Chapter 11

ARIA

Jess’s voice followed the sound, small but steady.

“Good evening, sir.”

Maxwell’s hand froze mid-button. “Good—good evening, Jess.” His tone tried for neutral, but the pause between each word betrayed him.

I straightened, yanking my skirt down a fraction, trying to remember how to breathe. Jess’s eyes darted from his open collar to the faint red mark blooming near my knee where he’d pressed earlier. Her brows lifted just a touch, nothing dramatic, but enough.

“You’re awake,” she said finally, looking at me. “That’s… good.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “He was just checking if I’d, you know, concussed myself.”

Maxwell cleared his throat. “She’s fine. A mild shock, nothing more. You can take her back now.”

Jess nodded too quickly. “Right. Thank you, sir.”

I grabbed my bag, I guess he’d brought it in for me. For a second our eyes met again, then I walked out first. Jess followed, and the door clicked shut behind us.

We just walked, her shoes clicking faster than mine.

When we reached the stairwell, I finally broke it. “Are you going to keep glaring or actually talk?”

Nothing.

“Jess.”

Still nothing.

I stopped walking. “I literally just survived a head-trauma moment and you’re mad at me? For what, existing?”

She turned, arms folded tight. “You’re unbelievable.”

“What did I do?”

Her laugh was short, mean, half disbelief. “You really don’t see it? You’re in his office for over an hour, and when I come back you look like you’ve been through a war—but not the kind that gives injuries.”

I scoffed. “You think I planned to get hit with a volleyball?”

“No. But I think you planned what happened after.”

That stung more than I wanted to admit. “He was helping me.”

“Helping you,” she echoed, rolling the words like something sour. “Every sentence with you ends with him lately. ‘He said this,’ ‘he looked at me,’ ‘he helped me.’ It’s like he’s colonized your brain.”

“That’s dramatic,” I said, forcing a laugh.

Jess didn’t smile. “It’s true. I tried calling you—twice. No answer. Where even was your phone?”

I reached into my bag, it was empty. My stomach dipped. “I… maybe left it in his office.”

Her eyes widened. “Of course you did.”

“I’ll go back for it,” I said quickly, already turning.

Jess caught my wrist. “Aria, stop. Do you hear yourself? You’re ready to run back there again.”

I yanked free. “It’s just my phone.”

“It’s not about your phone.” Her voice dropped, lower now. “You don’t get it. You keep chasing danger like it’s oxygen. First Kyle, now him—same pattern, same crash waiting at the end.”

The mention of Kyle hit like a slap. “Don’t start.”

“I am starting,” she snapped. “Because you don’t listen until it’s a disaster. You think every man who looks at you is a test you have to pass.”

“Wow.”

Jess exhaled hard, shoulders rising and falling. “I’m not your enemy, Aria. But I’m not watching you drown yourself either.”

We’d reached the dorm by then. I kicked off my shoes and sat on the edge of my bed. Jess hovered by the door, still fuming.

“You really hate me right now,” I said.

She shook her head. “No. I hate watching you lie to yourself.”

I stared at my hands. They were still trembling faintly. “You didn’t see him when—”

“I saw enough.”

The words hung there. For a second I thought she’d leave it at that, but she stepped forward, voice softening.

“Look. I know you, Aria. You chase the feeling—power, love, whatever you want to call it. But this? This is you walking straight into the fire and calling it warmth. I don’t know how many times I’d have to fucking lecture you until you get this.”

Her tone cracked a little at the end, and that broke me more than the accusation.

“I didn’t mean for it to get… complicated,” I said quietly.

“Then stop making it complicated.”

I finally stood. “I’m going to the lounge. Need air.”

Jess sighed. “You’re really not going back there, are you?”

I hesitated. “No.”

But even I didn’t believe myself.

The lounge was mostly empty. I grabbed a soda I didn’t want, sat by the window, and stared out at the storm building over the faculty wing. Somewhere inside that building, he was probably still pacing, pretending he wasn’t thinking about what almost happened.

I could still feel the ghost of his touch. The way he’d touched me, the way his thumb had traced the edge of my skin without thought. It wasn’t my imagination; I knew what I’d seen in his eyes before Jess opened that door.

I hated that the memory thrilled me.

The door to the lounge creaked again. Jess walked in, holding both our phones. She tossed mine onto the table in front of me. “Found it. In your backpack. So maybe you didn’t leave it in his office after all.”

“Oh.” I felt stupid.

She sat opposite me, arms crossed. “You can thank me later. For the phone and for dragging you out of there before anyone else saw.”

