|FEATURED|
Cupid's arrows aren't exactly romantic anymore-they're chaos in disguise.
Each one's packed with: laughter bombs, a pinch of madness, jealousy that burns, unexpected love showers, and a microscopic jar of anxiety, sadness, and heartbreak...
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DRASHELLE'S POV
I was twenty minutes early. Twenty. I'd even brought snacks I didn't like, so I wouldn't be tempted to eat them out of nervous boredom.
My annotated copy of Othello sat open in front of me, untouched- because who could focus on Shakespearean betrayal when Kevin was supposed to meet you for English homework? This wasn't a date. Obviously. It was just homework. Just tragic monologues and literary devices. Just me brushing my hair for 45 minutes beforehand. Totally normal.
I checked the time again. Still early. I tried to look casual, like I hadn't picked the perfect seat with the best lighting. Like my heart wasn't threatening to audition for a punk rock band.
I had barely flipped to page seventeen of my English textbook when a voice slid across the table like a cold breeze on a hot day.
"You study here often?"
I looked up. Tall. Sharp jaw. Good posture. He had a notebook in one hand and a devil-may-care smirk that felt...inviting.
"Sometimes," I said, blinking twice to reboot my brain.
Who is this man? Why were his biceps the size of my face?
Out of the corner of my eye, movement by the bookshelf. A tall figure froze mid-step, then turned away. Kevin. Great.
I felt my heart in my stomach when I say Kevin and averted my gaze to this man in front of me. I could feel the heart beat in my ears.
"Drashelle, right?" the new guy continued, already pulling out a chair. "I'm Callix. Transfer student. We've got a math class together. I've just never had the guts to talk to you before."
Callix. What kind of name was that? It sounded made up.
AND. HE. KNOWS. MY. NAME?
He smiled again, and suddenly the air shifted - warmer, charged. My fingertips tingled.
What the hell?
"How do you know my name?"
He chuckled at my question. "Eager to get your gossip, aren't you?"
"That's not an answer," I shot back, narrowing my eyes. I notice Kevin across the room near a bookshelf and he seemed to be paying attention to the conversation even though his eyes roamed across the titles of hardcovers.
"Okay, fine," he said, holding up his hands like he was surrendering. "We're in two classes together. Math and Psych. Plus, you asked that one professor if love could be a trauma response. Hard to forget."
I blinked again.
"...Fair."
"You are also really hard to miss," he spoke without making eye contact.
OH MY GOODNESS, I AM HARD TO MISS.
"Are you actually in my math class?" I asked, eyebrows lifting.
