THE BOY I WAS SENT TO DESTROY

6.

Chapter 6: Care

Zane POV

I pushed through the library doors after last period and spotted them right away. Priya sat next to Zara at our usual back table, her backpack dumped on the floor and her notebook open between them. My sister was talking fast, pointing at a page and laughing at something Zara said. Zara leaned in, listening like she had all the time in the world, her pen tapping lightly on the table. No fake interest. No trying to score points. Just real.

I stayed behind the tall shelf for a second and watched. Priya did not open up to people. She had learned early what money did to friendships. But here she was, shoulder to shoulder with the girl I had spent weeks trying to run out of school. Zara nodded at whatever Priya asked and answered in that steady voice of hers. My chest pulled tight. I did not like it.

I stepped out and walked over. Priya looked up first. “Zane! Zara helped me figure out my whole history timeline. She makes it make sense.”

Zara glanced at me. Calm. “Hey.”

“Priya, beat it,” I said. “We have work.”

Priya rolled her eyes but gave Zara a quick hug. “Library again tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Zara said, smiling small.

Once Priya bounced off I dropped into my chair. “You two best friends now?”

Zara opened the textbook. “She is cool. Smart. Asks good questions.”

I did not answer. The fact that Priya liked her sat wrong in my gut. Most people sucked up to my sister because of the last name. Zara just talked to her like a person. I hated how much I noticed that.

We started on the problems. This was our third session. She had not let up once. Every time I messed up she pointed it out flat and waited for me to fix it. I actually showed up now. The car and the cards were on the line, sure, but that was not the whole reason anymore. I kept coming back because something about sitting across from her felt like a fight I did not want to lose.

Halfway through a word problem I got stuck. Zara leaned over to show me the step. Her arm brushed mine. Warm skin, soft. I pulled back but the feeling stayed on me. She wore the same uniform as everyone else but it looked different on her. The way the skirt sat on her thighs when she shifted in the chair. The way her shirt pulled across her chest when she reached. I kept my eyes on the paper but my head was not on math.

“You see where you went wrong?” she asked.

I fixed it. “Yeah.”

She sat back. “Good. Next one.”

I worked but my mind kept drifting. She never performed. Not once. Other girls at Blackwell smiled big or played shy or tried to touch my arm to get my attention. Zara just sat there and taught. No games. No bullshit. It made the rest of the school look fake.

Marcus walked by near the end of the hour. He stopped at the table with that easy grin of his. “Zara. You free after this? I have a paper due and I suck at conclusions.”

She looked at him. “Busy.”

Marcus glanced at me, then back at her. “Shame. Catch you tomorrow maybe.” He tapped the table once and left.

I watched him go. The way he looked at her was not just to mess with me anymore. I knew that look. I felt my jaw tighten.

Zara closed her notebook. “He does that a lot?”

“Marcus does what he wants,” I said.

She packed her stuff without comment. I watched her hands move. Steady. No rush even after everything I had put her through. The yogurt on her chair yesterday. The picture taped to her locker this morning. None of it touched her in front of me. She just kept showing up.

The question had been building for days. Why the hell was she here? Taking the s**t, fixing my grades, talking to my sister like it was normal. It did not add up. No one did anything at Blackwell without wanting something back.

She stood and slung her bag over her shoulder.

I reached out and caught her wrist. Not tight. Just enough to stop her. Her pulse beat under my fingers, steady and warm.

“Why the hell do you even care if I pass or fail? What’s really in it for you?”