I didn’t answer.

She leaned forward. “I’m serious, Aria. You have to slow down. The whole campus talks about him. The rumors, none of them end well.”

“Rumors are just noise,” I said.

“Noise can ruin people.”

We stared at each other until she finally stood, muttering, “I’m taking a shower. Do whatever, but please, for once, think.”

When she left, the lounge felt enormous. I pressed my palms against my face, trying to erase the image of his hands, his voice, his restraint snapping for half a second before he caught it again.

Hours later, I lay awake, the dorm lights off, Jess breathing steadily in the other bed. The rain had turned steady but my mind refused rest. Every time I closed my eyes, the scene replayed, his gaze dropping, his voice, the almost.

Almost is a dangerous word.

I turned to the ceiling, whispering to no one, “Why does it feel like falling and flying at the same time?”

Jess stirred but didn’t wake.

By the time dawn came in, I had my answer: because I didn’t want to stop.

Morning came in soon enough.

Jess had already left for her place. On my desk was a sticky note: Don’t skip class. Please.

I smiled faintly. Always the caretaker.

I dressed up and when I slipped my notebook into my bag, something fell out, a folded handkerchief. It was his. I must’ve taken it without realizing.

The campus outside was wet, puddles catching the reflections of the sky. I moved through them on autopilot until I reached the quad.

Jess spotted me near the coffee stand, hesitated, then walked over. “You look like you didn’t sleep.”

“Take a wild guess,” I said, forcing a small smile.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “Fine. But if you’re late for class, that’s a you problem.”

Jess glanced at the time on her phone. “Crap. I’ve got Lit in ten. You good?”

I nodded, though my stomach still hadn’t settled since leaving his office. “Yeah. I’ve got bio practical. If Mrs. Henderson doesn’t decide to ruin my day.”

Jess rolled her eyes. “Good luck surviving Maya. That girl acts like a lab pet.”

“Tell me about it,” I muttered, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

“Try not to murder her,” Jess said dryly, heading for the door. “But if you eventually give in, text me if you need backup.”

“Sure thing.”

We got to the hall and the door had barely shut behind her before a voice cut through the room.

“Oh, good news, everyone!” Maya’s tone was sugary, the kind that always meant serious trouble.

She strolled in, all confidence and gloss, phone in hand like it was a microphone. “Mrs. Henderson just shifted the bio practical till further notice. Can we just—thank the gods?”

A chorus of groans turned to relieved cheers from a few students nearby. Maya grinned, soaking it in like applause. She looked like she’d just canceled a war.

“Guess your suffering’s postponed,” she said, flashing me a bright, fake smile.

“Guess so,” I said flatly, zipping my bag. I was two seconds from slipping out when she moved toward the door, brushing my shoulder harder than necessary.

She didn’t say anything, just that quick, assessing glance.

I stood still for a second, jaw tight, before exhaling through my teeth and heading for the hallway.

By the time I got outside, Jess was leaning against the rail at the bottom of the stairwell, phone in hand.

“You’re done already?” she called, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah,” I said, adjusting my strap. “Maya just announced her world peace treaty.”

Jess let out a short laugh. “Of course she did. That girl would sell tickets to her own reflection.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.”

I started toward her, but she motioned for me to come closer. I frowned, hesitating a second before stepping down.

“Why aren’t you in Literature?” I asked, swinging my bag onto my shoulder.

She shrugged. “Mr. Murphy’s not around. The man treats time like a myth, shows up a decade after class is supposed to start. Besides, that room stinks like old socks. I needed air.” She paused, eyeing me. “And honestly, I have no friends in there. So… here I am.”

I laughed softly. “Relatable.”

Jess’s expression shifted then, curiosity filling in her eyes. “Anyway, what’s up with that dead stare Maya gave you? You good?”

I exhaled. “Yeah, just… Maya being Maya. I think she’s trying to get in my head.”

Jess glanced past me, her brows furrowing. “Speaking of Maya—uh, isn’t that her?”

I turned.

There she was again, striding down the hallway like she owned it.

Jess straightened beside me. “What’s she doing down there?”

I didn’t answer. We both watched as Maya crossed the courtyard. She didn’t hesitate? not once, as she approached the faculty wing.

Then she stopped.

Right in front of his door.

My chest went tight.

Maya knocked once, then turned slightly, catching sight of us at the stairwell. Her eyes locked on mine, and that evil smirk curled at the corner of her mouth.

Then she turned the handle and slipped inside.

Jess’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Aria—”

“I saw,” I said quietly, my pulse quickening.

“I saw.”