Vincent Banks had never bought gourmet chocolate before.
The corner store by his apartment only sold two kinds—cheap and cheaper. But he stood in front of the glossy display in the Saint Helena food court like he was about to propose to someone through cacao. The cashier, a bored-looking guy with a septum ring, raised an eyebrow.
"You planning a date or a funeral, man?"
Vincent pointed to the darkest bar on the shelf.
"Both."
3:29 PM – Library Study Room B
Adriana was already there.
Legs crossed, hair up, her leather jacket slung carelessly over the back of her chair like it had survived a war. Her boots were on the desk.
The chemistry textbook remained unopened.
Vincent hesitated in the doorway, unsure if he was intruding or just hallucinating again.
"Cutting it close," she said without looking up. "I respect that."
He stepped inside, carefully placing the chocolate bar between them like a peace offering to a sleeping lioness.
She glanced at it. Paused.
"You didn't cheap out," she said, lips curving just slightly. "Impressive."
"You said 'or else,'" he muttered, sliding into his chair.
"I say a lot of things." Her eyes flicked up. "You listened."
He didn't know what to say to that, so he flipped the textbook open, finding the next chapter. Covalent bonds.
He'd take those over emotional ones any day.
"Alright. Last time, we talked about valence electrons," he began, pushing his voice into neutral. "Now we're moving on to how atoms share or transfer electrons—"
"Are you a robot?"
He blinked. "What?"
"You talk like a textbook," Adriana said, unwrapping the chocolate. "No offense, Professor Banks, but you make atomic attraction sound like a death sentence."
"Sorry," he muttered, rubbing his neck. "I guess I'm used to people zoning out."
"I'm not 'people,'" she said.
He risked a glance at her. She was watching him again with that same unreadable look—like she was peeling back layers he didn't even know he had.
And it wasn't just curiosity.
It was interest.
That terrified him more than anything.
"Okay," he said, voice cracking just slightly. "You want me to make bonding sexy?"
Her eyebrow lifted.
He panicked. "I mean—not sexy! Just… less sterile?"
"You know what?" she said, smirking. "Try. I dare you."
So he did.
He explained how atoms flirted with electrons, how sodium was clingy and chlorine was greedy, and how water molecules were basically in a committed throuple with polar sides. He got carried away—made jokes, even used her pen as a makeshift hydrogen atom.
And somehow, she laughed. Like, actually laughed.
It was a sound that didn't belong in this world—a soft, sudden warmth that made everything else blur out for a second.
"You're weird," she said, still smiling.
"Says the girl who threatens people over candy."
She snapped a square of chocolate and handed it to him. "Fair point."
After Tutoring
They walked out of the library together.
It wasn't planned. It just… happened.
Students passed them in slow motion, whispering as they noticed Adriana next to Vincent like it broke every social law in the school's twisted little ecosystem. One guy bumped into him deliberately and muttered "stay in your lane."
Vincent kept walking. Adriana didn't.
She turned on her heel so fast the hallway seemed to lurch.
The guy—some lacrosse player named Carter—froze as she stepped toward him.
"I didn't quite hear you," she said, smiling sweetly.
Carter looked confused. Then nervous.
"I—I said he's lucky."
"Really?" she asked. "Because I could've sworn you told him to stay in his lane. And that's funny. Since this whole school is mine."
Carter opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
"Apologize," Adriana said, stepping closer.
He swallowed. "I—I'm sorry."
Adriana didn't blink.
"To who?"
"…to Vincent."
She waited.
"I'm sorry, Vincent," Carter mumbled.
Vincent's ears burned.
Adriana nodded. "Good boy. Run along."
And Carter ran.
Vincent stared at her. "You didn't have to do that."
"Yes, I did."
He hesitated. "Why?"
Her eyes flicked to his, and something unguarded slipped through.
"Because if someone's going to ruin you, Vincent…" she said softly, "it's going to be me."
Later That Evening – Adriana's POV
She watched the city blur past from the backseat of the black car. Leo was driving, tapping the wheel in rhythm to some old Romanian rock song. Malik sat beside him, scrolling through encrypted messages on his phone.
But Adriana was miles away.
She could still hear Vincent's voice in her head—awkward, smart, trying too hard not to be seen. He had this… untouched energy about him. Like no one had ever dared to fully look.
She'd looked.
And now she couldn't stop.
"Are you listening?" Malik asked.
She blinked. "What?"
"We're being followed."
She sat up instantly. "Since when?"
"Since the school. Same car. Black Charger. Two doors. Tinted. Switched lanes with us three times."
Adriana rolled down the window. Glanced. Didn't recognize the plates.
She sat back, quiet for a moment.
Then: "Pull into the alley on Ashcroft. Let them follow."
Leo raised an eyebrow but obeyed. The car veered suddenly, headlights flashing off a rusted chain-link fence as they cut down a narrow back street.
The Charger followed.
Adriana's heart thudded. Not from fear.
From certainty.
She knew who this was.
Or rather… whose men.
The car pulled to a stop. She stepped out before her guards could object, heels clacking on the gravel.
The Charger's engine idled. Then the door opened.
A man stepped out. Thin. Pale. Scar over his temple.
He didn't speak.
Just handed her a black envelope.
Then got back in the car and drove away.
Adriana stared at it for a long time before she opened it.
Inside was a photo.
Vincent Banks.
And a single sentence scrawled beneath it:
"You're slipping. Don't get sentimental."
Vincent's POV
Vincent sat on his rooftop, hoodie pulled up, staring at the stars through light pollution. Noel had texted twice asking if he'd gotten into a fight. The rumors were spreading already—"Bogdan's new toy," someone had said in the hallway.
He didn't care.
Okay. He did.
But not in the way they thought.
He pulled out his notebook. Turned to a blank page. Scribbled something without thinking:
She looked at me like I mattered.
Like I wasn't just noise.
And he didn't know if that meant he was changing.
Or if he was already in danger.