His gaze locks onto mine, dark and unreadable. There's something in his eyes—something deep, thag i cannot name. My breath catches, and for a moment, it feels like the world has narrowed to just the two of us.
"Are you hurt?" His voice is low, smooth, yet edged with something I almost want to call concern.
I shake my head, though I'm not sure if I believe it. Physically, I'm fine. But inside? Inside, something is unraveling.
Because in that instant, as he shielded me without hesitation, as he stood between me and harm like it was instinct... I felt something stir.
A longing, and foolish, impossible hope.
Believing in love has always been a fantasy, a script written for someone else. But standing here, wrapped in the lingering warmth of his presence, I feel something dangerous.
I feel like I could fall.
---
I'm lost... completely swept away in my thoughts. My mind keeps replaying the moment he saved me, the way he moved, the way his presence wrapped around me like a shield.
"Hey, are you okay?"
His voice feels distant, like a whisper through fog. I barely register it until a light tap on my shoulder pulls me back.
I blink, heat rushing to my face. "I... I… yeah," I stammer, but the words feel weak, transparent.
He watches me, his gaze lingering, studying me with an unsettling depth. It's like he can see straight into my thoughts, straight into the confusion twisting inside me. And then... he smiles. A slow, knowing smile.
To my surprise, he acts as if nothing happened. As if he isn't hurt.
"Your back!" I gasp, snapping out of my daze. "Are you okay? You're hurt!"
Without thinking, I step forward, my hands instinctively reaching for him. I expect blood, at least some sign of injury. But when my fingers brush his back, I freeze.
It's smooth. Unbroken.
My breath catches. That's… impossible.
I was expecting torn fabric, scraped skin... something. But there's nothing. No blood, nor wound.
Shock jolts through me, my fingers hovering just above his back, needing to be sure. Just as I'm about to touch him again, he suddenly turns.
He makes a sharp breath. A low, pained sound. and his entire demeanor shifts.
I flinch. "Oh my God, I...I'm sorry!"
Panic flares in my chest as I fumble for my phone. "The hospital," I blurt, unlocking my screen. I barely have time to think before my fingers start dialing emergency services.
But before I can press the call button, his hand closes around mine.
it's warm, firm and steady.
I look up, and my breath catches. His eyes bore into mine, dark and calm, pulling me into something dangerous.
"No hospital," he says, his voice smooth and unshaken.
My heart....traitorous, reckless... begins to race again. I can feel myself slipping, falling into whatever this is, whatever pull he has over me.
I yank my hand away, stepping back to put some space between us.
"A-Are you sure?" My voice wavers. "You saved me… That must have hurt."
---
He gives me a tight smile, like he wants to say something, but before he can, the sharp, acrid scent of burnt food fills the air.
I sniff, my eyes widening. "Wait.. oh my gosh! The food!"
Spinning around, I dash toward the kitchen... only to slam my leg against the couch on the way.
"Ouch!" I yelp, stumbling but quickly steadying myself.
I do not dare look back at him as I hurry into the kitchen, too focused on salvaging what I can.
I let out a deep sigh of relief when I realize the burn isn't too bad. It's not completely ruined... just a little charred at the edges. At least it's still edible.
Scooping up a small bite, I blow on it before tasting it. The flavor isn't terrible, though the burnt part adds a slightly smoky taste. Not what I intended, but still decent. The aroma has changed a bit, but it's not unbearable.
I glance over my shoulder. Is he still there watching me?
---
Soon, i serve the food, handing him his plate. He eats slowly, barely touching his portion. I frown as I watch him... someone who claims to be starving doesn't even finish his meal, and it wasn't like I served much. Was my cooking really that bad?
Doubt creeps in, though I know better. I've been cooking since forever and I'm a certified chef.. but I do not ask him and simply clear his plate when he's done, silently wondering.
My mind drifts back to his injury. He seems perfectly fine, yet that falling debris should have done more damage. If it were me, I'd probably be in the hospital by now. I step closer, concern overtaking my hesitation.
"Are you sure you're alright? You really don't need to go to the hospital," I ask.
He barely hesitates before snapping, "I'm fine." Then, just as quickly, he shifts the topic. "What about your research work?"
I blink at the sudden change. "It isn't online...how do you expect to help?"
He leans back slightly, his eyes locked on mine. "You'll fail the course without this assignment. And the deadline is tomorrow, right?"
I sigh. "Yeah… but it can't be helped."
A playful smirk tugs at his lips as he adds, "I could help with it. But what do I get in return?" There's a teasing edge in his tone that makes me pause.
I narrow my eyes. Is he treating this as a joke? Not that it matters... he probably can't do much anyway. Still, I cross my arms. "Fine. What do you want?"
His smirk deepens. "Agree to be my slave for a month. Obey everything I say."
I blink in surprise."What...?"
