Chapter Text
The courtyard was already alive by the time Jasmine stepped out of the humanities building. The air buzzed with overlapping voices, laughter, and the squeak of sneakers against concrete. Morning sunlight bounced off the fountain in the center, scattering shards of light across faces that looked too awake for a weekday. Someone strummed a guitar under a tree; another group huddled around a box of pastries, arguing about who’d take the last croissant.
It should have felt normal, but the moment Saphara appeared at the edge of the crowd, the noise shifted. Heads tilted, whispers sparked, and phones subtly lifted. Jasmine noticed it instantly, the way the air bent toward Saphara as if she carried her own gravity.
Saphara didn’t rush. She never did. Her walk was measured, heels clicking softly, posture straight, her dark hair catching the light with every step. She wore a white blouse tucked into a pleated skirt, simple but somehow sharper than everyone else’s version of the same uniform. Her lipstick was the exact shade of confidence.
Jasmine adjusted the strap of her bag and tried to look casual, like she wasn’t part of the silent procession forming in Saphara’s wake. But she was. She always was.
“Hey, Saphara!” Lana called from the steps near the fountain, waving like she’d been waiting all morning for the chance. “You look amazing today!”
Saphara tilted her head, smiling just enough to be gracious but not enough to seem eager. “Thanks, Lana. You’re glowing din ah! Big project day?”
Lana laughed, fingers tugging at her sleeve. “Yeah, hoping I survive it. It would’ve been easier if I was you.”
Saphara’s laugh was light, practiced. “Oh, don’t say that. You’ve got this.” She winked, and Lana’s whole face brightened. Jasmine saw it, the small, dangerous spark of validation Saphara could give with a single glance.
Across the courtyard, a boy leaned against a tree, trying to act cool. “Saphara,” he called, voice almost cracking, “Hi Saphara, uh. Can I ask if you want to grab a quick lunch later?” Asking shyly.
Saphara looked over her shoulder, eyes glinting. “Lunch? Pagisipan ko, baka di mo kayanin energy ko eh.” She answered jokingly with a hint of still flirting.
The boy’s laugh came out nervous. “You know for you I’ll always try! Just let me know, Saph!”
Of course you will, Jasmine thought. Everyone always tries.
She trailed behind, hugging her books against her chest. She told herself she was only following because they shared a class, but even she didn’t believe that. There was something magnetic about Saphara, how she moved, how people rearranged themselves around her without even realizing it.
Near the fountain, a group of freshmen spilled their iced coffee. Saphara stepped neatly around the puddle without breaking stride. “Careful,” she said with a teasing smile. “Take it easy kasi with your coffee.”
The boys laughed, embarrassed but flattered. Jasmine exhaled slowly. Of course. Everything Saphara said landed perfectly.
“Morning, Saphara,” another guy called from the stairs. “Rooftop party later, punta ka?”
“Of course,” Saphara said smoothly. “But only if you can keep up with me.”
He grinned, flushed. “Challenge accepted.”
Jasmine rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitched. It was ridiculous, watching the same performance every morning and still falling for it.
“Seriously,” she muttered, low enough that only Saphara might hear. “They’re all falling for you.”
Saphara turned her head slightly, eyes bright with mischief. “Falling? No, darling. They’re orbiting. Mas poetic ‘di ba?”
Jasmine snorted. “Right. Orbiting.”
Saphara bumped her shoulder lightly. “You always look so serious, parang lagi kang nagca-calculate ng galaw ko.”
“I’m not calculating anything,” Jasmine said, tightening her grip on her books.
“Not yet,” Saphara teased. “But give it time. You’ll learn the ropes.”
“The ropes?” Jasmine raised an eyebrow. “Ropes of what exactly?”
Saphara leaned in, her voice dropping just enough to make Jasmine’s pulse jump. “How to survive being around me.”
Jasmine rolled her eyes again, but a smile tugged at her lips. “Great. Sounds like a fun elective.”
Saphara chuckled, pleased.
They passed a café cart where two girls were whispering loudly enough to be heard. “Uy, ang ganda niya today. Ano bang secret niya?”
Saphara tossed them a grin over her shoulder. “That’s why it’s a secret. Maybe I’ll tell you later if I see you around sa party.”
The girls giggled, giddy from being acknowledged. Jasmine shook her head. She even weaponizes compliments.
A stray dog wandered across the path. Without missing a beat, Saphara crouched to pat its head. Three students instantly pulled out their phones. “Aww, Saphara with the dog!” one of them whispered. Saphara stood, brushing invisible dust off her skirt like she’d rehearsed the gesture.
Jasmine bit the inside of her cheek. “She makes a dog look like a prop,” she muttered.
Saphara heard it and laughed softly. “Props are useful, you know. They make the scene prettier.”
The comment stung more than Jasmine wanted to admit. She kept walking, pretending she hadn’t heard.
By the time they reached the lecture-hall doors, Saphara paused, scanning the students inside. Her tone softened. “Nakikita mo ‘to? Everyone pretending they don’t care, but I can feel their eyes.”
Jasmine followed her gaze. Dozens of students were chatting, scrolling through their phones, opening notebooks, but yeah, their glances flickered again and again toward Saphara. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “You’re unforgettable.”
