The air around them thickened, the kind of silence that made skin sensitive and every blink feel too loud.
Simran's breath was shallow now. She didn't move — couldn't, really — not when Zain was still leaning in like that, close enough to feel the faint heat of him, to smell the trace of warm cologne clinging to his skin.
She swallowed. Loudly.
Zain's eyes flicked down again — just for a second — to her lips, then back to her eyes. That chain around his neck shifted again with the slow rise of his chest.
"You don't blush for me," he repeated, voice still quiet. But this time, there was something heavier underneath — almost… possessive.
Simran found her voice, somehow. "Maybe you haven't earned it."
That made his jaw tick — just once — and then that smirk returned, slower, sharper.
"Is that a dare, baby girl?" he asked, voice brushing her name like velvet and smoke.
Before she could answer, he leaned in even closer — their foreheads nearly touching now — and his fingers finally, finally, brushed her thigh. Not rough. Not greedy. Just… testing.
And it worked.
She exhaled shakily, her knees brushing his under the desk, electricity zipping through her like a secret.
Just then—
The doorknob clicked.
A twist. A pause. A knock.
Zain didn't flinch. He didn't move away either. He just held her gaze like nothing else existed, like the knock wasn't real.
But Simran panicked — straightened immediately, eyes wide, cheeks now fully crimson.
Zain's smirk deepened, slow and sinful. He leaned back finally, letting the distance return with that same maddening calm.
"I'll earn it," he said under his breath, grabbing his notebook like nothing had just happened. "You just wait."
The door creaked open.
First came the shuffle of shoes, the dull murmur of a few early classmates trickling in. Then the noise swelled — a crowd of students entering in lazy groups, talking loudly, some laughing, some yawning, a few tossing their bags on desks with zero awareness of the charged air they'd just walked into.
Zain was already sprawled back in his seat like he owned the place. Simran, on the other hand, was doing her best impression of calm while trying not to look at him at all.
And then—
The classroom door creaked open mid-lecture, and for once, the professor didn't pause to scold. Maybe it was the silence that followed, or the way footsteps echoed too confidently down the aisle — but everyone turned.
And then he walked in.
Abeer.
In a plain black tee and the kind of smirk that could stir up a thunderstorm. His presence wasn't loud, but it demanded space.
Simran froze.
She didn't look directly at him, but her body betrayed her — back straightening, fingers tightening on her pen. Her heartbeat wasn't ready for this.
Abeer's eyes scanned the room lazily, until they landed on her. For a fraction of a second, something changed in his face. His smile softened.
He gave her a slight nod.
And that smile.
It wasn't a stranger's smile.
Zain noticed. Of course he did.
He'd been watching Simran all morning — the way her mood had been lighter, how she actually laughed when he teased her during roll call.
But right now? She looked like she was holding her breath.
Abeer slid into an empty seat — two rows behind them. Still in view. Still dangerous.
Zain leaned a little toward her, voice low and calm. "You know him?"
Simran didn't look at him. "Yeah."
That was it. Yeah.
Zain felt it like a punch to the gut. She hadn't even hesitated.
He turned slightly in his seat, stealing a glance back at Abeer. The guy was already leaning back like he owned the place, casually spinning his pen between his fingers. And when Zain looked, Abeer met his gaze — just for a beat — and raised an eyebrow.
Not friendly. Not curious.
Almost like… a challenge.
Zain turned back slowly, jaw tight.
This guy wasn't just new to class.
He was already known to her.
And Zain had no idea how deep that went