Day two of senior year started with a lock on my desk.
Not a metaphor. An actual, physical bike lock, thick and black, looping through my chair and the leg of the desk. With a note taped to it in aggressive handwriting:
`Property of Lu Jingchen. Touch and die. – LJC`
The whole class was already there. Phones out. Recording. Tang Tang was doubled over, wheezing.
"He did this at 6:12 AM," she choked out, shoving her phone at me. Security cam screenshot on the forum: Lu Jingchen in a black hoodie, crouched by my desk, wrapping my chair like it was a hostage. Caption: `Devil King claims his territory #DeskMateSaga 2.1M views`
"Where _is_ he?" I growled, yanking the lock. It didn't budge. The desk scraped the floor.
"Basketball court," someone whispered. "Coach benched him for morning practice. Said he was 'a distraction'."
Perfect. I was the distraction now.
I stomped out, forum comments buzzing behind me. `She's gonna kill him` `No he's gonna kiss her` `Shen Xingruo fight him!`
The gym doors were open. Morning drills were over, but Lu Jingchen was still there, alone, shooting three-pointers. No teammates. Just him, the squeak of his shoes, and the _swish_ of net.
He didn't miss. Not once. Ball after ball. Mechanical. Angry.
"Unlock my chair!" I yelled from the doorway.
He didn't turn. _Swish._ Another shot. "Morning, Top Student. You're loud before 8 AM."
"I have to sit down!"
"Then sit on me." _Swish._
My face went hot. "I will report you to Coach Lin Zhao."
That made him look. He caught his basketball, tucked it under his arm, and jogged to the bleachers where his bag was. He pulled out a small key and tossed it to me without warning. I barely caught it, fumbling.
"You could've given me that in class," I said.
"Where's the fun in that?" He walked past me, close enough that his damp shirt brushed my arm. He smelled like soap, sweat, and that stupid mint gum. "You're late for tutoring. Library. Now."
"I'm not late, you locked my— ugh!" He was already gone, taking the stairs three at a time.
---
*Library, Round Two*
Lu Jingchen was waiting, feet on the table again. Two coffee cups sat between us. One black. One so sweet it could give you cavities by smell alone.
"You bought me coffee?" I said, unlocking my chair with way more force than needed. The lock clattered to the floor. Mrs. Zhou glared from her desk.
"Bought myself coffee. Didn't want yours to feel lonely." He slid the black one to me. No sugar, no milk. Exactly how I drank it. "Drink. You look like you want to murder me."
"I do want to murder you." But I took the coffee. It was perfect. Hot. Strong. "How do you know how I take it?"
He ignored me. Pulled out his math book and dropped it on the table. "Let's get this over with. I have practice after school and Coach said if I skip tutoring, he'll shave my head and donate my Ducati to the school raffle."
"He would not—"
"He would. He hates that bike more than he hates my grades." Lu Jingchen tapped the book. "Hit me."
For the next thirty minutes, he actually tried. He still complained every thirty seconds. He still doodled angry little basketballs in the margins of his notebook. He still called derivatives "dumb". But he tried. He read the question. He asked "why" twice. When he got question three right on his own, he looked up like he'd just won nationals again.
"Told you I'm smart," he said, smug, spinning his pencil.
"You guessed," I said, hiding my smile behind my cup.
"Say it. Say 'Lu Jingchen, you're smart.'"
"Never."
He leaned in, elbows on the table, voice dropping until Mrs. Zhou couldn't hear. "Say it and I'll unlock your desk tomorrow before you get here. No locks. No notes. No forum content."
I considered it. "Deal. You're… smart." The word felt weird in my mouth. Like I was feeding a stray wolf.
He grinned. Full, real, no smirk. No mocking. Just teeth and a dimple I didn't know he had. It did something stupid to my stomach. Something that had nothing to do with coffee.
The moment broke when the door burst open.
Lu Yanze stood there, basketball jersey on, numbers 1-1 stark against white. Point guard. Student council president. Lu Jingchen's stepbrother. Taller than Jingchen by half an inch and twice as cold. The "Cold Moon" to Jingchen's "Wild Wolf".
"Jingchen." Yanze's eyes swept the library, landed on me, then on the two coffees, then on my hand holding Jingchen's pencil to correct his work. His expression didn't change. "Coach wants you on court. Now. Xu Fang's team just challenged us to a practice match. They're waiting."
Lu Jingchen stood, grabbing his bag. The grin was gone. Mask back on. "Gotta go, tutor."
"Wait, we're not done— we have forty minutes left—"
He paused, then did the dumbest thing possible. He reached out and ruffled my hair like I was Shen Que, my actual little brother. "Good job today, Top Student. You only insulted me six times. New record."
My hair was definitely messed up now. I could feel it.
Lu Yanze watched the whole thing. He didn't speak until Jingchen was at the door. "Let's go. Don't keep them waiting." Then Yanze looked back at me. At my messed-up hair. At the coffee Jingchen bought. At the pencil in my hand.
"You know," Yanze said quietly, voice calm like lake water, "he doesn't buy coffee for anyone. Not even our father."
Then he was gone too, door clicking shut behind him.
Two seconds of silence. Then Tang Tang burst in like she'd been waiting outside. "THE JING BROTHERS WERE BOTH IN HERE WITH YOU?! The forum is DEAD. You're trending, Xingruo! #DeskMateTriangle is number one!"
"Get out," I mumbled, touching my hair where Lu Jingchen's hand had been. It still felt warm.
"And GU YANCHE IS POSTING CRYPTIC VIOLIN LYRICS!" She shoved her phone at me again. Sure enough, Gu Yanche's status: `Some songs are only for one person. If she can't hear it, I'll keep playing.`
I groaned and dropped my head on the table. The black coffee sloshed.
"Also," Tang Tang added, completely unhelpful, "Jiang Wanyue liked that status. And commented 'some people don't deserve the music'."
The library door opened again. I looked up, hoping it wasn't more drama.
It was Hao Zixuan, power forward, shoving a steamed bun in his mouth. "Yo, Shen Xingruo! Jingchen said you made him do math! He said if he dies, it's your fault!" He laughed, sprayed crumbs, then saw Mrs. Zhou's glare and ran out. "Tell him I said hi!"
I looked at the practice sheet. Question four was half done, in Lu Jingchen's awful handwriting. At the bottom, tiny, he'd drawn a wolf. Next to it, a question mark.
Under it, I wrote "Smart." Then crossed it out. Then wrote it again smaller.
The bell rang. I packed up, grabbed the coffees — both of them — and walked out. Xu Fang was leaning against the lockers outside, watching me. He pushed off when he saw me.
"Tell Lu Jingchen I'm ready for him anytime," Xu Fang said. "Court. Street. Doesn't matter." His eyes went to the coffee in my hand. The black one. "He's never shared before. You must be special, Top Student."
He walked away before I could answer.
Special. Right. I was special enough to get my desk locked, my hair ruffled, and three guys mad at me by 9 AM.
Senior year was going to kill me.
Or Lu Jingchen would.