Cleo wasn't sure what was worse—how much he liked Riz, or how obvious it was becoming.
He couldn't focus in class. Couldn't eat without thinking of Riz's stupid half-smile. Couldn't sleep without remembering the taste of his lips from the library. And now, everywhere he turned, Riz seemed to be there—smiling at someone else, leaning too close to that girl from Architecture, Bea, again. Always Bea.
Cleo kept telling himself they were just friends. Riz had said that.
But then why did it make his chest burn every time he saw them laughing like they had their own private world?
It hit a tipping point one rainy Thursday afternoon.
The library was half-empty, the sky outside draped in heavy clouds. Cleo had meant to study, but he couldn't stop replaying the moment he saw Bea rest her head on Riz's shoulder that morning in the quad.
Now, he was just pretending to read, his mind racing, jaw tight.
He didn't hear Riz approach until a soft voice broke his spiral.
"You've been avoiding me."
Cleo looked up from behind the old shelves. "Not true."
Riz raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because I waved at you in the café this morning and you looked through me like I was a ghost."
"I had things to do."
"Uh-huh."
Riz stepped closer. The quiet hum of the library seemed to vanish between them.
"Cleo, if you're mad, just say it."
Cleo snapped his book closed. "Fine. I'm mad."
"Why?"
"Because—" His voice caught. "Because you're always with her. Laughing, touching. You say she's just your friend, but it doesn't look like that. Not to me."
Riz blinked, stunned. "You're seriously jealous of Bea?"
"I don't get jealous," Cleo muttered.
Riz gave a soft, incredulous laugh. "Could've fooled me."
"She had her head on your shoulder. Who even does that unless—"
"She was crying about her breakup, Cleo."
Cleo froze.
"I was comforting her. You really think I'd mess around with someone else after everything we've—"
"You didn't tell me," Cleo cut in. "You just let me sit with it."
"I didn't know I had to give you a play-by-play of my life!"
They stared at each other, breaths short, words caught between anger and want.
Cleo's voice dropped. "I don't like the idea of you with anyone else."
Riz's expression shifted—shock giving way to something deeper. Hungrier.
"Say that again."
Cleo stepped forward, tension crackling between them. "I don't want you with anyone but me."
Then, with no more hesitation—he grabbed Riz by the collar and kissed him.
This wasn't soft. It wasn't slow.
It was fire meeting gasoline.
Riz responded instantly, hands sliding into Cleo's hair, mouth parting. They stumbled back into the shadows of the old shelves, hidden from view, bodies pressed together in fevered urgency.
Cleo's hand found Riz's waist, pulling him closer, hips aligning like they'd been waiting for this exact shape, this exact fit.
Riz gasped softly into Cleo's mouth, fingers curling in the fabric of his hoodie as the kiss deepened, heated. The space around them—the musty old shelves, the quiet hum of the library—faded into a blur, replaced by the thunder of blood in their ears and the desperate way their bodies responded to one another.
Cleo pressed Riz gently but firmly against the bookshelf behind them, his thigh sliding between Riz's legs, the pressure unmistakable. Riz's breath hitched, one hand gripping Cleo's shirt tightly at the chest, grounding himself.
"You drive me crazy," Cleo whispered against his lips. "All the time."
"Then let me," Riz said back, eyes dark and daring, "drive you even crazier."
Cleo kissed him again, slower this time but no less intense. There was something raw and new in it, like a dam finally breaking. His fingers curled into Riz's side, finding skin beneath his shirt, warm and electric.
Riz moaned softly into his mouth—and Cleo swallowed it whole.
Their bodies moved instinctively now, like gravity had stopped working and they were being pulled together by something more powerful. Cleo nuzzled against Riz's neck, pressing kisses there, breathing him in.
"We have to stop," Riz whispered, though his hands stayed exactly where they were—one at Cleo's lower back, the other gripping his shoulder.
"I know," Cleo said, lips brushing his skin. "But I don't want to."
"Neither do I."
They stood there, trembling and tangled in each other's arms, the still air of the library thick with heat, with tension, with something that felt dangerously close to falling.
Cleo's forehead rested against Riz's, both of them catching their breath like they'd just sprinted a mile. Neither wanted to move. Neither could.
"God," Cleo whispered, voice unsteady, "what are you doing to me?"
"I could ask you the same thing," Riz replied, his voice low and rough.
Cleo's fingers traced the hem of Riz's shirt. "You feel like lightning."
"And you feel like fire," Riz said, his hand brushing over Cleo's chest where his heart was pounding fast.
They stayed like that—clinging, pressed together in a forgotten corner of the world—as if they could hide there forever. No classes. No expectations. Just the two of them, burning.
Eventually, Cleo pulled back enough to look into Riz's eyes. "We can't... here."
"I know," Riz said, still breathless. "But if we leave now, I'm not letting you go back to your dorm alone."
Cleo nodded, lips brushing Riz's again for one last, lingering kiss. "Then come with me."
Riz didn't hesitate. He grabbed his bag, grabbed Cleo's hand, and didn't let go.
They left the library together—hearts racing, skin tingling, the space between them so electric that it was a miracle they didn't catch fire in the hallway.
Whatever this was, wherever it was going...
Neither of them wanted to stop it anymore.
........................................
End of Chapter Six