“Unforgettable?” Saphara laughed under her breath. “That’s one word. I’d go with inevitable.”
Jasmine smirked. “Wow. Confidence level: Top tier.”
“Manifestation lang ‘yan,” Saphara said lightly, pushing open the door.
Inside, the lecture hall was cooler, shadows stretching across rows of wooden desks. The scent of floor polish mixed with old paper. A few students looked up, whispering to each other as Saphara entered, and Jasmine felt that shift again, the invisible current that followed her everywhere.
They took their usual seats near the middle. Jasmine opened her notebook, clicking her pen twice to ground herself. Saphara set down her tote, every movement slow, deliberate. The rustle of her skirt seemed louder than it should’ve been.
When the professor walked in, a hush fell over the room. He adjusted his glasses, muttered a greeting, and began scribbling on the board. Jasmine started writing immediately, grateful for something to focus on.
Beside her, Saphara leaned in. “You take too many notes,” she whispered. “Planning to teach this class someday?”
“Just trying to keep up,” Jasmine murmured back.
“Keep up?” Saphara smiled. “Sweetheart, sobrang organized mo.”
“I’m just focused, okay?”
Saphara’s breath brushed her ear. “Focused, huh? I’ll make sure staying near me keeps that focus tested.”
Jasmine felt heat crawl up her neck. “You’re distracting,” she whispered.
“That’s the point,” Saphara said, smirking.
The professor turned suddenly. “Miss Rosales?”
Jasmine straightened. “Yes, sir?”
“What is a Freudian Slip?” The professor asked.
Jasmine with a confident smile answered, “Is an unintentional error that according to psychoanalytic theory, reveals a person’s unconscious wishes, thoughts, or feelings.”
He smiled faintly. “Excellent job, Ms. Rosales. Good to see someone’s awake and attentive this morning.”
A few students chuckled. Saphara’s grin widened. “See? He notices you too.”
“Because I’m actually listening,” Jasmine hissed, though she couldn’t help laughing under her breath.
Saphara rested her chin on her hand, eyes flicking between the board and Jasmine’s notebook. Her nails were painted pale pink, perfectly neat. “You make it look easy,” she said quietly.
Jasmine blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“Being serious,” Saphara said. “I could never pull that off.”
“You pull off everything,” Jasmine said before she could stop herself.
Saphara looked at her then, really looked, and Jasmine’s stomach fluttered. There was a flicker of something softer in Saphara’s eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came. She leaned back in her seat, attention drifting toward the window.
Jasmine exhaled slowly, pen tapping against the paper. She told herself it was fine. She didn’t need Saphara to look at her like that again. But the echo of that glance clung to her thoughts long after the lecture resumed.
When class ended, Saphara gathered her things effortlessly, as though the entire hour had been a performance she’d controlled from start to finish. She stood, smiling at a few classmates, throwing quick comments that left them laughing.
Jasmine took her time packing up, watching quietly. The air seemed to bend again around Saphara, the same pull, the same orbit.
Jasmine slung her bag over her shoulder and followed her out, trying to look like she wasn’t following. The hallway outside was bright, flooded with sunlight that reflected off the polished floor. Students streamed past them in small groups, laughing, gossiping, tossing casual greetings Saphara’s way. Every “Hi, Saph!” came with that same tone of admiration, that same subtle lean toward her, as if proximity could transfer a bit of her glow.
Saphara smiled, waved, winked where it counted. She knew exactly when to meet someone’s eyes and when to withhold attention, and that balance was what kept everyone wanting more. Jasmine watched her, fascinated despite herself. It wasn’t just beauty, it was control disguised as charm.
They reached the main staircase, where a few students lingered. A boy from the basketball team grinned as they passed. “Saphara! Kita tayo sa party mamaya, ha?”
Saphara tilted her head, playful. “Hmm depende. Baka busy ako sa mas interesting na bagay.”
The boy laughed, pretending not to be crushed by that “maybe.” Jasmine’s lips pressed into a small smile. Saphara had a way of giving just enough hope to keep people hanging on.
When they stepped outside, the courtyard light was harsher now, and the buzz had softened into a lazy hum. Students sprawled on benches, phones out, drinks half-finished. Jasmine walked half a step behind as always, clutching her notebook like armor.
“Do you ever get tired of it?” she asked quietly.
“Of what?”
“The attention. The pretending.”
Saphara laughed lightly. “Who said I’m pretending?”
Jasmine hesitated. “You just, you always have to be on. Doesn’t that get exhausting?”
Saphara slowed her pace. “You sound like my therapist,” she said, but her tone wasn’t sharp, more curious than defensive. “You think I don’t enjoy it?”
“I think it’s a lot of pressure,” Jasmine said. “Having everyone expect you to be perfect.”
Saphara looked at her then, lips curling slightly. “Pressure makes diamonds.”
Jasmine smirked. “And cracks, too.”
For a moment, the air between them changed, less glitter, more gravity. Saphara’s expression softened just enough to make Jasmine’s chest tighten. Then she smiled again, that practiced tilt of lips that shut the door back in place. “You worry too much,” she said. “Come on, we’ll be late for next class.”
They crossed the quad, passing under the shade of the big acacia tree near the fountain. The guitar player from earlier was now singing softly, his voice low and steady. A couple leaned against the stone ledge, laughing quietly. Jasmine’s mind drifted.
