The library became their unspoken territory. A place where no one asked questions, where the chaos of campus melted away, where it was just them—and the dangerous current that lived in the quiet.
Ananya was bent over her notes, scribbling furiously, when she felt it: that prickling awareness of being watched. She didn't need to lift her head to know his gaze was on her again.
"Do you ever blink?" she asked, without looking up.
Riyan smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Not when the view's this good."
She rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth betrayed her. "You should be memorizing your part, not staring at me like—"
"Like what?" he pushed, his voice dipping lower, rougher.
Her pen stilled. She swallowed. "Like that."
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, closing the space. "Maybe I concentrate better this way."
Their eyes locked, and the silence that followed was sharper than any argument they'd ever had. Her heart hammered. His smirk faltered, softening into something more dangerous—something that made her pulse quicken in places she didn't want to admit.
To break it, she shoved her notes across to him. "Here. Read this out loud. Let's see if you actually remember anything."
He took the paper, but instead of reading, he skimmed, lips twitching. "You rewrote the entire outline."
"Because you weren't paying attention."
He chuckled, low and genuine. "God, you're bossy."
"And you're impossible."
They were close enough now that their knees brushed under the table. Neither moved away.
He tilted his head, studying her. "Tell me something, bookworm. What would it take to make you look at me the way you look at your notes?"
Her breath hitched. "Maybe if you stopped acting like every answer has to be a joke."
For a moment, the bravado slipped. His eyes flickered—vulnerable, bare, like she'd touched a nerve. Then he leaned in, voice barely above a whisper. "Careful, Ananya. You're starting to see me."
The words sent a shiver racing down her spine. She clenched her fist under the table to keep steady.
"Maybe I am," she admitted quietly, surprising herself.
The air between them shifted. Heavy. Charged.
His hand hovered above hers, not touching, but close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating. Testing, daring.
Neither spoke. Neither dared to break the fragile thread.
And in that silence, with the world outside their little corner fading away, they crossed another invisible line.
Not with a kiss. Not yet.
But with the dangerous knowledge that it was only a matter of time.