Chapter 7: The Games We Play

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If you've ever wondered what it's like to live in a perpetual state of emotional whiplash, allow me to explain: it's exhausting. One minute, I'm angry at Calitrope for stealing my first kiss, and the next, I'm hiding in a bathroom stall with her, trying to dodge the campus gossip squad while she smirks like we're in some rom-com, except she's the charming, cocky lead, and I'm the neurotic mess of a love interest.

Spoiler alert: I am the neurotic mess.

So, yeah. Things were... complicated.

But here's the thing about Calitrope: she doesn't do complicated. No, she does games. She thrives on pushing buttons, on seeing how far she can push me before I snap. And ever since the kiss (which, by the way, I'm definitely not thinking about anymore—except for, you know, constantly), she's ramped up her teasing, trying to reassert control over whatever this weird dynamic between us is.

I'll admit, at first, I fell right into her trap. I mean, how could I not? She's infuriatingly charming, with that lazy grin and those piercing green eyes that seem to know exactly how to get under my skin. She throws out casual comments, little quips designed to throw me off balance, and I—like a total idiot—react every time.

But not anymore.

I'm done playing her games.

It started the next morning, when I was sitting at my desk, trying to focus on my math homework—the math homework that I still had to help Calitrope with, mind you, because numbers and Calitrope are like oil and water. And, as expected, she was lounging on her bed, pretending to look at her textbook but really just looking for new ways to get a rise out of me.

"Hey, Vee," she called out casually, flipping a page in her book without even glancing up. "You know, I've been thinking."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Oh, here we go.

"About?"

She gave me a smirk, finally looking up from her book, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. "About us."

My heart did that stupid thing where it skipped a beat—traitor—but I kept my expression neutral, refusing to give her the satisfaction. "Oh yeah? And what profound insights have you come up with?"

Calitrope leaned back on her elbows, her gaze lazily drifting over me in that way that always makes me feel like she's studying me. "You're tense, Vee," she said, her voice soft but teasing. "I think you need to relax a little."

I raised an eyebrow, giving her a pointed look. "And what, exactly, do you suggest I do to 'relax'?"

She grinned, leaning forward slightly, her eyes glinting. "I could help you with that."

Cue the internal screaming.

Now, a few weeks ago, I probably would have blushed furiously, stammered some awkward response, and fled the room like my life depended on it. But today? No. Today was different. I was done letting her control the narrative.

I stood up from my desk, slowly walking over to where she was lounging on her bed, and stopped just a few feet in front of her. I crossed my arms, meeting her gaze head-on, refusing to back down.

"Help me relax?" I said, my voice steady, though my heart was racing. "You're the reason I'm tense, Calitrope."

She blinked, caught off guard for just a second, before that smirk returned. "Am I?"

I nodded. "Oh, yeah. You think you're so clever with all your little games, but guess what? I'm not playing anymore."

For a moment, she didn't respond. She just stared at me, her expression unreadable. And then, to my surprise, she burst out laughing. Not the low, teasing chuckle she usually gave, but a full-on laugh, like she couldn't believe what I'd just said.

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