Dangerous banter

Monday morning arrived too quickly. The slap she had delivered in the hospital still pulsed in Aria’s mind like a spark she couldn’t shake off. She told herself she didn’t care, that Damian Cole could drown in his arrogance, but the memory of his eyes locking on hers refused to fade.

On campus, the atmosphere buzzed with the lazy energy of the first day of the week. Students clustered in groups, laughter spilling into the air, sneakers scuffing against pavement. Aria hugged her books tightly to her chest and lowered her head. She wanted to melt into the crowd, to vanish into anonymity. But whispers followed her like shadows.

“That’s the girl from the hospital, right?” a voice floated behind her.

“I heard she slapped Damian Cole,” another answered, disbelief thick in his tone.

“No one slaps Damian and survives,” someone else muttered darkly.

Aria bit her lip, her pace quickening. Her heart thudded in her chest, each whisper like a dart thrown at her back. The walls of the campus suddenly felt closer, the air tighter, as though the entire school had just learned her name and pinned a target on her. She hated it. Attention was a spotlight she never asked for.

By the time she reached the lecture hall, she was desperate to disappear. But the moment she stepped inside, silence rippled through the room like a wave. Heads turned. Eyes followed her.

And she didn’t have to look to know. She felt it.

Damian Cole.

He leaned lazily against the desk in the front row, black shirt rolled to his elbows, every inch of him radiating power and danger. His friends lounged around him, laughing too loudly, trying too hard, but his gaze never wavered. His eyes locked on hers the instant she entered, pinning her in place with a stare that burned.

Aria’s throat went dry. Ignore him. Just ignore him. She forced herself up the steps, past the eyes, past the whispers, and slid into a seat near the back. She pulled her notebook from her bag, trying to steady her shaking hands.

Chairs scraped. Footsteps followed.

A shadow fell over her desk.

“Morning, Butterfly.”

Her pen froze mid-stroke. Slowly, she looked up. His smirk was calm, confident, infuriating.

“Do not call me that,” she muttered.

“I will,” Damian replied smoothly, sliding into the seat beside her as though it had always been his. “Until you give me something better than a slap to stop me.”

Her jaw tightened. “You are unbelievable.”

“Thank you.” He leaned in just enough for her to catch the faint trace of expensive cologne. “Most people call it charm.”

“Most people probably hate you.”

His grin widened. “Then you are not most people, because you didn’t hate the way I looked at you.”

Heat flared in her chest, though she tried to smother it. She shifted in her seat, inching away, but he tilted closer, as if testing how much air she needed to breathe.

“You think you know me,” she whispered.

“No.” His voice dropped low, intimate. “I want to know you. There’s a difference.”

The professor stormed in, dropping books on the desk with a thud, beginning the lecture. Students scrambled into their seats, pens poised, but Damian didn’t move his eyes from her. His attention was a weight she couldn’t shake. She scribbled into her notebook, the words blurring, her hand unsteady.

Finally, unable to take it anymore, she whispered, “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Staring. Following. Acting like this.”

His lips curved. “Because you slapped me.”

Her eyes widened. “That is why?”

“That is where it started,” Damian admitted, voice low enough only she could hear. “But now? Now I can’t get you out of my head. No one stands up to me. No one looks at me the way you do.”

She glared, heat rising in her cheeks. “You’re obsessed.”

“Correct.”

Her breath caught. He wasn’t joking. His voice was sharp, raw, carrying a truth she didn’t want to acknowledge.

When the lecture ended, Aria rushed to gather her things. She moved quickly, desperate to vanish before he cornered her again. But Damian was faster. He caught her wrist lightly, his touch firm but not cruel.

“Why are you running?” he asked softly.

“Because I don’t want to play your games.”

His eyes darkened, his tone shifting. “This isn’t a game.”

She yanked her hand free. “Then stop following me.”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “I will stop when you stop making me want more.”

Her breath hitched. For a heartbeat, their eyes locked, the air between them charged, electric. She forced herself to break it, shoving past him into the hallway.

The corridors buzzed with chatter, students throwing her side glances, whispering again. She hated it. She hated him. And yet her chest burned with something she refused to name.

By the time she reached the library, her hands trembled as she shoved her books onto a desk. She sank into the chair, heart hammering against her ribs.

“Focus,” she whispered to herself. “You survived Ethan. You can survive this.”

A voice slid into her ear from behind. “Survive me? Butterfly, you won’t have to. You’ll enjoy me.”

She spun in her chair, glaring. “Do you ever stop?”

“Not when I want something.” Damian’s eyes glinted as he slid into the seat across from her. His tone was lower now, almost dangerous. “And right now, I want you.”

Her throat tightened. “You don’t even know me.”

“Then tell me something real.”

She crossed her arms, defiant. “Fine. I think you’re arrogant, spoiled, and used to people worshipping the ground you walk on.”

He grinned. “All true.”

She blinked. “You’re not supposed to agree.”

“But you are still here talking to me.” He leaned forward across the table, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “So what does that make you, Aria?”

Her lips parted, but no words came. Because deep down, she hated that he was right. She hated that his voice, his presence, the intensity in his eyes all hooked into her no matter how much she tried to pull away.

She pushed her chair back abruptly, standing. “Stay away from me.”

His voice followed her, calm, certain, and terrifyingly sure. “I won’t.”

Students nearby had gone quiet, watching from the corners of their eyes, as though sensing a storm brewing. The air in the library thickened with tension.

Aria stormed out, her heart in chaos. She wanted to scream, to curse him, to erase his face from her memory. But even as anger blazed hot inside her, another truth curled deep in her chest like a secret she didn’t want to face.

Damian Cole was dangerous.

And she wasn’t sure if she wanted to escape him.