Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 5

Chapter 5– A Walking Problem Named Miexha

Zatariel's Point of View

I don't like eye contact.

Eye contact is dangerous. Eye contact means someone sees you. And I prefer being admired from a safe emotional distance, thank you very much.

But Miexha Verra? She looked at me like I truly mattered—like I wasn't just a blonde walking through life.

Like I could be soft, safe, worth noticing by someone like her, it's crazy, totally unhinged.

But why?!

I've only seen her about three times. Max.

She's new at the academy.

Usually wrapped in oversized pastel sweaters, bangs hiding her thick glasses, her presence like a whisper lost in the campus.

Delicate. Quiet. Suspiciously adorable.

Which means I should stay away.

Because I don't want to scare her.

I talk too much. I roast people out of reflex. One time I told a girl her perfume smelled like expired candy and she posted a three-slide Instagram rant about "men who weaponize honesty." I didn't even know that was a thing.

I don't filter. I don't brake. My mouth hits send before my brain drafts.

So yeah. Me + Soft Girl = Disaster.

And yet—

When I caught her staring at me earlier?

Everything glitched.

Dub. Dub. Dub.

My heart started thumping like it downloaded a virus.

Then she said it. Casual. No drama. Just—

"You're just good-looking... too much..."

Excuse me?

Too much? I am too much? of what? Handsomeness?

I almost folded into another dimension.

She wasn't flirting. That's the worst part.

And I—Zatariel Wov, undefeated in verbal combat—laughed and panicked at the same time, my brain turning into static.

I was supposed to say something smooth. Something devastatingly charming. A signature Zatariel line. Maybe lean in. Smirk. Ruin her life a little.

Instead?

I ran.

Full speed.

Like a corrupted NPC.

And of course the Dom twins saw everything.

Jayson and Asha. My lifelong tormentors.

They were standing there mid-sip with their overpriced iced drinks, watching me sprint away from a five-foot-flat girl in a sweater.

Jayson raised an eyebrow.

Asha winked.

Then they looked at each other.

That look said:
We just watched history.

We ended up behind the freshman building. Our emotional bunker. Where feelings go to be bullied into submission.

Asha was already sitting on the steps, sipping from her aggressively neon water bottle.

"OI!" she yelled the second I approached.
"Our sarcasm king has fallen!"