Chapter 17: The blur memory
The lecture dragged on, but I couldn’t focus. My pen hovered uselessly above the page while my eyes kept sneaking toward Leonel.
He was sitting all the way across the room, his arms crossed, gaze pinned on the board like the professor’s words were the only thing that mattered. But I knew better. He was pissed. At me.
My chest squeezed. I hated the distance, hated that he’d chosen to sit so far away.
I tried to concentrate, but then like a punch in the gut something flickered in my head. A memory. Blurry at first, then sharp enough to knock the air out of me.
You started this.
Leonel’s voice. His weight on me. His hand pressed against my chest.
I stiffened. What the hell? Did that really happen? Or am I imagining things?
I swallowed hard, forcing myself back into the present, but the image wouldn’t leave. My pulse was racing by the time the bell rang.
Students shuffled out, chatter filling the room. I gathered my bag, hesitated, then marched straight toward him. My fingers trembled as I tapped his shoulder.
"Hey," I said, trying to sound casual, though my voice wavered. "Aren’t you quick-tempered? You didn’t have to sit all the way here."
From two rows back, Leonel caught Aiden watching, arms folded, his expression tight. That only made him feel more thrilled.
Leonel leaned back in his chair, giving me that cool look that always made me feel like he was standing trial.
His head turned slowly, eyes sharp. "Hmm? Weren’t you the one who didn’t want to sit next to me? You were even rude enough to ask on the spot if Aiden wanted to switch seats."
The words stung. My throat tightened.
"Well... that was because you sounded angry," I whispered, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "And I thought you didn’t want to be near me."
His eyes shot wide, like I’d slapped him. He opened his mouth, then stopped, running a hand through his hair with a frustrated click of his tongue.
"It-it wasn’t like that," he muttered.
Relief washed over me, warm and shaky. I smiled before I could stop myself, reaching out and tugging gently at his arm.
"C’mon then," I said with a grin. "Let’s go back to that seat."
For a moment, he didn’t move. He just stared at me, his expression unreadable, his pulse visible in the hollow of his throat.
I thought he’d pull away.
Instead, the silence stretched, heavy, charged. My hand was still on his arm, and I couldn’t bring myself to let go.
"Cassian..." he said finally, voice low, rough, like he was holding something back.
The way he said my name made my stomach flip.
I froze. My heart hammered so loud I swore he could hear it.
And then-.....