CHAPTER SIX - ELENA

The next morning, I arrived at the Academy, the manicured grounds feeling even more sterile than usual. My heels clicked against the pavement, but my mind was elsewhere. On him.

I hated it. Hated that my eyes betrayed me, scanning the crowd, my pulse quickening even though I knew I shouldn’t be looking for him. It was pathetic. Ridiculous.

Cameron had warned me about Noah, had told me to stay away, and yet here I was, preoccupied with the very person I was supposed to forget.

I clenched my jaw, storming down the hallway. This wasn’t obsession. It was revenge.

He had humiliated me, and unknowingly forced me to confront the ugly truths about myself. I needed to set things right. To reclaim control.

But then—God—the memory crashed into me like a tidal wave.

Last night.

The air had been thick, suffocating. I had tossed and turned beneath my silk sheets, my body restless, burning with something I didn’t want to name.

I had tried to fight it. To push him out of my head.

But Noah was everywhere.

His smirk—infuriating, sinful. His voice—low, teasing, laced with arrogance. “If you’re planning another performance, let me know in advance. I might actually enjoy the challenge.”

My stomach had clenched at the memory, a traitorous thrill shooting down my spine.

I had swallowed hard, my fingers trailing over my stomach, lower. My thighs had parted on instinct, already slick, already needy. The first slow stroke over my clit had sent a shudder through me, my breath catching.

I shouldn’t have done it. I knew that.

But when my eyes had fluttered shut, it hadn’t been my fingers.

It had been his.

Rougher. More certain. More cruel.

I had bitten my lip, stifling the small, desperate whimper that slipped out as I pushed two fingers inside myself. My back arched. My toes curled into the sheets.

It wasn’t enough.

I had imagined his weight pressing me down, his breath hot against my ear. His lips ghosting over my throat, whispering how much he loved seeing me like this—helpless, desperate, coming undone because of him.

My fingers had curled deep, a moan trembling from my lips as my hips rolled, chasing more. Chasing him.

I had seen him above me in my mind—Noah’s lips parted, his gaze heavy with something dark, something dangerous.

The pressure had built, coiling tighter and tighter until—

Oh God.

It had shattered through me, sharp and all-consuming. Pleasure wrecked me, wave after relentless wave, leaving me gasping, trembling, ruined.

I had said his name.

I was sure of it.

Noah.

And now, standing in the middle of the school hallway, heat flooded my face. My stomach clenched, panic flickering through me.

Had I said anything just now?

I swallowed hard, forcing my legs to move, to keep walking, to act like I wasn’t completely unraveling from a memory.

Because the truth was undeniable.

I had never climaxed like that before.

And it was all because of him.

I spotted him near the library, leaning against the brick wall, a book open in his hands. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his expression unreadable.

He looked different from the other students—less polished, less perfect. His clothes were simple but clean, his dark hair slightly messy, like he had run his fingers through it one too many times.

He looked... real.

I hesitated, my pulse hammering in my chest. I could turn around. Pretend I hadn't seen him.

But I didn’t.

I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and walked straight toward him.

"Noah," I said, my voice sharper than I intended.

He glanced up, his dark eyes widening slightly. Surprise flickered across his face before he masked it with something cooler, more guarded.

"Elena," he said, his tone unreadable.

"We need to talk," I insisted, tilting my chin up.

Noah closed his book, marking the page with his finger. "About what?"

I crossed my arms, trying to steady my voice. "About what happened during the presentation. You embarrassed me."

He exhaled through his nose, the ghost of a smirk curling at the edge of his lips. "I embarrassed you? Did you just think of this last night—after you apologized for trying to sabotage our project?"

Heat flared in my cheeks. "I apologized, and I expect you to do the same," I shot back. "You made me look like a fool."

"Did I?" His voice dropped lower, almost taunting. "Or did you do that all on your own?"

His words cut deeper than they should have, but I refused to let him see it. "You knew I wasn’t prepared for the presentation, yet you made me do it."

"I made you do it?" His eyebrows lifted. "Girl, you insisted. Don’t blame me for your choices, please."

I took a step closer, my anger simmering beneath my skin. Why did he always manage to get under my skin?

"You used me to make yourself look good," I accused.

Noah didn’t flinch. "You made yourself look stupid," he countered. "If that made me look good, well—that’s on you."

We stood there, neither of us backing down. The air between us crackled with something I didn’t want to name, something sharp, charged, dangerous.

My eyes roamed over his face, taking in the faint circles beneath his eyes, the quiet strength in his jaw. He was so different from Cameron. So different from anyone I had ever known.

His voice softened, pulling me back. "Why did you do it, Elena?"

I blinked. "Do what?"

"Why did you try to make me fail?"

The question hit harder than it should have.

The usual me—the girl who ruled these hallways, who always had a sharp retort ready—should have laughed in his face, insulted him just for speaking when I was speaking.

But I didn’t.

My throat felt tight. "I… I don’t know," I admitted, the words foreign on my tongue.

His gaze searched mine, and I hated how easily he saw through me. How he saw past the armor, the bravado, straight into the tangled mess of emotions I didn’t even understand myself.

"Maybe," he said, voice quiet, "maybe you should try being nicer. For your own good."

The bell rang, shattering the moment.

I exhaled sharply. "I have to go," I muttered, turning on my heel.

I had barely taken two steps when his voice stopped me.

"Elena."

I froze but didn’t turn around.

"Be good."

His voice was soft, almost teasing. Almost.

I clenched my fists and kept walking, refusing to look back.

But I felt him watching me.

And that was the most infuriating part of all.