Ava barely slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him walking away.
Every time she shifted on her pillow, she felt the ghost of his breath on her skin.
Every time she tried to calm her mind, it replayed one thing:
"This isn't going away."
Of course it wasn't.
Not when her heart betrayed her every single time he got close.
Not when her body reacted before her brain did.
Not when the truth was already alive between them—
alive and dangerous.
By morning, she gave up pretending sleep would magically fix anything.
She forced herself out of bed, grabbed her clothes, and left for her 8 a.m. class.
Maybe being around other people would help.
Maybe noise would drown him out.
Maybe.
She took her seat in the middle row, pulled out her notes, and tried to look normal.
But then… he walked in.
Nicholas Wolfe.
Late, of course.
Looking like he didn't get much sleep either.
His golden hair was slightly tousled, his jaw tight like he'd been clenching it all morning, and his hoodie hung loose on his broad, muscular frame—annoyingly perfect.
He scanned the lecture hall.
And found her instantly.
She froze.
His eyes lingered… slowly… deliberately.
Not with a smirk.
Not with arrogance.
But with something she didn't know how to breathe through.
Something sharp.
Something real.
He didn't look away.
Not even when he moved down the aisle.
Not even when he took the empty seat directly behind her.
Of all places.
Her spine straightened on instinct.
She could feel him there—
close enough that his presence draped over her, warm and consuming.
The professor started talking, but Ava heard nothing.
Pens clicked.
Pages turned.
Voices whispered.
But all she felt was Nicholas staring at the back of her neck like he was memorizing it.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Fifteen.
She couldn't take it.
She turned her head slightly, whispering under her breath without looking at him:
"Stop staring at me."
His voice came quietly, close enough that she felt it against her skin.
"You didn't answer last night."
Her pulse stumbled.
He leaned forward just enough that his breath brushed the edge of her ear—not touching her, but close enough to fold her insides together.
"I asked you something," he said softly.
"And you ran."
She swallowed. "I didn't run."
"You did."
"I walked away."
"Running. Just slower."
Her fingers tightened around her pen.
"Nicholas, not here," she whispered.
"Then where?"
His tone was low, calm, but loaded.
She felt him shift, his knee brushing the back of her chair.
Her heartbeat jumped so violently she almost dropped her pen.
"Ava," he murmured, "I'm not going to pretend the kiss didn't happen."
Her breath caught.
Neither did she.
He continued, voice quiet but steady:
"And I'm sure as hell not pretending it didn't mean something."
Her back almost curved from the tension.
Nicholas didn't talk like this.
He joked.
He teased.
He provoked.
But this?
This was too honest.
Too vulnerable.
It scared her.
She finally whispered, "Can we… not talk about this right now?"
He paused.
Then—
"You've been thinking about it since it happened."
Her throat tightened.
"I haven't."
"You're lying."
She sighed sharply, turning forward again.
But she couldn't stop herself from whispering:
"Then what about you? You act like you're unaffected."
He let out a quiet, humorless breath behind her—a low scoff.
"Affected?" he murmured.
"Ava, I haven't stopped thinking about that kiss since it happened."
Her heart almost stopped.
She gripped her notebook like it was the only steady thing in the room.
"And I'm not pretending I have."
A chill ran across her skin.
"Nicholas," she whispered, "why are you saying all this?"
For the first time, his voice faltered just a little.
"Because pretending I don't want you…"
He took a slow breath.
"…is getting harder."
Everything inside her tightened.
Before she could respond, a paper slid onto her desk—his handwriting, sharp and rushed:
Meet me after class.
We need to talk.
She stared at the note, her pulse thundering.
Need to talk.
About the kiss?
About them?
About whatever this was turning into?
She wasn't sure she could handle it.
She wasn't sure she could avoid it either.
Because her heart was already moving toward the answer.
When class ended, everyone filed out quickly.
Ava didn't move.
She sat frozen, staring at the board, pretending she needed time to gather her things.
Nicholas stayed behind too.
She could feel him watching her decisions unfold.
Finally, she stood up.
Slow.
Uncertain.
But willing.
She walked toward the hallway, her nerves twisting so tightly her hands trembled.
Nicholas followed, silent but close.
When the classroom door closed behind them, he finally spoke.
"Ava… look at me."
She didn't want to.
Because she knew—
she knew—
that if she looked at him, she wouldn't be able to pretend anymore.
But she turned.
Slowly.
And the moment their eyes met, something inside her gave in.
Nicholas stepped closer.
Not touching her.
But near enough that she felt drawn into him like gravity.
"I'm not going to push you," he said quietly.
"I'm not going to force you to say anything."
Her breath shook.
"I just need you to tell me one truth."
Her lips parted.
"What truth?"
He searched her eyes.
Then:
"When I kissed you…"
his voice dropped, low and unsteady,
"…did you feel it too?"
Ava's chest tightened.
Her heartbeat stuttered.
Her lips trembled.
She opened her mouth to answer—
But the door at the end of the hallway suddenly banged open.
Ethan and Noah walked in.
Both froze.
Both saw her.
Saw Nicholas.
Saw how close they were.
Saw everything.
Nicholas tensed instantly.
Noah raised a brow. "Well, well… what do we have here?"
Ethan smirked. "Told you he was losing it over her."
Ava's stomach dropped.
Nicholas turned slightly, jaw clenching hard—
not denying it.
Not stepping away.
And that alone told her more truth than anything he could've said.
The air cracked with tension.
Ava inhaled shakily.
Nicholas looked at her again—straight into her eyes.
"Ava…" he murmured.
But she couldn't answer.
Not with three pairs of eyes on her.
Her heart was breaking itself open.
She shook her head softly.
"I… I need to go."
Then she walked past all of them—fast, breathless, overwhelmed.
Nicholas didn't stop her.
But the look in his eyes as she left?
It promised one thing:
This conversation wasn't over.
Not even close.