CHAPTER FOUR

ARIA

The bell rang, and I was already halfway down the hall, clutching my books and heading for my tutorial class. After a long day of lectures, the last thing I needed was another interruption. But of course, fate—or rather, Adrian Cole—had other plans.

“Going somewhere, Bookie?”

I stopped dead. Only one person had that ridiculous nickname for me.

“It’s Aria,” I snapped. “Stop calling me that.”

He only smirked, leaning against the locker like he’d been waiting all along. “You’re Bookie to me.”

Phone spinning lazily between his fingers, shirt slightly untucked, that careless grin plastered on his face—Adrian Cole in all his infuriating glory.

“It’s time for my tutoring session,” he said smoothly. “You didn’t forget, did you?”

I frowned. “Actually, I have a class right now. My tutorial group is waiting.”

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “That’s cute. But no, I think it’s my time.”

I stepped aside to go around him, but he swung his phone up between us like a warning.

“You really want me to send this to everyone?”

I groaned. “Maniac. You don’t threaten me,” I muttered under my breath, brushing past him and heading for my class.

“Flattered,” he called after me, sounding way too pleased with himself.

---

Inside, a few students were already waiting. The sound of chairs scraping, pages flipping, and hushed conversations filled the room. I gave them a small, apologetic smile.

“Sorry I’m late, guys. Let’s pick up where we left off.”

The air settled quickly, everyone pulling out their notes. Just as I began explaining the first topic, the door creaked open—and of course, it was him.

Heads turned instantly. Gasps, whispered names, and the subtle shuffle of excitement filled the room.

“Is that… Adrian Cole?” someone whispered, eyes wide.

“He’s… here?” another breathed, a hand sneaking toward their phone. “I need a photo.”

The ripple of murmurs spread like wildfire. Students nudged one another, trying not to stare, some whispering, “He’s so tall… wow,” while others whispered about his grin or his casual walk.

Adrian strolled in like he owned the place, dropped his bag, and pulled up a chair beside me as if he’d been invited. Several students tried to lift their phones subtly, hoping for a quick snapshot before he noticed.

I blinked, then hissed under my breath, “What are you doing here?”

“You said you have tutorials after school,” he replied easily, voice low enough for only me to hear. “So, since school has ended, I figured it’s time for me.”

Murmurs rippled again — this time tinged with awe and excitement.

“Wow… he just walked in,” someone muttered.

“Doesn’t he even care?” another whispered, as they tried to angle their phones for a quick snap.

I could feel the eyes on us, curiosity and admiration mingling with irritation. My jaw tightened as I tried to continue the class, but Adrian… Adrian was being Adrian.

He kept tapping his pen, humming under his breath, even leaning toward me once or twice with that insufferable grin.

I could feel my patience wearing thin.

“Adrian,” I warned quietly.

“What?” he said innocently. “I’m just trying to learn.”

A few students rolled their eyes. One girl sighed loudly and muttered, “Great. There goes our study hour.”

I pretended not to hear, even though embarrassment burned hot in my chest. My grip on the marker tightened.

After another few minutes of his teasing and the growing noise of restless whispers, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Guys... I’m so sorry. We have to close now,” I said finally, forcing my voice to stay steady.

A chorus of shocked groans erupted immediately.

“No! What? Already?” someone exclaimed, jaw dropping.

“First class with Adrian, and she’s ending early?” another whispered, disbelief clear in their tone.

“Seriously? We just started!”

“Wait… I didn’t even get a photo yet!” someone muttered, frantically lifting their phone before I could stop them.

I tried to calm them. “I promise we’ll continue tomorrow,” I said quickly, giving them an apologetic look.

They packed up reluctantly, some muttering under their breath, others stealing quick glances at Adrian as they left — admiration and frustration tangled together.

“She never cancels early.”

“Guess Mr. Popular gets what he wants.”

Their voices faded down the hallway, but the sting of their words stayed with me. Some still stole glances back at him, awe and frustration tangled together.