She thought about how Saphara could walk into any space and instantly rearrange its energy. How people’s postures changed when she entered. How Jasmine herself changed, shoulders tense, heart quickening, voice smaller. She hated it. She also couldn’t imagine not being near it.
By the time they reached the next building, Saphara slowed, glancing sideways. “You okay?”
Jasmine blinked. “Yeah. Why?”
“You’re quiet.”
“I’m always quiet.”
“True,” Saphara said with a grin. “But sometimes it feels like you’re thinking too loud.”
Jasmine looked down at the pavement. “Maybe I am.”
Saphara nudged her elbow. “Don’t think so much. Just enjoy it.”
“Enjoy what?”
“This.” Saphara gestured to the campus, the movement, the attention that followed her even from across the courtyard. “College. Freedom. The whole performance.”
Jasmine raised an eyebrow. “So you admit it’s a performance.”
Saphara smiled. “Everything is. You just have to decide your role.”
They stepped inside the next lecture hall, cooler again, with posters plastered across the walls, club announcements, poetry slams, calls for auditions. Saphara’s eyes lingered on a flyer for an open-mic night.
“You should join that,” Jasmine said. “You like being seen.”
Saphara turned to her, mock-offended. “And you don’t?”
“I like… watching,” Jasmine said honestly.
Saphara’s grin returned, sharp and knowing. “Then keep watching.”
They slipped into seats near the back this time. The professor hadn’t arrived yet, and the room buzzed with idle chatter. A couple of students at the front whispered, glancing back at Saphara. Jasmine caught snippets: She’s so pretty in person, and I heard she’s dating someone from the basketball team.
Jasmine’s chest tightened. Of course there’s already a rumor.
Saphara noticed her expression and leaned in. “What?”
“Nothing.”
Saphara smiled like she could read her anyway. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Jas.”
Jasmine’s throat went dry. “I’m not.”
“Good.” Saphara sat back, flipping her hair. “Because that would be messy.”
The professor walked in, saving Jasmine from replying. The chatter faded, replaced by the sound of notebooks flipping open. Jasmine tried to focus, to absorb the lecture, but her mind kept drifting, first to Saphara’s perfume, then to the warmth radiating from her shoulder, then to the way Saphara’s nails tapped lightly on the desk in rhythm with her pen.
Halfway through, Saphara leaned closer again. “Bored yet?” she whispered.
Jasmine didn’t look up. “You always ask that.”
“Because you always look too serious,” Saphara said, her voice low and teasing. “Loosen up.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re missing all the fun parts.”
“What fun parts?” Jasmine whispered.
Saphara’s smile widened. “Watching them watch me.”
Jasmine risked a glance around the room. She was right, half the class’s eyes flicked toward Saphara every few minutes. Some tried to be subtle, most failed. Even the professor seemed slightly more animated when addressing her side of the room.
“You really like this, huh?” Jasmine said quietly.
Saphara shrugged. “Liking isn’t the point. It’s knowing I can.”
Jasmine didn’t answer. Her stomach felt hollow.
By the time class ended, Jasmine’s notebook was full of neat lines of notes she could barely remember writing. The professor dismissed them with a reminder about the next quiz, and the scraping of chairs filled the room.
Saphara stood, stretching slightly, her blouse shifting just enough to draw a few lingering looks. “Ready?” she asked.
Jasmine nodded, though she didn’t feel ready for anything.
As they walked out, a girl from another class waved at Saphara. “Hey! We’re forming a study group later, sama ka?”
Saphara smiled apologetically. “Sorry, full na schedule ko. Maybe next time.”
The girl laughed, pretending not to look disappointed. Jasmine noticed how Saphara’s tone carried both warmth and distance, a trick she’d perfected.
Outside, the sun was already starting to dip, painting the courtyard gold. Students lounged on the grass, some still in uniform, others in casual clothes, mid-shift from day to evening. Saphara stopped near the fountain again, glancing at her reflection in the water, then at the people passing by.
“They stare too much,” Jasmine said quietly.
“They can’t help it,” Saphara replied.
Jasmine hesitated. “Do you like it?”
Saphara thought for a moment, lips curving faintly. “It’s not about liking. It’s about control.”
Jasmine frowned. “Control?”
“Yeah.” She turned, meeting Jasmine’s gaze. “If people are going to look anyway, might as well decide what they see.”
The words sank deep, heavier than they sounded. Jasmine wanted to argue, but there was a strange truth in them.
Saphara tilted her head. “You don’t get it now, but you will.”
Jasmine looked away, focusing on the ripples in the water. “Maybe I don’t want to.”
“Everyone wants to,” Saphara said softly. “To be seen. To be chosen. You just pretend you don’t.”
Jasmine’s pulse quickened. “You don’t know that.”
Saphara smiled, slow and certain. “I do.”
The moment stretched between them, quiet, charged, and impossible to define. Then someone called Saphara’s name from across the courtyard, breaking it.
Saphara waved casually, her smile turning back on like a light switch. “Come on, Jas. We’ve got another class.”
Jasmine followed, her footsteps echoing a fraction behind. Around them, the buzz of the campus swelled again, laughter, chatter, the clatter of cups from the café cart. Everything as usual. And yet, Jasmine felt a subtle ache under her ribs, like she’d been shown something she couldn’t unsee.
