Chapter 58: Chapter Fifty Seven

Eros

I knew who Athena Sanderson was. Hell, the whole country did. Her name had been etched into headlines long before anyone truly knew her story—and it was all thanks to her father, James Carter. He made her famous. But he also shattered every chance she might’ve had at happiness. Still, that never stopped Athena from carving out her independence, piece by piece.

The first time I saw her, she'd been shoved down a flight of stairs by some immature seventeen-year-old punk. Luckily, I’d been behind her and caught her just in time—my reflexes were the only thing between us and a dangerous fall. That moment is burned into my memory, not just because of the chaos, but because of her eyes.

They were the color of aged whiskey—warm, golden, and endlessly deep. Like sunlight trapped in a glass of old liquor—radiant, bold, impossible to ignore. But when they met mine, they were filled with a fear so raw it pierced straight through me. And right then, I knew something inside me was off—something I hadn’t fully realized until her gaze forced me to see it.

The second time wasn’t dramatic. There was no slow-motion walk, no clichéd spotlight shining down on her. It was quiet. Subtle. But it changed everything.

It was a Tuesday—one of those dull, dragging days with an overcast sky and everyone half-asleep from whatever nonsense had drained the day. I was heading to the library, more out of routine than necessity, when I saw her again.

She sat alone by the corridor window, knees pulled up on the chair, a thick book balanced in her hands. Her hair was messily tied back, a few strands falling loose and framing her face. She wasn’t doing anything remarkable—just reading, completely absorbed in the pages.

But there was something about the way her brows furrowed at certain lines, how her lips curled ever so slightly like she was quietly reacting to the story—it caught me off guard. It made me pause. And then I couldn’t look away.

She was… beautiful. But not in the way people usually mean it. Not polished. Not dressed to impress. Just real. Effortless. Unfiltered—untouched by the noise everyone else tried so hard to chase.

She looked up for a moment, maybe sensing my stare, and our eyes met. Just briefly. But it hit me—hard. My chest tightened in a way I wasn’t prepared for, like something inside me cracked open without warning.

I turned away, pretending I hadn’t been watching. But I felt it—that strange, unfamiliar flicker. Dangerous. Real. And I knew right then, nothing was going to be the same.

Because for the first time, I wasn’t just seeing Athena Sanderson.

I was feeling her.

After that day, something shifted in me.

I tried to brush it off, convincing myself it was just a fleeting moment. A passing thought. But I started noticing things—small things I hadn’t before. Like the way she tugged at her sleeve when she was nervous. How she always offered the last bite of her lunch, even when she clearly wanted it. Or how her laughter echoed in my head longer than it should’ve.

I found myself arriving early to our spot under the oak tree, sometimes bringing her favorite snacks and pretending it was just coincidence. I started listening more. Watching more. Caring more.

By the time lunch came around, I was already waiting beneath the big oak tree in the school courtyard—our quiet escape from the chaos. I leaned back, legs stretched out, arms behind my head, letting the breeze wash over me. It was the only place where things felt simple.

Then I saw her, walking toward me with a sandwich in hand, her steps light but purposeful.

“You’re early,” she said with a soft smile.

“I wanted to make sure no one cornered you again,” I replied, offering a half-smile in return.

But it wasn’t just about protection. It was about presence.

I wanted to be here—for her. To see her. To feel her near me.

She chuckled, settling beside me, her shoulder brushing lightly against mine. “I don’t think they’ll be trying that again anytime soon.”

“You’ve got a reputation now,” I teased, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Athena the Fierce.”

She laughed and nudged me playfully with her elbow. “Oh, stop.”

“I’m serious. That took guts.” I said, my tone softening without meaning to. “Most people would’ve backed down—especially in front of someone like Scarlett.”

Her smile faltered slightly as she looked down at her sandwich. “I was tired of feeling helpless. Tired of being afraid to take up space.”

I turned to face her fully, her words hitting deeper than she probably realized. “You’ve never been helpless, Athena. You’ve just been underestimated. There’s a difference.”

She looked up, our eyes meeting—something unspoken settling between us in the silence that followed.

“Thanks,” she said quietly. “You’ve always made me feel like I mattered… like I wasn’t just someone passing through.”

“I didn’t say it to make you feel better,” I replied. “You’re not just someone. You’re someone, Athena.”

Her name lingered on my tongue, heavier now—meaningful. She looked at me, unsure of how to respond. And for a second, I almost reached for her hand.

Before I could, a small group of students passed by. One nodded in her direction. Another offered a smile.

She blinked, confused. “Did that girl just… smile at me?”

I laughed. “Looks like your fan club’s growing.”

She rolled her eyes, though the corners of her lips lifted. “I don’t need a fan club. I just want to survive this school year without being shoved into a locker.”

I smirked. “That might be harder now. You’ve officially become interesting.”

We sat there in easy silence, the breeze rustling through the leaves above us. I could’ve stayed like that forever.

Then, her voice broke through the stillness.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Why do you hang out with me?” Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. “You could be with anyone. You’re… well, you.”

The question caught me off guard. I looked at her, really looked. “Because you’re not like anyone else. You don’t pretend. You don’t play those popularity games. You’re real.”

She looked surprised, a flicker of doubt crossing her face. “Most people think being ‘real’ is boring.” she muttered.

I shook my head. “Then most people clearly don’t know what they’re talking about,” I said with a hint of disdain.

Her smile this time was different—warmer, touched by something quiet and tender, something I couldn’t name yet but already wanted to protect.

“You’re not what I expected, Eros,” she said softly.

“And you,” I replied, bumping her shoulder with mine, “are exactly what I didn’t know I needed.”

She laughed—a quiet, unsure laugh. But there was a flicker in her eyes. A shift.

That evening, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. About the way her smile lit up when she wasn’t holding back. About how strong she was, even when she didn’t see it herself.

I didn’t know what was happening between us—not exactly—but I knew one thing for sure:

Athena Sanderson was anything but ordinary.

And I would never let her forget that.

When other guys looked at her—really looked—I felt something stir in my chest. Not quite jealousy, but something close. A tension. A protective instinct I couldn’t fully explain. Like a part of me already knew how rare she was—and didn’t want anyone else getting too close.

I caught myself doing the smallest things—choosing the seat next to hers in class, leaning a little closer when she read something aloud, remembering every little detail she mentioned, even in passing. Things that shouldn’t have mattered—but somehow did.

But I didn’t say anything. Not yet.

Because I wasn’t sure what it meant. Or what it was turning into.

All I knew was this: I was drawn to her in a way that ran deeper than anything I’d felt before. It wasn’t just friendship anymore. Not for me.

I just didn’t know how to say it… or if I should.

Because sometimes, when someone starts to mean more than they should… they become too important to risk losing.

And I wasn’t ready to lose her.

Not now.

Not ever.