STATIC IN THE AIR,
I woke with my muscles sore from tossing and turning, my hoodie still smelling faintly of her vanilla under something darker, like smoke and rain. My chest wasn't just tight; it felt like a drumbeat echoing inside my ribs, every pulse reminding me she existed, and I was dangerously aware of it.
At breakfast, my brother jabbed at me, teasing, "You spacing out again? You've got that look."
I clenched my fork, trying to ignore him. It wasn't just a look it was a storm lodged in my chest that I couldn't name.
---
By mid-morning, I found her in the library, alone, sprawled across a corner table, scribbling in a notebook with a pen that caught the sunlight in tiny flashes. Her hair was loose, cascading in front of one eye, and the tilt of her head made her seem almost impossibly delicate but dangerous in the way predators can be beautiful.
When she looked up and caught my gaze, I felt a pull, subtle but undeniable. Something in her eyes told me she was aware of the effect she had, and she didn't care if I noticed. I wanted to step back. I didn't.
---
"Need help with your… uh, whatever that is?" I asked.
She smirked, a slow curling of lips that promised mischief. "It's chemistry. Maybe. Depends if you're helpful or just another distraction."
I slid into the chair next to hers, close enough that the heat from her shoulder seemed to seep into mine. Every brush of her sleeve sent sparks along my nerve endings. Every subtle tilt of her wrist, the way she leaned slightly closer to write, was a pull a dangerous magnetism I could feel even in my chest.
"You're thinking about me again," she said. Her voice was low, teasing, yet heavy.
"Am not," I replied, but my voice cracked.
"You are," she said simply. Her gaze locked on mine, deliberate. "And I like that."
I wanted to ask what she meant. But the words lodged somewhere behind my throat.
---
We worked on her lab report together, knees almost brushing, shoulders sometimes grazing. Each accidental contact felt like lightning tracing my nerves, and I realized that every time she moved, the room shifted the air thickened, the light seemed sharper, and my awareness narrowed until the rest of the library didn't exist.
A glance at her hair falling over one shoulder made my stomach twist; the faint scent of vanilla, faint smoke, lingered with every exhale she made. I was trapped in her orbit willingly.
"Raelyn," she whispered, leaning slightly closer, lips brushing the air near my ear. "Do you ever feel like someone's hiding something from you? But you can tell anyway?"
Her words made the fine hairs on my arms rise. I had no answer. I just nodded.
After school, she cornered me near the lockers. "Project at my place?" she asked, tossing me a textbook. Her fingers grazed mine. Just a brush, but it felt like an electric sting. I wanted to pull away, but my hand lingered as if tethered to hers.
---
At her house, the atmosphere was intimate, quiet, and a little dangerous. Dim light, shadows pooling in corners, incense curling through the air. She gestured me in, and every step I took seemed heavier, my chest both light and constricted, a coil of anticipation I couldn't unwind.
We knelt on the rug with our books, close enough that our elbows occasionally bumped. Each accidental touch was a pulse of heat I could feel along my skin. I could sense her awareness, a smirk when her hand lingered near mine, a tilt of her head that made my stomach clench with wanting.
---
"Raelyn," she said softly.
"Yes?" I barely breathed.
"Nothing."
It wasn't nothing. Her gaze alone was a weight pressing against me, demanding attention, pulling me toward her without words. The air between us vibrated the quiet, dangerous kind that made you aware of your own breathing, heartbeat, and how fragile the moment was. (Nope, guys, nothing happened 💔😜)
---
Later, walking home, the night air seemed thin, like it couldn't hold all the tension I carried. I replayed every glance, every brush of skin, every smirk. I couldn't tell if I was nervous, obsessed, or just completely undone. Maybe all three.
Then, from her house, a faint phone ring drifted through the window. I froze, hearing a voice I couldn't fully make out:
"No… she doesn't know yet. Don't say anything."
Something inside me flipped. I didn't know if it was about me, about someone else, or some danger I couldn't see. But I knew somehow it mattered.
"Dont think too much Rae it's clearly none of your business."
---
Lying in bed, I couldn't stop thinking about her. About the subtle power she wielded without ever touching me. About how one smirk, one glance, could make the world feel like it had narrowed down to just her. About how every sense I had sight, smell, and hearing seemed tuned only to Malvina.
I wanted her. I feared her. And I wanted her anyway.