𝙁𝙊𝙍𝘽𝙄𝘿𝘿𝙀𝙉 [𝟭𝟴+]

Eleven

The days blur into one another after that encounter. I can't stop thinking about Damon, even when I'm not in his class. His gaze lingers in my mind like a whisper I can't quite shake, a presence that hangs over everything I do. I don't know if I'm intrigued or irritated, but one thing is certain: I'm not in control anymore.

I try to focus on the task at hand today, though—my Business Administration presentation. I've got it coming up, and it's crucial. No distractions. No Damon.

I step into the lecture hall, adjusting the strap of my bag and taking my usual place toward the back. I'm mentally gearing up for the presentation, already feeling the familiar nerves settle into my stomach. I don't want to look too nervous—don't want to draw attention—but of course, I'm already thinking about how Damon will be watching.

The door at the front of the room opens, and there he is. Damon. Tall, composed, the kind of guy who walks into a room and owns it without trying. His dark eyes scan the students, and when they land on me, I feel it. A subtle shift. My breath catches in my throat, and I quickly look away, focusing on the desk in front of me.

He doesn't immediately begin the lecture. Instead, there's a pause, a flicker of something in his expression, like he's savoring the moment. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible smirk, he starts speaking.

"Good afternoon, everyone," Damon's voice cuts through the low murmur of the class. "Today, we'll be discussing business strategy and the importance of clear, actionable goals. This is where things get real. Don't just think about the theory—think about how this applies to your future. How this applies to you."

His words are punctuated with a glance in my direction. I try to focus on the lecture slides behind him, but I'm aware of him watching me. It's like he's waiting for me to do something, like he knows how much I'm squirming in my seat.

Suddenly, the class falls into silence again as Damon shifts his weight, looks directly at me, and—without missing a beat—says, "Aurelia, would you care to give your thoughts on this topic?"

I freeze. Of course he calls on me. Why wouldn't he? I swallow hard, trying to calm my nerves. It's just a question. I can handle it. I stand up, my mind racing, and all the while, I can feel Damon's eyes on me, like he's measuring my every move. I try to ignore it.

"Uh," I begin, my voice a little shakier than I'd like. "Business strategy is important because it gives structure and direction to any business. Without it, you're just floating, hoping to catch the right opportunity without a plan. But with clear goals and a strategy, you can guide a company to success, even in uncertain times."

I sit down quickly, relieved that I've managed to get through it without embarrassing myself too much. But Damon isn't done with me yet.

"Interesting," he says, his voice smooth and easy, but there's a playful edge to it now. He lets the silence hang for a moment before adding, "But I'm not sure I buy it. You're not a just float kind of person, are you, Aurelia? You don't strike me as the type to be content with that. What's your real strategy?"

The question throws me off. It's deeper than the standard textbook answer I gave him, and it feels personal. There's a challenge in his tone, and it's clear he's testing me. A sharp little smirk plays at the corner of his mouth, like he's enjoying my discomfort.

I glance up at him, then back down at my notes. I can feel my cheeks heat. "I think strategy has to be adaptable," I say, trying to steady myself. "The business world is always changing, so you need to be able to adjust your plans when things don't go as expected. Sticking to one rigid strategy could be your downfall if the market shifts and you don't see it coming."

Damon nods slowly, as though impressed, but I catch the mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well said," he replies, his voice dripping with something that sounds like amusement. "But you're not just talking about business, are you? I'm guessing you've had to change your strategy a time or two in other areas of your life too."

My heart skips a beat at his words. He knows exactly what he's doing—teasing me, pushing me further into this uncomfortable corner, and yet, I can't bring myself to respond. All I want is to be invisible right now, to crawl into a hole and never come out.

But Damon's not letting me off the hook. "You know," he says casually, as though he's just making conversation, "adaptability is a key component to success. But I wonder if you've ever had to adapt to someone unexpectedly challenging your strategy." His eyes flicker over me, and that smirk never fades. "Maybe someone... who isn't afraid to call you out."

The comment feels too pointed, too personal. It's as if he's referring to something only we understand. I glance at him quickly, trying not to let my face betray me, but I can't help the rush of heat that floods my chest.

Before I can respond, he turns to the class, signaling the end of the discussion for now, but I feel like I've just been baited into something I'm not sure I'm ready for. Damon, however, seems perfectly at ease. The game, it seems, has only just begun.