During class, Paul was—much to his displeasure—paired with Jade.
"I honestly don't understand why I'm stuck with you," Paul said the moment they stood together. "This has to be some kind of joke."
Jade only smiled, slow and dreamy, as if Paul's irritation entertained him.
"Oh, relax. We're baking our first cake together. Red velvet, too… it's basically a couple's cake. Come, let's take a picture—I want to frame it and put it above my bed."
Paul blinked at him in disbelief.
"You're insane," he muttered. "I've been avoiding you all term. Why won't you leave me alone?"
Jade stepped closer—too close—and whispered,
"Because you're fun to look at when you're irritated."
Before Paul could react, Jade gently pressed a finger against his lips.
"Don't raise your voice," Jade murmured. "Your mouth is too pretty for that."
Paul flinched, jerking back immediately.
"Don't touch me," he snapped, wiping his lips. "And stop talking like that. You're a guy."
"And you're acting like that makes it less interesting," Jade replied, eyes glinting with dangerous teasing. "Careful—I might start thinking you like this."
Paul felt his ears heat, which only made him angrier.
"Let's just do this practical."
Jade obeyed, but not really.
The moment they began, Jade slid his hand over Paul's on the mixer, their fingers intertwining lightly.
When they sifted flour, Jade moved behind him, chest brushing Paul's back, breath warm on his ear.
While whisking eggs, Jade leaned so close their cheeks nearly touched.
Paul tried not to shiver—and failed.
The teacher walked by, so Paul couldn't escape. Jade knew. And he enjoyed every second.
---
After class, Paul's gang waited for Jade at the bus stop.
"Jade," one of them said with a cruel grin, "we've been waiting for you."
"For me?" Jade smiled softly. "How flattering. So… you finally want that group session you keep fantasizing about?"
They burst into laughter, but Paul knew Jade's smile too well—
that wasn't innocence.
That was bait.
"You're delusional," Paul said, but Jade only tilted his head.
"So if not that," Jade continued calmly, "why are you here?"
"Oh, he doesn't get it," another boy said. "We're here to beat you up."
"Perfect," Jade whispered, eyes lighting up in a way that made Paul tense. "I've been craving a warm-up."
The boys charged.
Jade didn't move at first. He waited—watching the first fist swing toward his face.
Then he stepped aside with elegant precision, the punch slicing through empty air.
Another came from the left.
Jade ducked, hair brushing the attacker's knuckles, and rose smoothly behind him.
A third boy grabbed his shoulder.
Jade twisted his wrist, guiding the arm in a fluid arc and flipping the boy off balance with an effortless pivot.
The movement was graceful. Controlled.
Almost sensual.
"What the hell—how is he moving like that?!"
"He's dodging everything!"
"Is he dancing?!"
Jade smiled, breathing steady, eyes bright with thrill.
"Come on," he purred. "You can do better."
One boy tried rushing him from behind.
Without looking, Jade leaned back, his body arching like a curve of silk, letting the punch fly over him.
His hand shot up, catching the boy's chin lightly—almost tenderly—before pushing him away.
"You're too stiff," Jade teased. "Relax your body… like this."
He demonstrated by slipping through two attacks like water sliding past rocks.
Punch.
Dodge.
Step.
Turn.
Every movement was sleek, precise, hypnotic.
Paul stared, heart pounding—not just from shock, but from something he didn't want to name.
After minutes of chaos, Jade stood surrounded by boys panting and holding their bruises.
"Aww," Jade said softly, "are you tired already? But I'm just warming up."
Then his smile shifted—slow, seductive, dangerous.
"Let's go another round."