As they disappeared into the stream of students, Jasmine thought of what Saphara had said. If people are going to look, decide what they see.
Saphara always decided. And Jasmine, quiet, careful Jasmine, was starting to realize what it felt like to live in someone else’s orbit.
She told herself it didn’t matter, that she was fine being in the background. But as she watched Saphara’s hair catch the light again, glowing gold in the late afternoon sun, she couldn’t shake the feeling that part of her didn’t want to step out of the shadow at all.
Maybe it was safer there.
Maybe it was easier.
The library smelled like old paper, coffee, and that faint antiseptic scent from the polished wood tables. The quiet hum of typing, page-turning, and soft whispers wrapped around me, making me feel both invisible and hyper-aware at the same time. I tucked my notebook under my arm, scanning the aisles for Saphara. Of course, she was already there.
She was leaning on a table like it was a throne, laptop open but clearly secondary to the world around her. Her hair fell perfectly even under the fluorescent lights, catching hints of sunlight that filtered through the tall windows. She looked up, catching my gaze before I even reached her.
“Finally,” she said, voice dripping mock exasperation. “I was starting to think you got lost in the stacks. Again.”
I rolled my eyes, setting my bag down. “I didn’t get lost. Unlike you, I don’t need to make an entrance wherever I go.”
Saphara tilted her head, smirk playing on her lips. “Dramatic? Darling, I call it presence. And let’s be honest, you secretly love it.”
I froze slightly at her tone, trying to look nonchalant, even though my chest had betrayed me with a small flutter. “I like that people notice you. But that’s… everyone. Not just me.”
Her eyes sparkled as she leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Cute attempt at humility. But we both know you watch more than anyone else. Admit it. You notice everything.”
I felt my cheeks heat up, trying to focus on the corner of my notebook. But every twitch of her expression pulled me in, every smirk, every slight tilt of her head, the curve of her lips.
She reached across the table and lightly brushed her fingers against mine as she picked up a pencil. The contact was so fleeting, but it left a warmth that ran straight to my stomach. “You know,” she murmured, “I like that you’re the one who actually sees me. Everyone else? They just orbit me. But you? You’re… special. A little satellite in my universe.”
I bit my lip, trying to mask the warmth creeping up my neck. “Special, huh?” I tried to sound indifferent, failing miserably.
She leaned even closer, lowering her voice so that only I could hear. “Mm-hm. You notice the little things. Like when I’m pretending to ignore people, or when I want to mess with someone. You see the real me, Jas. And you like it.”
I wanted to tell her I didn’t, that I couldn’t keep falling under her spell like this. But my voice caught somewhere in my throat. So I stayed quiet.
“Ah, look at you,” she whispered, brushing her fingers lightly across my hand again, “so serious, so focused. You’re always thinking, analyzing. But trust me, darling, sometimes you just need to feel.”
I blinked, heart hammering. “Feel what?”
Her grin widened, mischievous. “Feel me, of course.” She leaned back slightly, letting the air shift between us. “You can deny it all you want, but I know the truth. You love being in my orbit. You love it when I touch you, when I tease you, when I make you flush like this.”
I swallowed hard, trying to look anywhere but her eyes. My pulse raced, and my fingers twitched nervously against the notebook.
“You’re thinking about how everyone else would react if they saw us like this,” she said softly, almost a whisper now. “That’s why you get so quiet around me sometimes. Because I make you feel things no one else can.”
I opened my mouth, trying to argue, but all I managed was a shaky, “I’m… not thinking anything.”
Saphara leaned forward, forehead almost brushing mine, teasing, whispering, “Oh, Jas, you so are. And I like it. I like watching you squirm a little. Makes me feel powerful.”
I felt my face burning red. My hand twitched where hers had grazed mine, and I tried to pull my gaze away, but she caught it with a wink.
“Don’t worry,” she said with a teasing sigh, “I won’t tell anyone how flustered you get. Your secret’s safe with me.”
I huffed, trying to look annoyed, but the faint smile threatening my lips betrayed me. “I don’t know why I let you do this to me.”
“Why?” She leaned closer again, lips almost brushing my ear. “Because you like it. Admit it, baby. You love how I make you feel… small, and yet… electrified.”
I couldn’t respond. My thoughts scrambled like feathers in a storm. She laughed softly, low and teasing. “See? You’re enjoying this more than you think.”
A group of students passed by, whispering and glancing in our direction. I felt my chest tighten. Saphara noticed, and she leaned back, smirking. “Relax. Let them think what they want. You and I? We know the truth. You’re mine.”
My throat tightened. “Mine?” I asked, a mix of disbelief and something I wasn’t ready to name creeping in.
She shrugged, mischievous. “Well… not literally. But I claim what I want, Jas. You included.”
I swallowed hard, feeling heat bloom in my chest. She was dangerous, intoxicating, impossible to resist. And I was already in too deep.
The library felt smaller now, almost suffocating in its quiet. My notebook lay open, but I barely glanced at it. Every little sound, the soft scrape of Saphara’s chair as she shifted, the faint tapping of her fingers against the laptop felt amplified. My chest raced in ways I couldn’t control, and I knew it was because she was near, leaning lazily on the edge of the table, smirking like she knew exactly what she was doing.
