Monday – Back to School
I walked into Class 1-A expecting peace.
Big mistake.
Sofia Hart was already leaning back in her seat—one leg over the other, twirling her phone between her fingers like a villain with no screen time limit. Her skirt was slightly higher than school regulation. Her eyes locked on me the second I stepped inside.
Game on.
"Morning, Rep," she purred.
"Morning, Distraction," I replied.
She gasped—hand to chest, mock-wounded. "You think I'm a distraction?"
"To learning? Absolutely."
She grinned. "Good."
Ten Minutes Later – Morning Mayhem
Mr. Brooks wasn't in yet. Half the class was chatting, the other half already watching us. I barely sat down before Sofia stood up.
She strolled across the room and dropped a folded piece of paper onto my desk like it was a confession letter.
"Today's schedule," she said sweetly.
I raised an eyebrow. "You're making me an itinerary now?"
"Nope. Just listing all the clubs who tried to claim your soul again."
I opened it. Drama, Art, Home Ec, Basketball, and—for some reason—Astronomy.
"Astronomy doesn't even meet during the day."
"They want your light, Jay."
I groaned. "I'm transferring schools."
Homeroom – 10 Minutes Later
Mr. Brooks finally wandered in, coffee in hand, sunglasses indoors.
"I swear if one more club puts a bribe in my desk drawer, I'm throwing someone into detention by instinct."
Everyone laughed.
Then his eyes slid to me.
"Markov. Drama wants you again."
"Hard pass."
"Too bad. You're scheduled."
I slumped forward.
Club Rotations – Home Ec First
I arrived to find three girls in aprons already waiting, squealing softly when I walked in.
One handed me a spoon. Another handed me a glove.
The third asked if I could "please smile while slicing."
I did.
The squeals hit supersonic levels.
Break Between Clubs – The Closet Incident
It happened after Home Ec—Sofia dragged me into the old supply room near the art wing.
Not "help me move boxes" dragged.
Full-wrist-pull, door-slam-behind-us dragged.
"Sofia—what are we doing?"
"Crowd control," she said innocently, stacking some empty cardboard boxes between us and the door.
I blinked. "From who?"
"Everyone," she said. "I'm claiming five minutes of your time before someone else does."
I narrowed my eyes. "That's a little territorial, don't you think?"
She stepped closer.
"So, stop me."
The room was small. Dusty. Dimly lit.
Too warm.
And she was way too close.
She pushed a clipboard off the nearest shelf with her elbow and leaned in just slightly.
"You've been playing with everyone," she whispered. "Amaya. Emma. Even Luna's drawing you like a Greek god."
"Sofia—"
"But I've been here since day one," she added, finger trailing up my sleeve. "And I don't play nice."
I didn't move.
She leaned closer.
"Your heart racing yet?"
I smirked. "I don't have a heart. Didn't you know?"
She reached forward and straightened my collar. "Then what's pounding through your neck right now?"
The air between us sizzled.
Her lips hovered near mine—close enough to feel.
But she didn't kiss me.
Instead, she stepped back, ran a hand through her hair, and grinned.
"See? Five minutes well spent."
Then she walked out.
Leaving me leaning against a dusty wall with zero blood flow to my brain.
Lunchtime – Sofia, Again
"I won," she said, dropping beside me at the courtyard bench.
"Won what?"
"Whatever that was."
Amaya was two benches down, watching us. She looked away the second I turned.
Emma walked past and paused just long enough to not say anything.
Sofia chewed her sandwich, watching them both.
"You know," she said quietly, "you're not just fun anymore."
I blinked. "Huh?"
"You're dangerous now."
Then she winked.
And bit into a strawberry with terrifying grace.
Afternoon – Final Club: Art Room
I helped Luna carry paint trays, carefully avoided smearing my shirt, and posed like an idiot for a "gesture study."
Luna said nothing. Just sketched.
At one point she said, "You smell like cinnamon."
I froze. "Wait—what?"
"Probably Sofia."
I sighed. "Should I be worried?"
She smiled softly. "Not unless you like being hunted."
Evening – At Home
I tossed my shirt onto the couch, still smelling faintly of vanilla, flour, and strawberry.
I opened my notebook to prep tomorrow's club list and stopped.
My pen hovered.
Because I couldn't stop thinking about the way Sofia looked at me in that supply room.
Not just playful.
Not just teasing.
But possessive.
And for the first time…
I wasn't sure who was winning anymore.