Untouchable
/ˌʌnˈtʌtʃəbəl/
adjective
[more untouchable; most untouchable]
: not able to be touched: such as
a : too powerful or important to be punished, criticized, etc.
b : too good to be equaled by anyone else
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IVY'S POV
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"I DON’T CARE," I retort, my voice cold and clipped. Adrian's amused expression fades, his gaze hardening into a glare.
“You are nothing like me, so I suggest you drop the attitude, or you will regret it,” he warns.
I scoff, standing up to grab my things. It’s only been fifteen minutes, but I’ve had enough. I shove my belongings into my bag and walk out of the room without looking back, even though I can feel his stare following me.
Once I’m in the library, I find a quiet armchair at the back and slump into it, letting out a sigh of frustration. Just as I start to relax, a quiet voice breaks the silence.
“Are you okay?”
I glance up, startled, to see Sebastian—the guy with glasses from Adrian’s group. He’s watching me with a slight frown, his expression unreadable.
Forcing a smile, I reply, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
He hesitates, adjusting his glasses, almost as if he’s calculating the best way to respond. “If you were really okay, I doubt you’d be hiding in the library alone.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “Maybe… Or maybe I just like libraries.”
Sebastian nods thoughtfully but doesn’t look entirely convinced. He takes a step back, as if preparing to leave. “I’ll go if you want to be alone.”
Unexpectedly, I don’t want him to go. Despite his reserved nature, his presence is… comforting.
“No, stay,” I find myself saying.
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment before he finally asks, “Rough day?”
“Yeah,” I admit, lowering my gaze. “I’ve been assigned to sit next to Adrian for the rest of the year. It’s like torture.”
He raises an eyebrow. “So, you’re the one he ran into at the café?”
I roll my eyes. “Apparently. And he also blames me for parking in ‘his spot.’”
Sebastian chuckles softly, surprising me. “That explains a lot. Adrian’s been ranting about some mystery driver. Didn’t realize it was you.”
I smile despite myself. “Yeah, lucky me.”
He pauses, as if weighing his next words. “You’ll get through it. He’ll find something else to obsess over soon.”
“Thanks,” I say, grateful for his calm reassurance. “I’m Ivy, Ivy Collins.”
“Sebastian. Sebastian Whittaker,” he replies, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
After a beat, he glances away, as if the exchange is already stretching his comfort zone. But before he can retreat entirely, he adds, almost casually, “Some of us are grabbing lunch after class if you’re interested. You and your friends are welcome.”
