By the next morning, everyone already knew.
I felt it the moment I stepped into school — the looks, the whispers, the way conversations paused when I walked past.
That's the girl.
The one sitting beside him.
She won't last.
I kept my head down and walked faster.
When I entered the classroom, my heart sank.
Lucas was already there.
Sitting in his seat. By the window. Like yesterday never happened.
I hesitated at the door.
For a brief, foolish second, I considered turning around.
But I didn't.
I walked to my seat and sat down quietly, keeping a safe distance between us.
He didn't look at me.
Didn't acknowledge me.
Didn't even breathe differently.
The silence between us was loud.
Mrs. Carter walked in and began the lesson. Pens scratched. Pages flipped. Life moved on.
Except mine didn't.
Halfway through class, my pen slipped from my fingers and rolled across the floor.
Straight to his feet.
I froze.
Please don't notice. Please don't notice.
He did.
Slowly, he bent down, picked it up… then stopped.
He looked at it.
Then at me.
Then back at the pen.
The seconds stretched painfully.
I felt every eye in the room on us.
He placed the pen on his desk.
Not mine.
"Excuse me," I whispered, barely audible. "That's my pen."
His eyes lifted.
Cold. Sharp.
"I know."
"Can I have it back?"
"No."
A few students gasped quietly.
My face burned.
"You can't just—"
"I told you yesterday," he interrupted softly, leaning closer, "don't get comfortable."
I clenched my jaw.
"I didn't ask to sit here."
"And I didn't invite you," he replied.
Mrs. Carter cleared her throat loudly. "Is there a problem?"
"No, ma'am," Lucas said smoothly, eyes never leaving mine.
I swallowed my anger and looked away.
Class dragged on, my thoughts tangled and restless. When the bell rang, I stood up quickly, reaching for my pen.
Lucas stood too.
He leaned down slightly and whispered so only I could hear.
"Stop trying."
I snapped.
"I'm not afraid of you."
That got his attention.
The class had nearly emptied when he finally turned fully toward me.
"You should be."
"Why?" I challenged. "Because you're rich? Because people whisper your name like it's a curse?"
His jaw tightened.
"You talk too much."
"And you hide too much," I shot back before I could stop myself.
Silence.
The air shifted.
For the first time, something flickered in his eyes.
Anger.
"Stay out of my life," he said quietly.
"You don't own the classroom," I replied, my voice shaking but steady. "And you don't own me."
His lips curved into a humorless smile.
"Everyone leaves," he said. "You will too."
"Maybe," I said. "But not because you scared me away."
I turned to leave.
Big mistake.
His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.
Gasps echoed around us.
I froze.
Slowly, he realized what he'd done.
His grip loosened.
For a second, his eyes looked… conflicted.
Then the door opened.
The principal stepped in.
"What is going on here?" she demanded.
Lucas released me instantly.
The entire class stared.
My wrist throbbed.
My heart pounded.
The principal's eyes moved between us.
"Lucas Blackwood," she said sharply, "my office. Now."
The room erupted into whispers.
As he walked past me, he paused.
His voice was low.
"You have no idea what you just started."
I watched him walk away, my pulse racing.
I didn't know whether to feel proud or terrified.
But one thing was certain.
Sitting beside Lucas Blackwood was no longer just uncomfortable.
It was dangerous.