Sara hated Fridays. Not the "end of the week" kind, but the "stuck in detention with Leo Carmichael" kind.
She arrived at Room 207 with her usual precision: uniform neat, hair tamed, backpack organized, and an attitude that screamed don't mess with me. She wanted to stake out a corner, preferably the one farthest from him.
Of course, Leo had other ideas.
He leaned casually against the wall, smirking as if he owned the room, hair falling perfectly over his forehead. "Well, well, look who's punctual. I was beginning to think you'd chicken out."
"I'm not punctual for you," Sara shot back, dropping her backpack onto the nearest desk and setting her books with military precision. "I'm punctual for myself. Big difference."
Leo laughed, a sound that made her jaw tighten. "Sure, sweetheart. Whatever helps you sleep at night."
Sara rolled her eyes. Why did he have to say that smirkingly?
---
The first fifteen minutes of detention were a tense silence, broken only by the scratching of pens and the occasional sigh from Sara as she tried to do her calculus homework. Leo, of course, made it impossible.
He stretched his legs, leaned back in the chair, and occasionally flicked a pencil toward her desk. Each time, Sara flinched, scowled, and went back to her work.
"Do you always sit like that?" she asked, exasperated.
Leo looked surprised, then grinned. "Like what?"
"Like you're trying to annoy everyone in the room. It's… impressive, really."
"Ah, so it's working then," he said.
Sara groaned, pressing her forehead to the corner of the desk. Why was he so irritating?
---
Halfway through detention, a silence fell. Leo was doodling on a scrap sheet of paper, and Sara couldn't help but glance at it.
"What's that?" she asked, pointing.
He held it up, showing a stick figure drawing of a girl being chased by a giant pencil. "You. Obviously."
Sara blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You're obsessed with perfection," he said casually. "I figured this was a fair representation."
Her cheeks flushed. "I… I'm not obsessed."
"Sure," he said, smirking.
Sara tried to focus on her homework, but every time she looked up, he was watching her, leaning slightly forward in a posture that was not quite relaxed, not quite teasing—but dangerous.
---
Then came the accident.
Sara reached for a pen, and it slipped from her hand. As she bent to pick it up, Leo's hand swooped in—again—brushing hers.
"You're hopeless with pencils," he teased.
"I can manage perfectly well!" she said, snatching the pen.
"You sure about that?" he asked, leaning closer this time.
Sara's heart raced. She felt heat rise to her cheeks, but she refused to let him see it. "Positive."
Leo leaned back, pretending to be casual, but his smirk betrayed that he knew exactly what he was doing.
---
By the halfway mark, something strange happened. Sara realized that the longer she sat there, the less she hated him. Not that she'd ever admit it, of course. But she caught herself laughing silently at one of his ridiculous jokes, and when he smirked at her sarcastic retort, her chest felt… lighter.
Leo noticed too. "You're smiling," he said casually, like it was the most normal observation in the world.
"I am not smiling," she said quickly.
"Yes, you are," he replied, voice low enough that it almost sounded like a challenge.
Sara's pencil dropped again, this time from nerves. Leo picked it up and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed lightly, and she almost—almost—didn't pull away fast enough.
---
Time slowed.
Detention was supposed to be boring, a punishment. But in that small classroom, surrounded by sunlight streaming through the windows and the faint scent of old books, it felt… different.
Every glance, every small accidental touch, every sarcastic comment carried an unspoken question: What if we weren't enemies?
Sara shivered, trying to focus on her notebook. She wrote down the next calculus equation, but her handwriting wobbled slightly. She could feel him watching, and the tension between them shifted from irritation to something else—something more dangerous, more exciting.
Leo, for his part, was clearly enjoying the effect. He leaned casually on the desk edge, smirking, teasing just enough to keep her flustered.
"You're unusually quiet," he said after a while. "It's… unnerving."
"I'm concentrating," she said firmly, though her cheeks betrayed her.
He chuckled softly. "Sure, concentrating. I get it."
---
By the end of detention, Sara realized three things:
1. She hated how much she noticed him.
2. He wasn't just infuriating; he was… complicated.
3. Friday afternoons might just become her favorite time of the week.
As she packed up her things, Leo leaned closer and whispered, "See you tomorrow?"
Sara froze. "Tomorrow? We have other classes."
"I meant… around," he said casually, with that infuriating smirk.
Sara rolled her eyes but felt her stomach flip. "Yeah. Around."
She walked out of Room 207, heart racing, mind buzzing, and a tiny, guilty smile tugged at her lips.
Enemies today… maybe something else tomorrow.
And for the first time, Sara didn't hate the thought.