Chapter 150: Progress, But Not in Class

No matter how hard she tried to convince herself that he was only assessing her progress, her heart seemed utterly convinced that he was watching her far more than he should.

Every time their eyes met—those dark, unreadable eyes—she lost a fraction of a second.

A tiny fraction.

But against Erik...

A fraction of a second was an eternity.

Third time on the floor.

Blanche hit the wooden boards hard.

Erik closed his eyes.

For a second.

A long second.

When he opened them again, his expression had become disturbingly calm.

"Up."

She obeyed immediately.

"Again."

She raised her guard.

He demonstrated the movement in slow motion.

"You copy it."

Blanche repeated the sequence.

"Again."

Then again.

And again.

By the tenth repetition, her shoulders were already burning.

By the twentieth, she no longer had to think—her body was reproducing the combination automatically.

By the thirtieth, despite herself, her gaze drifted toward Kiyan.

Mistake.

"We're starting over from the beginning."

Blanche grimaced.

Erik had noticed.

Of course he had.

She started over.

Once.

Twice.

Ten times.

Twenty.

Fifty.

Fifty opportunities for her thoughts to wander.

Fifty moments where, instead of anticipating the next move, she wondered whether Kiyan had looked up.

Whether he was watching her.

Whether he'd noticed that she completely lost her composure whenever he was around.

And every time that thought crossed her mind...

Erik corrected her stance with a sharp strike.

Without the slightest hint of mercy.

"What the hell are you doing?" he barked, running out of patience.

"Sorry. I got lost in thought," she replied, flawlessly executing the movement.

"Conceited and arrogant. As if you even knew how to think."

"I'll have you know, Sunday singer," Blanche shot back.

Erik froze, genuinely surprised, before effortlessly slamming her back onto the floor. She hadn't even tried to avoid it; she already knew he'd keep doing it until she was lying flat.

"A Sunday singer... me?" he repeated.

Blanche pouted.

"A singer, period. Even I can recognize a beautiful voice when I hear one. You should sing more often."

If looks could kill, she'd already be dead.

"How did you...?"

He rolled his eyes before turning toward Kiyan.

"You. I knew I'd regret giving you that one day."

"You lost the bet," Kiyan replied, closing his laptop.

Blanche shook her head, amused.

How on earth were those two friends?

Erik seized the distraction to throw her to the floor once more, pinning her beneath his full weight.

A monster.

Still, he offered her a hand afterward.

She hesitated...

Then accepted it.

"That's enough for today," Kiyan said.

A rare act of mercy.

As usual, Erik left without so much as a goodbye.

Blanche found herself alone with her best friend's father.

Awkwardly so.

Kiyan studied her in silence.

Unsure what to do, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Uh... I should get going."

"No."

Surprised, she looked at him.

He crossed one leg over the other, rested his hands on his knee, then conjured a chair beside him.

With a resigned sigh, Blanche sat down.

Good grief...

This attic really was dusty.

"A little mouse broke into my house last night and emptied my fridge..."

His tone was openly amused.

"Oh..."

He nudged her foot with his own.

"Blanche?"

"Yeah?"

"What were you doing at my house?"

She opened her mouth.

Considered lying.

Then thought better of it.

"You don't want to tell me?"

She shook her head.

"Or you can't?"

She closed her eyes.

Kiyan sighed.

And, completely unexpectedly, she burst out laughing as she remembered his photograph.

He couldn't help joining her, relieved to hear her laugh again.

Their chuckles quickly dissolved into genuine laughter, dispelling a tension neither of them had even realized they were carrying.

They talked about everything.

And nothing.

Just like before.

The easy companionship Eva envied resurfaced...

If only for a little while.

The bell announcing the next class interrupted them.

Blanche stood.

"See you in class."

"And for Ra's sake, bring something to take notes with," Kiyan grumbled.

"I promise, Professor," she murmured with a teasing smile.

She was just about to step through the doorway, convinced he'd already returned to work, when a hand gently closed around her wrist.

She froze.

Before she even had time to turn around, Kiyan slowly drew her back toward him.

The movement was infinitely gentle, as though he still feared startling her.

Her back met his chest almost instantly.

The warmth of his body seeped through the thin layers of their clothes, while the woody scent of his cologne, laced with a subtle amber note, enveloped her completely.

Blanche felt her breath catch for the briefest instant.

She tensed instinctively.

Then, almost against her will, the tension gradually melted from her shoulders.

One muscle after another relaxed.

As though her body recognized this place before her mind did.

Kiyan's arms tightened around her just a little more, with that quiet strength that never sought to restrain...

Only to protect.

He said nothing.

The silence was enough.

Blanche closed her eyes.

She could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her back, feel the slow rise and fall of his breathing.

The world suddenly seemed much quieter, as though the attic, Erik, school, and every worry of the past few days had ceased to exist for a little while.

Kiyan lowered his head slightly.

His lips brushed the crown of her hair in a kiss filled with boundless tenderness—almost chaste, yet carrying an affection he was finding harder and harder to conceal.

He inhaled quietly, as though trying to hold onto her scent for one heartbeat longer.

Then his arms slowly loosened.

Almost reluctantly.

As if letting her go cost him more than he would ever admit.

His hand slid down her arm until it found hers, his fingers lingering a second too long before finally releasing her.

"Go," he whispered simply.

Blanche looked up at him.

In those dark eyes—usually so composed—she thought she caught the faintest flicker of hesitation...

That very human desire to keep her there just a few minutes longer.

To stretch this suspended moment just a little further.

A gentle smile lit her face despite herself.

Then, reluctantly—for both of them—she turned away and stepped through the door, carrying the warmth of his embrace with her.

Kiyan remained standing there for several seconds, his eyes lingering on the now-empty doorway before letting out a quiet sigh and, with visible effort, returning to his computer.

With everything that had happened...

Blanche had completely forgotten to tell him about her pajama party.

She laughed in advance, imagining his reaction.