The cafeteria was buzzing with it's usual chaos, trays clattering, conversations overlapping and the faint aroma of jollof rice and plantains lingering in the air. Azraa weaved her way through the crowd and clutching on to her tray like a shield.
She had exactly thirty minutes before the next class—thirty minutes of peace, if she was lucky. She spotted an empty table by the window, sunlight streaming across it and quickened her pace.
"Reserved"
The word hit her ears before she could even set her tray down. Azraa froze, her eyes narrowing at the tall figure, leaning casually against the seat she had been aiming for.
Of course. Xavier Sinclair
"You can't reserve cafeteria seats." She said flatly.
He slid into a chair opposite her, plunking down his tray. A nice serving of mac and cheese. "Unless you want to sit somewhere else."
Her grip tightened on her tray. She could walk away—she should walk away—but pride rooted her in her place. She sat down with deliberate calm, setting her tray between them.
"I'm not moving," she said
" Good," he replied smoothly, as if she had fallen into his plan.
For a moment, they ate in silence. Azraa stabbed her plantain with unnecessary force, pretending he wasn't there. Pretending she wasn't aware of the way he leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, watching her with a maddening half-smile.
Finally she snapped. "Why do you keep doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"Showing up, sitting next to me. Acting like—like—" she gestured vaguely with her fork.
"Like I enjoy your company?" He supplied, his eyes gleaming.
Her fork clattered onto her tray." You're impossible."
"And you are predictable." He said lightly, taking a bite of his food. "You'd never walk away, you don't back down from a challenge."
Azraa's jaw clenched. He wasn't wrong and that made it worse. "I don't back down because I don't lose."
Xavier grin widened. " Neither do I."
Their eyes locked across the table, the noise of the cafeteria fading to a distant hum. For a fleeting second, Azraa felt something shift in her chest—something that had nothing to do with the rivalry.
She tore away her gaze, stabbing at her food again. "You're wasting your time."
"Time well wasted," He murmured almost to himself
The words sent an unexpected shiver down her spine.
Before she could fire back, a group of students passed by, one of them clapping Xavier on the back. "What's up Sinclair! You ready for debate practice later?"
"Always," he said easily then glanced at Azraa." You coming?"
" I don't need practice."
" Confidence," he said approvingly,
" Dangerous, I like it."
Azraa pushed back her chair, tray in hand. "I'll see you in class, Sinclair. Try not to trip over your ego on the way."
She left without looking back, but her heart was racing. And no matter how many times she told herself it was irritation, deep down, she knew better.
But she had to focus, she was here for one thing and one thing alone and no boy was going to ruin that.
"Azraa!!" She heard a voice call from the crowd at the cafeteria. She looked around, finding the owner of the voice she smiled. It was Steven Lockhart, coming towards her with a smile spread across his face.
"Hey" she said giving him a hug when he had gotten to her. "I didn't see you class today."
"How could you,you were too busy arguing with Sinclair." He poked at her.
" So how's practice coming along?" He asked dropping his tray.
"Oh I'm good, I don't need practice." She quickly affirmed with a smile on her face.
"Isn't that overconfidence? For a philosopher, one would think you'd know better." He retorted with a smile.
"I do know better." She said dropping her tray with unnecessary force. She was starting to get irritated.
"Woah, no need to get pissed, it was just a joke." He said quickly rasing both his hands.
"I don't have time for jokes." She replied storming out of the cafeteria. Steven running after her.
"Look I'm sorry," he muttered holding onto her hands when caught up with her. "I'm on your side, I'll be cheering you on."
This made her smile. Steven was a good friend but she knew he wanted more than just a friendship. She just wasn't the right girl for him, she told herself, but oneday he'd find someone better.
"Thanks Steve," she murmured giving a soft shove at his shoulders. "I've got to go, I have class in ten minutes, can't be late." She said rushing off to the lecture hall.
After lectures, she decided to go over to the library. That was her safe haven, it was the only place she could avoid Xavier and be her true self—or was it?
The library always smelled like old books and disinfectant, the kind of smell Azraa secretly loved. It made her feel grounded, like the wisdom of centuries was just waiting for her fingers to turn the pages.
She scanned the shelves for the philosophy section. Her heart thudding when she spotted the last battered copy of Aristotle's Metaphysics. Jackpot! if she got it now, her rebuttal would be smooth.
Her hand shot out—just as another closed over the spine.
Azraa froze. Slowly she turned. Of course
Xavier stood there, looking far to pleased with himself, one eyebrow cocked like the universe had handed him another victory.
"You've got to be kidding me." She whispered.
" Ladies first?" He offered, though he didn't loosen his grip.
"I saw it first." She tugged at the book.
"And I reached it first," he countered, his smirk infuriatingly steady. "Fast hands, what can I say?"
Azraa narrowed her eyes. " You don't even like Aristotle."
"Maybe not," Xavier said leaning a little closer, his voice dropped, teasing, intimate in the hush of the library. "But I like winning."
Heat rushed to her cheeks—not from attraction, definitely not, but from sheer rage. She pulled harder but his hands held steady, warm and annoyingly solid against hers. For one ridiculous second, the thought flashed, if she leaned forward a little bit more, their shoulders would touch.
No. Absolutely not.
The book slipped, landing half in her arms and half in his. They glared at each other over the cover like rival generals in a standoff.
"You're impossible." Azraa muttered.
"Thank you," he said smoothly." I try."
A sharp shhhh! cut through the aisle. The librarian peered around the corner, frowning.
"You two—quiet down or out."
Azraa yanked the book closer, but Xavier didn't let go. Their tug-of-war would have continued if not for the librarian's glare. Reluctantly, they both loosened their grip.
"Fine," Azraa yelled. "We'll share" the word tasted like poison.
Xavier's grin widened, infuriating and wicked. "Looking forward to it."
As she stomped towards the reading table with him trailing behind. Azraa made a silent vow. If she had to spend another second with Xavier, she'd never let him see her flustered again.
Deep down, she already knew she was lying to her self.