The morning air was crisp as I stepped onto the school grounds.
I tried to tell myself: Today, I will not let him get under my skin. I will focus on my work. I will ignore him.
Of course, my own pep talk was laughable.
Adrian was already there, leaning against the gate, perfectly casual, dark eyes scanning the crowd. And as usual… he spotted me immediately.
"Well, well," he said, voice carrying just enough to make me freeze. "The brilliant Chelsea, looking sharp as ever."
I clenched my jaw. "I'm not here for you."
He smirked, the corner of his lips twitching. Oh, she's mad already. Perfect, I thought, watching her tighten her backpack straps and bite her lip.
First period was lab again. Naturally, we were paired. Naturally, he leaned casually close under the pretense of reaching for the microscope. Naturally, our knees brushed.
I flinched.
She notices, I thought, suppressing a grin. Perfect reaction. She hates me. And yet… she can't stop noticing.
I leaned slightly closer, brushing his hand against hers "accidentally" as I adjusted my notebook. Her fingers twitched, and she glared daggers at me. Yes, exactly like that, I thought.
"Careful," I whispered softly, voice teasing, "or you'll break your perfect reputation by being… distracted."
"I am not distracted," she snapped, but the flush rising in her cheeks betrayed her.
I leaned closer, close enough that our shoulders touched under the table. "Not yet," I murmured. "But soon… maybe you will be."
Her jaw tightened. "You're impossible," she hissed.
"And yet… you're still here," I said softly, watching her hands clench into fists around her pen.
During lunch, the library offered a chance to escape the bustling courtyard. I walked beside her, casual, confident, my hand brushing hers deliberately as we passed the tables.
She hates this. She's seething. And yet… she can't leave me alone. She's perfect for teasing, I thought, smirking internally.
"Chelsea," I said quietly, leaning closer under the pretense of showing her the diagram, "you're tense. Relax. It's just a project."
"I am not tense," she snapped, glaring at me.
"Sure," I whispered, letting my fingers brush hers again as I pointed at the diagram. Her body stiffened. Exactly like that, I thought.
Later, the school bell rang, but I had other plans.
"Walk me to the cafeteria," I said casually, knowing she wouldn't be able to refuse.
Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"Because I enjoy watching you try not to hate me," I said softly.
Her jaw tightened, and she shoved past me, but I kept pace, letting our shoulders brush again. Her heartbeat was loud in her chest, and I could sense her tension, her frustration, and… something else.
I smiled inwardly. This is going exactly as I want.
At the cafeteria, I spotted a girl from our class the same one Chelsea had seen me flirt with yesterday. She waved, and I walked toward her casually, leaning in just enough to whisper something playful.
Chelsea's eyes narrowed. Her hands gripped her tray so tightly, I could see the strain in her fingers.
Perfect, I thought. Let's see how much more I can get her to react.
I turned slightly, letting my shoulder brush hers "by accident." Her cheeks flamed red.
"Stop touching me," she hissed.
"Can't help it," I said softly, watching the fire in her eyes. "You're… interesting when you're angry."
She groaned in frustration and stalked toward an empty table. I followed casually, letting my presence loom near her, close enough that she could feel me but not escape.
By third period, the project demanded we work in the computer lab. I leaned over her shoulder, just enough for my arm to brush hers while pointing at the screen.
Her pen slipped. "Careful!" she snapped, slamming it down.
I smirked. "I am careful. You're just… tense."
"I am not tense!" she yelled, though her voice wavered slightly.
"Sure," I whispered, leaning just a little closer. "I can feel your pulse. You're lying to yourself, Chelsea."
Her face burned crimson. I felt a thrill run through me. She's beautiful when she's flustered. Damn it.
After school, as we walked home together for the first time since yesterday's incident, the tension was unbearable.
"You know," I said casually, leaning slightly closer under the pretense of adjusting my backpack strap, "we make a great team. Even if you don't like me."
"I do not like you," she snapped, glaring.
"Not yet," I whispered, voice low, letting our arms brush. Her stomach twisted visibly.
I could see the frustration in her eyes, the blush creeping over her cheeks, the way she bit her lip to suppress her reaction.
She's perfect, I thought. So angry, so beautiful, so tense. I'm going to enjoy this game… for a long time.
Later, as she left for her room, I followed quietly, lingering in the hallway just long enough to let her hear me.
"You can't escape me, Chelsea," I murmured softly. "Not at school, not at home. I'm everywhere. And you're… going to notice me whether you like it or not."
Her hands tightened on her bag, jaw clenched. Her eyes burned with a mixture of anger, frustration, and something else I couldn't quite name.
And I knew… I had won, for now.
That night, I lay in bed, thinking about her. Chelsea.
She was infuriating. She was brilliant. She was stubborn. And she reacted to me in ways no one else did.
I smirked. This is going to be fun. Very fun.
And maybe… just maybe, I thought, she's not going to hate me forever.