"Don't you want it?" he cuts me off smoothly, raising an eyebrow. "Remember your professor? An F is waiting if you don't deliver. What's your answer?"
Ridiculous. it's Impossible. And yet, a flicker of hope sparks in me. "A month is too much. One week," I counter.
He seems to consider it, then I take the opportunity to push back, "If you don't want to, let's just forget it. An F isn't the end of the world," though the words aren't as sincere as I'd like.
His expression softens into something almost… gentle. "Deal," he says, reaching for my hand. I hook my pinky around his, sealing our agreement.
But before he can pull away, I add, "If you can't find the assignment, or if my professor isn't pleased with my work, then you'll be my slave instead."
Inside, I can't help but think, Let's see how you handle this.
---
To my surprise, I don't know how, but he starts telling me things I've never heard or seen before... stories so immersive that they seem to be the very history I was assigned to write about. He explains that this history isn't available anywhere now, even revealing why it was wiped from all platforms. I'm writing, yet I can't help feeling skeptical, though the tale is undeniably intriguing.
"Are you sure of what you're saying? Didn't you just forge this?" I ask, even though I already doubt his words. His tone is earnest, as if every detail is true... and, besides, he wouldn't really want to be my slave, would he? I press on with a more genuine question, "Then how do you know about it if you weren't even born yet?"
His reaction takes me aback. For a moment, his eyes reflect a timeless sorrow, as though he's been alive long before these events. Slowly, pushed by my questions, he confesses that he is the very subject of the story... that he was there. That's why he can narrate it so vividly, as if it all happened yesterday.
I scuff my foot and laugh at him, trying to make light of the surreal moment. "Okay, okay," I reply, teasingly. He murmurs something under his breath..."she didn't believe, though"
Then I clear my throat, urging him to continue.
Before long, our conversation winds down as the rain finally stops. Just as he's preparing to leave, my phone buzzes with a call. I see Talia's name on the screen... the one person I truly call a friend, caring and always ready to please. I answer immediately.
"Talia? What's up?" I ask.
Her voice is breathless with urgency. "I've been trying your line... it wasn't going through. And guess what? One of your course mates reached out to me. She said she's coming over to ask questions about her assignment."
My heart skips a beat. "What! Coming over?!" I blurt out in surprise, recognizing immediately who she means. My mind reels... of all people, it has to be her. The notorious course mate known for her relentless gossip and sharp tongue.
I swallow hard, glancing over at him as he lingers by the door. The playful mood from moments ago evaporates, replaced by a surge of anxious energy. I know exactly the kind of chatter that follows her around, and I can already picture the whispers that would spread if she steps into my space.
"Talia, are you sure?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. "You know... she's the one who can turn a small issue into a full-blown scandal."
There's a pause on the other end, and I can almost hear Talia's gentle reassurance through the static. "I know, but she said it's just about the assignment. I thought you should know in case you need to... prepare."
I run a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of the moment. I should be happy to have someone visit, even if it's just for academic help, but not under these circumstances. With a sigh, I murmur, "Alright, thanks, Talia."
As I hang up, I catch his eye. For a fleeting second, he seems to read my thoughts. "Everything okay?" he asks softly.
I force a smile, though my mind is racing. "Yeah, everything's fine,"
I watch him by the door, about to leave, when a chill runs down my spine. If he doesn't go now, she'll show up... and with her big mouth, the entire school will be buzzing about me on every platform. I'm sick of the endless chatter. High school bullying should be behind me, I'm in university now, not a playground for gossip. And of course, she'd never miss a chance to bring up Duvall. He's got every captivating quality... the looks, the charm... but he isn't mine though. He's just an unexpected company, a tantalizing fantasy I can't quite believe is real.
I can already hear her voice, the one who's been spreading the rumor that I'll be forever single, that nobody loves me, and that every relationship I have is doomed to crash and burn. I remember when she first whispered those things during my relationship with my ex... I feigned ignorance, even as the gossip filtered through every little group. Now, she's coming under the guise of asking about an assignment, and she's never even set foot in my place before. I have to put on a front, or else she'll have an excuse to tear me down even further.
The worst part is the way she used to hint that I was cheating with my boyfriend... though he's just an ex now... fueling the narrative of my doomed, short-lived romances. It's enough to make me want to hide.
I turn to him, desperate to signal that he needs to leave immediately, but the words catch in my throat. Instead, he seems to grasp my unspoken alarm. Without another word, he stands and moves toward the door. I'm startled by how instinctively he understands me... even if he doesn't know every thought, he's caught enough to see my urgency.
"Bye for now, good luck, my slave. Stay safe until we meet again," he says with that playful smirk as his hand reaches for the doorknob.
Before I know it, a knock sounds at the door.. dum! My heart skips a beat, I glance at him and my eyes widen in shock. I can hardly breathe as I whisper, "It's her…"
***