I turned to Adrian, my patience gone. “This is annoying. You can’t keep doing this.”

“Well,” he said, gaze flicking briefly—boldly—over me, “with those curves, no price is too big to pay.”

I gaped at him. “Excuse me?”

He just smiled, that infuriating, heart-stopping smile that made me want to hit him and blush at the same time. I snatched the history book from the desk and shoved it toward him.

“Open it. Page one. And keep your mouth shut before I reconsider this deal.”

“Okay, Bookie. So serious.”

Adrian sprawled across the table, flipping through the book with exaggerated boredom.

“Alright, genius,” he said. “Tell me which of these dead guys I have to memorize to pass.”

I shot him a look. “They’re not just ‘dead guys.’ They’re historical figures. Try respecting them for once.”

He raised a brow. “So serious. I swear, you were born a hundred years too late.”

“Keep talking and I’ll make you write a five-page essay on the American Revolution.”

He grinned. “You’d read it?”

“Only to correct every mistake.”

“Then maybe I’ll make a few on purpose,” he said, leaning back in his chair, eyes glinting with amusement.

I sighed, flipping through my notes. “Alright, Mr. Charm, tell me what you know about the Boston Tea Party.”

“Easy,” he said with mock confidence. “Some dudes got mad about tea, threw it in the water, and then war happened.”

I dropped my pen. “You can’t be serious.”

“Hey, you asked.”

“Unbelievable.”

He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying himself. I ignored him and focused on the notes, determined not to let him get under my skin. But he made it impossible. Every few minutes, he found some new way to distract me—stretching, tapping his pen, smirking whenever I corrected him.

Then something weird happened.

A thick textbook teetered on the edge of the desk. I reached to grab it, but before I even moved halfway, Adrian’s hand shot out and caught it midair.

The book hadn’t even touched the ground.

I froze. “How did you—?”

He shrugged. “Reflexes. Basketball helps.”

“Basketball doesn’t make you that fast,” I murmured.

He smiled faintly but said nothing, sliding the book back onto the stack. The silence that followed was charged—like the air just before lightning strikes. When our hands brushed a moment later, his skin felt hot—not just warm, but burning. I jerked back instinctively.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice lower now.

“Nothing,” I lied. “You’re just… warm.”

He smirked. “Guess I have that effect on people.”

“Keep dreaming,” I muttered, though my pulse was already betraying me.

For the next hour, I tried to teach while he found new ways to make me lose focus. Every smirk, every brush of his arm against mine—it all felt too intentional.

By the time the security came over and flicked the lights, signaling closing time, I was half ready to strangle him—and half afraid to look at him.

“We should go.”

“So fast?” he asked.

“You can see they want to close the classroom, right? Let’s go,” I said, packing my stuff. He followed me.

Outside, the air was cool. Adrian fell into step beside me, hands in his pockets, his usual arrogance dimmed to something quieter.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said simply.

“That’s not necessary,” I replied.

“Relax. It’s late. I don’t bite.”

“Good. Because I do.”

He laughed under his breath. “Now that’s something I’d pay to see.”

We walked in silence for a while, our footsteps echoing down the empty street. Then a low growl broke the quiet. A stray dog emerged from an alley, its eyes fixed on Adrian. The moment their gazes met, the dog whimpered—and ran.

I turned sharply toward him. “What was that about?”

He shrugged, but his jaw tightened. Under the streetlight, his eyes flashed—briefly, impossibly—gold.

I blinked. And just like that, the glow was gone.

“You okay?” I asked, my voice unsteady.

He smiled faintly. “Fine. Guess dogs don’t like me.”

Something in his tone made me shiver. I didn’t push it. I just nodded, pretending I hadn’t seen anything at all.

But as he turned and walked away, I caught the faintest reflection of light on his face again—and this time, I was sure.

His eyes weren’t brown. They were glowing.