Lucas held my gaze as he gave a slow nod. Even though he’d seen me on screen more than once, heat still rushed to my cheeks, memories of those videos flashing behind my eyes. I bit down on my lower lip, my voice barely a whisper. “I’ve changed the rules. Look, but don’t touch. And it’s not fair—you’ve seen everything, and I’ve seen nothing of you.”
For a moment, Lucas looked utterly stunned. He stared at me, unmoving, before finally pushing himself up from the floor. Outside the old hut, a crack of thunder split the air, loud and sudden.
The storm growled above us as we watched each other, hunger plain in our eyes. We never spoke of that night to anyone. But it started a new ritual. Every night, before sleep, the chat window on my second phone became our confessional. A secret space where pent-up stress from school twisted into something darker, more desperate. We’d video call in the dark, voices low, trading frustrations for fantasies. They say the quickest way to a woman’s heart is through her… well. He hadn’t gotten there. Not physically.
Yet, somehow, I was falling. Hard. In class, we sat side-by-side, but it felt like miles stretched between us. The nights were a fever dream; the mornings were a cold splash of reality. The monthly assessments were over, and Mr. Hayes was making good on his promise to reseat us based on our scores. The air in the classroom was thick with rivalry.
I’d done well. Lucas, whose focus was always on the field and his athletic scholarship, barely glanced at his math paper. The consequence was simple: if I outranked him, we’d be separated. The internal tests were marked quickly. The reshuffle happened. I was moved to the second row, front and center. Lucas stayed rooted in the back corner, his name at the bottom of the class list.
Every day after that, I could feel the weight of his stare burning into my back. It was intense, possessive. As if he could see right through my uniform. That night, I slipped into the wooden hut as usual. The door had barely shut before his arms were around me, pulling me into a crushing embrace. His breath was hot and ragged against my ear.
Before I could utter a word, he pressed me against the wall, caging me in. I brought my hands up, palms flat against the solid warmth of his chest. “Lucas, wait.”
He stilled, but his eyes were wild, dark with want. “We need to talk. Seriously. Sit down.” Reluctantly, he released me and sank onto the old bench opposite, his gaze never leaving my face. “This… us hiding… it can’t be everything. Look at your grades. You won’t get into any decent college like this.”
He shrugged, a defiant tilt to his chin. “I’m an athlete. I don’t need math.”
“But you do!” I insisted, frustration sharpening my tone. “Your last math score was barely over two hundred. Even with a sports scholarship, that’s going to raise red flags. You could get into a Privy League school with your talent, but not if you sabotage yourself. Don’t you want that? Don’t you want more?”
He looked down, the defiant act crumbling. He suddenly seemed younger, vulnerable. An idea, reckless and impulsive, formed in my mind. “If you improve your rank in the next assessment… I’ll grant you one wish.”
His head snapped up. The sadness in his eyes vanished, replaced by a blazing, hopeful light. “Promise?”
I nodded, a sense of inevitability settling over me. “Promise.”
“I want to kiss you.”
We’d shared everything but that. I’d kept kisses off the table, guarding them as something that belonged only to real affection, to love. But as I looked into his bright, earnest eyes, my heart gave a treacherous, skipping beat. I realized, with a jolt, that I wasn’t opposed to his wish at all.
The silence between us stretched, charged and heavy, broken only by the distant rumble of the retreating storm.