“Are you even listening to me, Jas?” she murmured, tilting her head and letting a few strands of hair brush my cheek. I could feel her breath, warm and teasing, and it made something coil in my stomach.
“I… uh…” I stammered, words failing me. My eyes flicked down to my notebook, then back up, catching her gaze. She was watching me, fully aware of the effect she had. And, of course, enjoying it.
“You look adorable when you’re flustered,” she said softly, almost a whisper, leaning closer so that her lips were dangerously near my ear. “I swear, you can’t hide it from me. Not ever.”
I swallowed hard, trying to focus on the papers in front of me, but her presence was a gravitational pull I couldn’t resist. “I… I’m not flustered,” I muttered, even as my fingers twitched nervously.
Saphara laughed, a low, teasing sound that made my heart skip. “Mmm, sure. Keep telling yourself that, Jas. But I see the way your cheeks burn. The way your fingers fidget. The way your lips twitch when I smile at you like this.”
I bit my lip, wishing I could disappear under the table. Instead, I found myself leaning in a little, almost against my will. I wanted to stop her, to pull back, but her gaze held me, playful yet commanding.
“You know,” she whispered, tilting her head so our foreheads nearly touched, “if you were braver, you’d reach for me. Just a little. See what happens.”
My heart thumped erratically, and my breath hitched. “Braver? Me? I…” I trailed off, my words caught in a tangle of nerves and something I didn’t have the courage to name.
She grinned, leaning back slightly, giving me just enough space to think I had control but not enough to actually feel it. “That’s okay. I like teasing you. Watching you squirm a little. Makes you… human.”
I wanted to argue, wanted to tell her I wasn’t squirming. But my fingers brushed against hers accidentally, and she caught it immediately. A sly smile tugged at her lips. “See? There it is. That little spark. That’s all it takes, Jas. One tiny touch, and suddenly the world doesn’t feel quite so steady.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to steady myself, but the warmth of her hand against mine lingered, making me feel like I was floating.
“You’re impossible,” I whispered, a mixture of frustration and something else I didn’t understand.
“I know,” she said, leaning closer again, letting her shoulder brush against mine. “And you love it. Admit it. You love it when I make you feel… this.” She tapped lightly against my arm, teasing, watching every reaction.
I groaned softly, covering my face with my hands for a second, hiding the flush that spread across my cheeks. “I don’t know why I even…” I trailed off, shaking my head.
“Because I know you too well,” she murmured, tilting her head to rest it near mine. “I know what makes you tick. What makes you nervous. What makes you… soft. And you? You keep coming back for it. You can’t resist, can you?”
I could feel her smirk, that dangerous curve of her lips near my ear. “I…” My voice broke halfway, betraying me entirely.
“Exactly,” she whispered, pressing just slightly closer, enough that I could feel her breath mingle with mine. “I know you, Jas. And you? You like this. You like me.”
I felt my stomach twist, a combination of frustration and something electric I couldn’t name. “This isn’t fair,” I muttered, but it came out more like a plea than a complaint.
“Fair?” she laughed softly, brushing a finger along my notebook, lingering a little too long on my hand. “Baby, life isn’t fair. But you get to play in my world. Watch. Learn. Maybe even survive.”
I shivered, though I wasn’t sure if it was from the air conditioning or from her proximity. She leaned back just slightly, giving me the illusion of space. “See? I even give you room to breathe. Aren’t I generous?”
“Generous…” I echoed, voice small, heart still hammering. “Right.”
Her grin widened, sharp and teasing. “Oh, you’re adorable when you’re flustered, Jas. I could just spend the entire afternoon watching you squirm. But maybe I’ll reward you instead. If you’re lucky.”
I blinked, my mind scrambling. “Reward me?”
“Hmm…” She leaned across the table, her chin resting in her hand. “Maybe with a smile. Maybe with a little attention. Maybe with something more, if you’re very, very good.”
I felt my cheeks flare, and I instinctively crossed my arms, trying to hide it. “I’m… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
She reached over, tilting my chin up gently with her fingers, forcing me to meet her gaze. “You’re doing perfectly. Just by being here. By watching me. By feeling a little helpless, a little drawn.” Her voice was soft, hypnotic, teasing all at once.
My heart raced, my thoughts a chaotic mess. “I don’t… I can’t…” I tried to speak, but she leaned in again, close enough that I could feel her warmth.
“Shhh,” she whispered, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t need to say anything. Just feel. That’s enough for now.”
The sound of pages turning, pencils tapping, and distant whispers became background noise. All I could feel was her presence, her teasing, her magnetic pull. Every nerve in my body seemed to hum, every thought about leaving or resisting drowned out by the rhythm of proximity, touch, and unspoken promises.
Finally, she leaned back, resting her elbows on the table, smirking down at me like a cat who had cornered a particularly stubborn mouse. “You see? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I could only shake my head, flushed and trembling slightly, a faint smile threatening to break through. “No… I guess not.”
She tilted her head, winked, and whispered, “Good. Because you’re going to need to get used to it. I don’t go easy, Jas. Not for anyone.”
I swallowed hard, heart still racing. “I… I’ll survive, I guess.”
