like this.
Not with my face betraying the storm inside.
Not when he looked at me as if he could read every secret I didn’t know how to hide.
A soft breath of air stirred near me—warm, close.
Before I could gather the courage to lift my head, long fingers curled around the edge of the slip I was using as a shield.
Adrian didn’t tug it away immediately.
He just held it… waiting.
“I can still see you,” he murmured, voice low and threaded with amusement.
My heart stuttered.
Slowly, deliberately, he lowered the paper from my face. His fingers brushed against mine—light, but enough to send sparks racing up my skin.
I swallowed hard and stared at the floor, desperate not to meet his eyes.
“Are you hiding from someone…”
He leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper near my ear,
“or from me?”
His tone was teasing, yet there was something deeper beneath it—something dark and dangerous, like a secret he wasn’t ready to name.
I finally dared to look at him.
Adrian was already watching me.
Not casually.
Not accidentally.
His gaze held me captive like I was the only thing that mattered in the entire room.
My voice came out broken and too small.
“I—I wasn’t hiding.”
His lips curved into a smirk that made my knees forget how to function.
“No?” he asked softly. “Then why are you this red?”
His thumb gently brushed my burning cheek.
And in that single touch, I realized something terrifying
Adrian wasn’t just aware of the effect he had on me.
He enjoyed it.
His thumb lingered against my cheek longer than necessary.
Too long.
“Adrian…” I whispered, meaning it as a warning or maybe a plea.
I wasn’t sure anymore.
He leaned closer, so close I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. His presence wrapped around me like gravity, like there was no world outside this tiny corner under the desk.
“You know,” he murmured, voice rough and velvet-smooth,
“you shouldn’t look at me like that… if you don’t want me to react.”
My stomach dropped.
“I wasn’t—”
“You were,” he cut in, eyes flicking briefly to my lips.
“Trying to hide it won’t change anything.”
He tilted his head, studying me as if I were the most complicated secret he’d ever tried to solve.
Then footsteps echoed outside the classroom.
He didn’t move away.
Instead, his hand slipped to the side of my chair, caging me in without touching.
“Adrian someone’s coming,” I whispered urgently.
“I know.”
His voice dropped to a whisper, possessive and unshakeably calm.
“But I’m not done yet.”
The footsteps came closer voices laughing, keys clinking.
Any second, someone would walk in.
Panic flashed in my chest.
I tried to push him back, but his hand caught mine mid-air.
“No,” he whispered, eyes darkening.
“You don’t get to hide from me.”
My breath hitched.
He slowly released my hand… not because he wanted to let go.
But because he wanted me to know
that he chose to.
Just then, the door handle rattled.
Adrian leaned in—just inches from my lips—so quietly only I could hear:
“After class… we’re finishing this.”
The door swung open.
He quietly went and sat on his seat, as if nothing had happened at all.
Only I knew better.
Because my heartbeat was still trapped where his touch had been.
The door banged against the stopper, jolting the entire room into motion.
Students poured in—laughing, shoving, complaining about homework—but all I could hear was the echo of his voice:
After class… we’re finishing this.
My pulse was still wild, my skin still burning where his thumb had touched me.
I forced myself upright, trying to look composed, normal—unaffected.
The rest of first period feels like sitting under a spotlight.
Every time I glance up, Adrian is watching me.
Not subtly.
Not discreetly.
Watching me like I’m the only thing that exists in the whole damn room.
At one point, I catch him leaning forward, forearms braced on his desk, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on me like he’s fighting something inside himself. The intensity makes me look away, cheeks burning.
By the time the bell rings, my nerves are on fire.
I gather my books quickly, wanting space — air — anything that isn’t him.
But the moment I step into the hallway—
Someone slams into me.
My books scatter everywhere.
I freeze.
Hailey King stands in front of me, arms crossed, chin tilted like a challenge. Two of her friends flank her, wearing matching expressions of fake pity and real hatred.
“Oh, sorry,” Hailey says, voice dripping with venom. “Didn’t see you.”
Right.
And wolves don’t howl at the moon.
I kneel to gather my books, refusing to engage, but Hailey crouches too — and grabs my wrist. Hard.
“You don’t get to show up out of nowhere and cling to him,” she whispers. “Adrian is not interested in girls like you.”
That hurts. More than I want to admit.
“Girls like me?” I echo quietly.
“Quiet. Forgettable.” She smirks. “Pathetic.”
I swallow the sting.
“My relationship with Adrian is none of your—”
Hailey laughs, sharp and cruel. “Relationship? Sweetheart, Adrian doesn’t do relationships.”
Her friends snicker.
“We’re just looking out for you,” one of them says. “He’s just being nice because you’re new.”
“And because he pities you,” the other adds.
She leaned in, fake-sweet smile painted on her lips.
“So,” she said loudly, “how much are you paying him?”
I blinked. “What?”
“For attention.”
She let out a laugh that wasn’t really a laugh. “Because Adrian doesn’t do girlfriends. He doesn’t even do repeating names.”
I stiffened. “I’m not—”
“Oh please.” She waved her hand dismissively.
“You think because he walked you to class and stared at you like a lost puppy that it means anything?”
Her voice sharpened.
“It doesn’t.”
I straighten, clutching my books.
“Move.”
Hailey leans closer, nails digging into my wrist.
“I’m warning you. Back. Off.”
Before I can react—
A voice behind Hailey slices through the hallway like a blade.
“Take your hands off her.”
The air shifts.
Students around us look up.
Adrian stands only a few steps away, expression calm — too calm — eyes cold enough to freeze blood.
Hailey flinches and releases me instantly.
“Oh—Adrian, I was just—”
“I don’t care what you were doing,” he says softly.
That softness is the threat.
He steps closer.
Too close.
“If you touch her again…”
His jaw tenses, teeth clenched.
“…you’ll regret it.”
The hallway goes silent.
Hailey’s bravado cracks. Her lip trembles. “Wh-why are you defending her?”
Adrian’s eyes shift — not grey, not brown gold.
Just for a second.
Then gone.
He drops his voice.
“She’s mine.”
My breath stops.
Hailey chokes on a gasp.
“She—she’s your—?”
“Walk away,” he says without looking at her again.
Hailey stared at us like she’d just witnessed her throne being taken.
“You’re ruining your reputation for her,” she snapped.
Adrian met her eyes, calm and deadly.
“My reputation is none of your business.”
Then he glanced at me.
“But she is.”
Hailey stood frozen for two seconds -
They scatter.
The second they disappear, I yank my wrist away.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I snap.
His eyes lock onto mine. “Yes, I did.”
“No,” I whisper. “You made it worse.”
“You think I care what they think?”
“You should,” I argue. “Because I don’t want this attention!”
He steps closer, eyes burning.
“And I don’t want anyone touching what’s mine.”
My pulse stutters. “Stop calling me that.”
He leans in, breath brushing my ear.
“Then stop acting like you aren’t.”
I step back, because I have to. Because if I don’t, I’ll do something stupid—like kiss him.
“I’m not yours,” I breathe.
His smile is dark.
“You keep saying that.”
He walks past me, brushing my hand — deliberately — as he whispers:
“But your heartbeat says otherwise.”
- Writer
