Oct. 10th
7:42 a.m.
Y/ns Pov
The auditorium was quiet, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the empty seats. It was peaceful—just the way I liked it. With my hoodie pulled over my head, I stretched my legs across the seat in front of me and scrolled through my phone, waiting for my friends to arrive.
Then, footsteps.
I ignored them at first, assuming it was just some random student passing through. But when the heavy sound of sneakers stopped near the row I was sitting in, I already knew.
Treyvon.
I glanced up to see him standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, that usual smirk tugging at his lips.
Tre: "You hiding in here or something?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement.
I rolled my eyes.
Y/n: "Maybe I just like peace and quiet. Something you wouldn’t understand."
Treyvon chuckled and slid into the seat next to mine—too close, but not touching.
Tre: "You wound me, Y/n. We’re supposed to be getting along, remember? Baby project and all."
I scoffed.
Y/n: "Yeah, 'til the project’s over."
He leaned in slightly, his smirk widening.
Tre: "You make it sound like you hate spending time with me."
Y/n: "I do."
Tre: "Liar."
I turned to face him fully, ready to fire back, but before I could, he poked my side. Instinctively, I swatted his hand away, shoving his shoulder lightly. But Treyvon was faster—he caught my wrist mid-motion, gripping it just tight enough to stop me.
And that’s when I realized.
We were close.
His fingers were warm against my skin, his gaze locking onto mine. My breath hitched slightly, but I refused to let it show. His expression had shifted—still playful, but there was something else lurking beneath it. Something unspoken.
For a second, neither of us moved. Neither of us breathed.
Then, Treyvon broke the silence.
Tre: "You save my number yet?" His voice was quieter now, smoother.
I blinked, confused by the sudden shift.
Y/n: "No. Why would I?"
He tilted his head, like he was debating whether to say something or not. Then, he let go of my wrist and stood up, stretching lazily.
Tre: "Check my contact when you get the chance."
And just like that, he walked off, leaving me sitting there, my heart still racing from how close we had just been.
Frowning, I pulled out my phone and opened my contacts. I scrolled down until I found his name.
Except... it wasn’t his name.
BD.
I stared at the screen, my stomach flipping.
The initials from the notes. The ones from last week...
It was him.
Treyvon was... the culprit.
I sat there... the sound of my heartbeat filled my ears. It was almost as if the room was checking my pulse. Watching me. Waiting for me to react.