“Mm-hm,” she murmured, leaning closer just enough for me to feel the warmth of her presence, the teasing glint in her eyes. “You’ll survive… as long as you stay in my orbit.”
And just like that, I knew. I wasn’t going anywhere. Not even if I wanted to.
------
It was already 11 PM, The hallway outside my dorm was unusually silent that night. Most of the floor lights were dimmed, the kind of muted glow that made everything feel heavier. The only sound was the soft hum of the vending machine at the end of the corridor and the faint bass from a party two floors down.
I sat cross-legged on my bed, laptop open, half-heartedly scrolling through my notes. My eyes hurt, but I wasn’t really reading anyway. My mind kept drifting to her.
Saphara.
Every time I tried to focus, her laugh echoed somewhere in my memory. The way she tossed her hair, the way her perfume lingered. She was probably at another party, laughing, flirting, being her. I tried not to think about it, but my chest ached with something that felt a lot like jealousy.
Then, just past midnight, there was a knock.
It wasn’t loud, three slow taps, the kind you’d only use if you didn’t want to wake anyone.
My heart jumped. Only one person knocked like that.
I hesitated for a second, staring at the door. “No way,” I whispered to myself, but I was already standing, crossing the room.
When I opened it, Saphara was leaning against the frame, eyes heavy-lidded, hair slightly messy, the faint scent of liquor and vanilla clinging to her. Her lipstick was smudged, and her heels dangled from her hand.
“Hey,” she said, voice soft, almost sleepy. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
I shook my head, though my pulse was already racing. “You… you’re drunk.”
“Tipsy,” she corrected, smiling lazily. “There’s a difference.” She took a small step forward, and I automatically stepped back, giving her space to enter.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Her eyes swept across my tiny dorm room, bed neatly made, books stacked, fairy lights flickering weakly above the desk. “Cute,” she murmured. “It smells like jasmine tea.”
“Because it is jasmine tea,” I said, trying to sound casual. “You want some?”
She shook her head, kicking her heels aside and sitting on the edge of my bed. “No. I just wanted to be here.”
Something in her tone made my chest tighten. Saphara rarely said things like that without a reason.
I watched as she leaned back on her hands, her hair falling loose around her shoulders. The confident, untouchable Saphara I saw in daylight seemed to fade, replaced by someone softer.
“You okay?” I asked quietly.
She shrugged, staring at the floor. “I don’t know. Everyone was talking too much tonight. Pretending. I got tired.”
I sat down beside her, not too close, but close enough to feel the warmth from her shoulder. “You’re allowed to get tired sometimes, you know.”
She laughed, a low, tired sound. “Not me. I can’t be tired. Queen bees don’t get tired. They just sparkle harder.”
“That’s exhausting,” I said before I could stop myself.
She turned to me, smiling faintly. “Yeah. But it’s the only way to keep the crown.”
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us felt thick, almost humming. Then she looked at me, really looked, and something shifted.
Her voice dropped. “You always listen. You never ask for anything back. Why is that?”
I swallowed, unsure how to answer. “Maybe because you don’t let people get close enough to ask.”
Her lips curved, but it wasn’t her usual smirk. “Except you.”
The way she said it made my stomach twist. I wanted to believe her.
“Saph…” I started, but she cut me off with a small laugh.
“Relax, Jas. You’re so serious.” She reached out and tugged gently at my sleeve. “Come here. You’re too far away.”
I moved a little closer.
“There,” she whispered. “Much better.”
She leaned her head against my shoulder, sighing softly. The scent of her hair, vanilla and alcohol and something floral, wrapped around me. I could feel her breathing slow, warm against my skin.
My heart thudded wildly, but I stayed still. I didn’t dare move.
After a moment, she spoke again, voice quiet and slurred at the edges. “You know what’s funny? Out there, everyone wants me. But when I leave the party, it’s always you I think of. Always you I end up looking for.”
I froze, unsure if it was the alcohol talking or the truth slipping out. “Saphara…”
“Hmm?” she murmured, eyes half-closed.
“You shouldn’t say things like that.”
She lifted her head, her face suddenly close, too close. Her eyes searched mine, glassy but sharp. “Why not?”
“Because you don’t mean them,” I said softly.
Her lips quirked, almost sad. “Maybe I do. Maybe I just don’t want to.”
The room went quiet again. Outside, a car horn echoed faintly from the street below. The clock on my desk ticked loudly, filling the silence between us.
She reached out, brushing her fingers over my wrist. “You’re warm,” she whispered. “You always are.”
I swallowed hard, staring at the way her hand lingered. I should’ve pulled away. But I didn’t.
“You let me be like this,” she continued. “No judgment. No pretending. Just you.”
“That’s what friends are for,” I said quietly.
Her smile deepened, slow and knowing. “Friends?” She tilted her head, eyes glinting with mischief again. “That’s cute.”
Before I could respond, she leaned in closer, her breath warm against my cheek. “Tell me, Jas, do you always take care of your friends like this?”
I couldn’t breathe.
Her fingers traced the edge of my jaw, feather-light. “You’re so serious all the time,” she murmured. “You make it too easy to tease you.”
“Saph…” My voice came out hoarse.
“Hmm?”
“You should sleep. You’re drunk.”
