Rhaine woke up with a dull ache behind her eyes, the kind that came not from lack of sleep but from too much of it in broken stretches. She remembered tossing and turning half the night, her phone lying on her desk like it had teeth, the single message from Sam replaying over and over in her head.
"Did you get home safe?"
Four words. Harmless words. Ordinary words anyone could send. And yet they had unsettled her entire being, like someone had pulled the floor out from under her. She hated how her stomach flipped every time she thought of it. She hated more the small, shameful warmth it left behind.
By the time she dragged herself into her uniform and trudged toward school, she was already rehearsing excuses in her mind—reasons why her face looked so pale, why her eyes felt heavy. She even muttered under her breath as if she needed to convince herself, It's nothing. It doesn't mean anything. She was just being nice.
But of course, Maya noticed the second she plopped down in her seat.
"Yikes," Maya whispered, leaning close with her ever-watchful grin. "What happened to you? Did you fight a ghost last night?"
Eli raised an eyebrow, setting his pen down. "Or maybe just fought with her brain. Again."
"I'm fine," Rhaine muttered, pulling her notebook from her bag with more force than necessary. "Just didn't sleep well."
Maya's grin grew mischievous. "Didn't sleep well because of who, hmm?"
Rhaine's head snapped up, her glare sharp, but the heat rising on her cheeks betrayed her immediately. "Don't start," she warned, voice low, "or I swear—"
But Maya just leaned back with a chuckle, clearly satisfied that she had struck a nerve. Eli didn't tease, but his quiet gaze lingered too long, as if he could see the words Rhaine was desperate to keep unspoken.
Before Rhaine could gather her wits, the classroom door slid open.
Sam stepped inside.
Rhaine froze, her fingers tightening around her pen until her knuckles ached. Sam's uniform was neatly pressed as always, her long dark hair tied up just enough to keep it off her face but loose enough to sway with each step. She looked around casually, greeting a classmate, before her eyes flicked toward Rhaine's row.
Rhaine swore she wasn't holding her breath, but her chest burned anyway.
Sam's lips curved—barely a smile, but enough. Enough to set her heart hammering like it had no business doing.
Maya smirked from beside her. "Well, well, look who decided to walk in like a scene from a drama."
"Shut up," Rhaine hissed, ducking her head, pretending to scribble something in her notebook even though she hadn't even opened it yet.
But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't block out Sam's presence. Every time Sam shifted in her seat, the sound of her chair moving scraped against Rhaine's nerves. Every time she laughed faintly at something a classmate said, Rhaine's chest tightened.
And then came the dagger.
The teacher entered, cleared his throat, and announced, "We'll be starting a new project today. You'll be working in pairs."
A collective groan rippled across the classroom.
Rhaine's heart stopped.
Not again. Please, not again.
The teacher began reading names off a list.
"Group one… Group two…"
Rhaine whispered furiously under her breath, "Why is it always pairs? Why can't it just be solo? Why does school love torturing us with stupid partnerships?"
Maya nudged her with a knowing smirk. "You sound paranoid. Relax. Maybe you'll get me this time."
But the universe was cruel.
"Rhaine and Sam."
The classroom noise blurred into static.
She didn't even dare to look up, but she felt the weight of Sam's glance immediately, steady and inescapable.
Maya snorted beside her, far too delighted. "Or maybe not."
Rhaine wanted to sink into the floor. She wanted to argue, to beg the teacher for a change. But that would be too obvious. Too telling. So she forced herself to stay still, her jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
Sam moved first. She rose from her seat with an easy stride, making her way toward Rhaine's desk.
"Guess it's us again," Sam said, her voice calm, warm, and far too dangerous.
Rhaine couldn't look directly at her, so she focused on her notebook instead, nodding stiffly. "Yeah. Just our luck."
Sam tilted her head, studying her reaction for a moment, before sliding into the seat beside her.
For the rest of the period, Rhaine kept her focus on the project details the teacher explained, writing notes furiously as if her life depended on it. But her concentration was fractured, split between the words on the page and the unbearable nearness of Sam beside her.
When the teacher finally dismissed them to discuss their ideas, Rhaine prayed Sam would take over, would just lay out the plan so Rhaine could nod and agree without needing to engage.
But Sam didn't.
Instead, she leaned closer, her voice low, careful. "You okay? You look… tired."
The concern in her tone sent another unwanted pang through Rhaine's chest. She tightened her grip on her pen. "I'm fine. Just… didn't sleep much."
Sam studied her for a second, then nodded. "Alright. But don't push yourself too hard."
That simple kindness nearly broke her.
Stop it. Stop being like this. Stop making me—
Rhaine cut off the thought before it could finish, shoving her attention back to the project. She listed ideas in a clipped, efficient tone, determined to build a wall of professionalism between them.
But no matter how high she tried to build that wall, Sam's presence slipped through the cracks—her voice, her calm, the faint scent of her shampoo.
And deep down, no matter how fiercely Rhaine told herself otherwise, a terrifying truth whispered louder with every passing second:
She didn't just want Sam's attention. She craved it.
And she hated herself for it.