The biochemistry lab buzzed with low murmurs and the clatter of glassware. First-year students stood awkwardly in their white coats, trying to look competent while scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.
Simran stood near the center, gently tugging at the sleeves of her lab coat, the ends barely brushing her fingers. Her eyes were soft, searching—she hadn't found a partner yet. Most girls had already grabbed their besties. The boys had flocked into noisy groups of three, the usual chaos.
The professor, a strict-faced woman with rectangular glasses and a tone that could freeze a volcano, clapped her hands.
"Listen up. We're doing senior-junior mentoring today. Each fresher gets assigned a senior. You'll perform today's experiment with their guidance."
The class rippled with energy.
Simran blinked. Wait… what?
The door opened with a metallic creak.
Zain.
Senior. Tall. Lean. Hair messily tied at the back. Lab coat unbuttoned just enough to reveal his black tee underneath. That lazy smile, like he knew every damn thing in the room — especially the effect he had.
His eyes scanned the class once… twice…
And then they locked with hers.
Simran's breath caught.
He walked over slowly, like time folded for him. A couple of seniors whispered behind him, watching.
"She's the one?"
Zain smirked. "Obviously."
Without waiting for permission, he stopped right in front of her and tilted his head slightly.
"You waiting for me, baby girl?"
Simran flushed so fast her ears burned. "W-what? No—I mean—uh, I didn't have a partner."
He chuckled, low and thick. "Now you do."
He grabbed a pair of gloves from the tray and handed them to her, his fingers brushing hers just enough to send a jolt through her arm.
"You know how to measure acids, or should I just hold your hand the whole time?"
She fumbled with the gloves. "I know how… I think."
He leaned closer, breath warm near her ear. "Let's pretend you don't. Way more fun."
She stepped back so quickly she almost knocked into the sink behind. Zain laughed, wicked and amused.
"Relax," he said smoothly, setting up the burette with casual ease. "You follow my lead, yeah? Just don't blow up the lab."
She nodded wordlessly.
But her heart?
That traitor was pounding like a damn drum.
Zain watched her from the corner of his eye, smiling to himself as she nervously arranged test tubes in the rack.
Oh, he was going to enjoy this.
Inside the lab again, their table was set in the corner — away from the others. She tried focusing on the salt test, but he leaned too close whenever she reached for the dropper, fingers brushing hers deliberately.
"Hold it steady," he murmured, one hand resting lightly on her back as he guided her wrist. "You're shaking."
"I'm not," she replied again, heart beating far too fast for that to be true.
His breath touched her ear. "You're blushing."
"No, I'm not."
"Sweetheart, the thermometer's not the only thing rising here."
She blinked, her head snapping toward him.
"Focus!" she whispered, cheeks ablaze.
Zain leaned back, smirking. "I am. Entirely focused… on my experiment."
She ignored him. Or tried to.
But every move she made — every instruction he gave — carried heat. His voice dropped low when he explained reactions. His fingers brushed hers again when they passed test tubes. And when she leaned over to note results, his eyes trailed her like he was watching more than just chemistry unfold.
And maybe, he was.
Because when she glanced up again — just once — his gaze was already there.
And this time, he didn't smile.
He just watched her. Serious. Still. Like he could read every thought in her head.
It was going to be a long lab period.
And an even longer semester