She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Drunk, yeah. But not that drunk.”
Then, quieter, “Do you want me to stop?”
My pulse skipped. “I—”
She smiled, not waiting for my answer. “You’re not saying no.”
The distance between us disappeared. Her eyes fluttered shut, and the room felt suddenly smaller, the air heavy with something electric and fragile.
Her lips brushed against my temple, light as a question.
“Say something,” she whispered.
But I couldn’t. My throat closed around every word.
She leaned in again, slower this time, giving me space to pull back. I didn’t.
And that’s when I realized I didn’t want to.
Her hand found mine, fingers tangling softly, and the tension that had been building for weeks finally cracked open.
The fairy lights flickered once, like they were holding their breath too.
Her words hung in the air, soft, teasing, dangerous.
You’re not saying no.
My breath caught, trapped somewhere between wanting to speak and wanting to stay silent. The air between us was heavy now, sweet with her perfume, the faint salt of sweat on her breath.
Saphara leaned closer, her hand sliding up from my wrist to my shoulder, fingers tracing the line of my collarbone. Her touch was feather-light, almost shy, but there was nothing uncertain in her gaze.
“See?” she whispered, voice like silk. “You’re trembling.”
I tried to laugh, but it came out more like a gasp. “Because you’re impossible.”
“Mm,” she hummed, smiling faintly. “And yet you never push me away.”
Her lips hovered near mine, close enough that I could feel the tremor of her breath. My eyes flicked down, then back up. The world outside the tiny dorm vanished; all that existed was her and the soft hum of electricity between us.
She brushed her nose against mine, playful, testing. I flinched slightly, not from discomfort but from how much I wanted it.
“Still not saying no,” she murmured.
And then, before I could think, she kissed me.
It was soft at first, a fleeting brush of warmth that barely lasted a heartbeat. Then again, longer, deeper. My chest tightened. I forgot how to breathe.
Her lips were warm and slow, tasting faintly of sugar and liquor. She tilted her head, pressing a little harder this time, her hand sliding up to cup my jaw. I melted before I could stop myself, my fingers curling into the sheets.
When she pulled back slightly, her eyes were half-lidded, her lips glistening. “You taste like jasmine tea,” she whispered, amused. “Sweet. Familiar.”
“You’re drunk,” I managed to say, my voice unsteady.
“Tipsy,” she corrected again, smiling against my skin as she leaned in to kiss the corner of my mouth. “Enough to be honest. Enough to stop pretending.”
Another kiss, this one slower, more searching. My breath hitched. The world tilted.
Her hands moved up, threading gently into my hair, tugging just enough to make me look at her. Her gaze was dark now, pupils blown wide. “You have no idea what you do to me,” she murmured.
And maybe it was the alcohol on her breath, or the loneliness in her voice, but I believed her.
I reached up hesitantly, fingers grazing her cheek. Her skin was warm beneath my touch, soft, alive. The smallest sound escaped her throat, half sigh, half hum, and she leaned into my palm like she’d been waiting for it.
Then the kiss deepened.
It wasn’t soft anymore. It was hungry.
Her lips parted, breath mingling with mine, and she angled closer, pressing me gently back against the bedframe. My mind blanked, no thought, only the rhythm of touch and breath and the way she kept whispering my name like it was a secret.
“Jas,” she breathed, lips ghosting over my jaw, my neck, my mouth again.
Every inch of me felt electric. My fingers clutched at her waist, unsure where to hold, afraid and wanting all at once. She made a low sound, a hum of approval, and kissed me harder.
Time slipped. The fairy lights flickered overhead, the soft hum of the AC the only witness to the way the air thickened between us.
Her hand found mine again, intertwining, squeezing gently as if to say stay.
I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t.
Her voice dropped to a whisper, trembling but confident. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”
But I didn’t.
Instead, I leaned in, closing the space again, finding her lips like I’d been waiting for this moment longer than I cared to admit. She smiled against my mouth, triumphant and tender all at once.
Our breaths tangled. Her hands moved from my jaw to my neck, her thumbs tracing small, slow circles that made my pulse race.
I gasped softly, and she chuckled, the sound low and wicked. “See? I told you. You like this.”
I wanted to argue, but she kissed me again, silencing every thought.
When she finally pulled back, both of us were breathing hard. Her forehead rested against mine, eyes closed, lips curved into that maddening half-smile.
“This,” she whispered, voice shaking just slightly, “stays between us. Just you and me.”
I nodded, though part of me already knew how much that promise would hurt later.
But in that moment, none of it mattered. The world had narrowed to her heartbeat against mine, her breath on my skin, the quiet certainty that I’d fallen too deep to ever climb back out.
She looked at me again, eyes soft but unreadable. “Say it,” she murmured. “Say you want this.”
My throat tightened. “I want”
The words wouldn’t come, but she didn’t wait. She kissed me again, slow, claiming, final.
And as the night folded in around us, I knew I was already lost.
“Say you want this,” she whispered again, her voice almost a sigh against my mouth.
My answer came out on a breath. “I want this.”
The way she looked at me then, half-relieved, half-hungry, made my chest twist. She kissed me once more, softer this time, slower, like she wanted to memorize it. Her hand slid down to my shoulder, tracing the edge of my sleeve before tugging lightly.
