We were now mere inches apart. I leaned down, my face level with hers, my eyes blazing with barely contained fury.
"You don't want to make an enemy of me, Hawke." I growled.
Lyanna swallowed hard, but her gaze remained defiant. "I'm not afraid of y...
Monday arrived with startling swiftness, and I found myself buzzing with a mix of excitement and anxiety at the prospect of seeing Mattheo.
We hadn't arranged a 'next time' after our entanglement, leaving me in a state of uncertainty about where I stood with him.
Did he even want a next time?
The question nagged at me, but it was quickly followed by another thought...Did I?
I was caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, unable to distinguish between affection and just mere physical attraction.
When we were together — tangled up in the sheets — Mattheo was surprisingly sweet and considerate.
It was a side of him I never expected to see, a stark contrast to his public persona.
His revelation that I was the first girl to stay over had caught me off guard.
It made me wonder about his past, about the experiences that had shaped him.
Why was I different?
The thought both thrilled and terrified me.
"I'm not a relationship kind of guy."
His words swirled in my mind.
But then again, did I even want a relationship?
The very idea seemed laughable given my packed schedule.
Between coursework, classes, tutoring, counselling, and control therapy for my abilities, there was barely enough time to catch my breath, let alone have a boyfriend.
I think dating Enzo made me realise I didn't want one.
God! I needed to stop being so much in my head all the time!
But the thoughts kept swirling, a tempest of confusion and desire.
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As Potions class approached, I found my knee jiggling up and down on the stool, betraying my anticipation of Mattheo's arrival.
When he finally sauntered in, he completely ignored me until he got comfortable at his station.
The casual dismissal stung more than I cared to admit.
I tried not to make it obvious that I was looking at him, stealing furtive glances to see if he showed any sign of caring about my presence.
Wait...
Where's his scar?
His skin was clear.
That didn't take away the fact each moment of indifference felt like a small rejection, and I hated myself for caring so much.