“Too many layers,” she murmured, a teasing smile curling her lips.
I froze for a heartbeat, nerves and want tangled tight. “Saph…”
She drew back just enough to meet my eyes. “I’ll stop if you tell me to.”
I didn’t.
Instead, I nodded, barely. Her smile deepened, tender and sure.
She lifted the hem of my shirt, fingertips brushing skin. The air felt cold where her touch had been. My breath stuttered, and I helped her pull it over my head. She tossed it aside carelessly, laughing under her breath. “See? That’s better.”
The laugh turned into another kiss, deeper now. Her hands were confident, tracing the curve of my back, drawing small circles that left fire in their wake. My own fingers found the zipper of her jacket, tugging it down. It slid off her shoulders easily, landing somewhere on the floor.
She caught my wrist before I could pull away, guiding my hand to the button of her blouse. “Go on,” she whispered. “You can.”
I did. Slowly. Each button undone felt like a held breath finally released.
When the fabric fell away, she wasn’t the untouchable Saphara everyone saw in the courtyard. She was warm, flushed, hair messy, eyes darker than I’d ever seen.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she touched the edge of my jeans, and for a moment, the teasing disappeared. “You’re sure?” she asked, voice barely there.
“Yes,” I whispered.
The answer seemed to undo her. She exhaled, long and shaky, and leaned in until there was nothing between us but heat. We moved carefully at first, slow, uncertain, like learning a language neither of us had spoken aloud.
My hands slid up her arms, tracing her shoulders, until the straps of her top slipped down. Her lips found mine again, softer now, less performance, more confession.
When her blouse finally joined the rest of our clothes on the floor, she laughed quietly against my mouth. “You always make me forget how to act.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” I whispered.
She didn’t answer, only kissed me again, pulling me down with her until we were half tangled in the sheets, bare skin meeting bare skin, hearts pounding too loud. The fairy lights flickered once more, like they couldn’t decide whether to keep watching.
Saphara's fingers traced the curve of my jaw, her touch sending shivers down my spine. She leaned in, her lips brushing against my ear. "Beg for it," she whispered, her breath hot against my skin. I bit my lip, hesitating. Saphara's hand moved to my throat, her grip firm but not constricting. "Beg," she repeated, her voice a low growl.
I nodded, my breath hitching as Saphara's hand moved lower, her fingers tracing the swell of my breasts. Her fingers traced the lace of my bra, her touch light and teasing. I arched into her touch, my nipples hardening beneath the lace.
Saphara smirked, her fingers moving to the clasp of my bra. She undid it with a flick of her wrist, the fabric falling away to reveal my bare breasts. Saphara's eyes darkened with desire as she leaned in, her tongue flicking over my nipple. I gasped, my back arching as she sucked my nipple into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the hardened peak.
Saphara's hand moved lower, her fingers tracing the waistband of my panties. She tugged them down, her fingers brushing against my clit as she pulled them off. I moaned, my hips bucking at the touch. Saphara chuckled, her fingers moving to my pussy, tracing the wetness that had gathered there.
"You're so wet," she murmured, her fingers teasing my entrance. I nodded, my breath hitching as she pushed two fingers inside me. Saphara's thumb moved to my clit, rubbing in slow circles as she fucked me with her fingers.
I moaned, my hips bucking against her hand. Saphara's lips moved to my ear, her breath hot against my skin. "I want to hear you" she whispered, her fingers moving faster inside me. I moaned, my breath coming in short gasps. "Please," I whispered, my voice shaking.
Saphara's lips curved into a smirk as she pulled her fingers out of me. She pushed me back onto the bed, her hands moving to my thighs. She spread my legs wide, her eyes locked on my pussy. She leaned in, her tongue flicking out to taste me.
I gasped, my hips bucking at the touch. Saphara's tongue moved in slow circles around my clit, her fingers moving to my entrance. She pushed three fingers inside me, her tongue moving faster against my clit.
I moaned, my hands moving to her hair. I tugged at the strands, my hips bucking against her face. Saphara's fingers moved faster inside me, her tongue swirling against my clit. I cried out, my orgasm crashing over me like a wave.
Saphara pulled back, her lips curving into a smirk as she watched me come down from my high. She moved up my body, her fingers tracing my skin. She leaned in, her lips brushing against mine. I could taste myself on her lips, a heady mix of sweetness and desire.
Saphara's fingers moved back to my pussy, her thumb rubbing against my clit. I moaned, my hips bucking against her hand. Saphara's fingers moved inside me, her thumb rubbing against my clit. I moaned, my hips bucking against her hand.
Saphara's lips moved to my ear, her breath hot against my skin. "Let me hear you beg, Jas" she whispered, her fingers moving faster inside me. I nodded, my breath hitching. "Please, Saph. Please." I whispered, my voice shaking.
Saphara's lips curved into a smirk as she pump her fingers faster and harder. I gasped, my hips bucking against her hand. Saphara's thumb moved to my clit, rubbing in slow circles as she fucked me with her fingers.
I moaned, my hips bucking against her hand. Saphara's lips moved to my ear, her breath hot against my skin. "Come for me, Jas" she whispered, her fingers moving faster inside me. I cried out, my orgasm crashing over me like a wave.
Saphara pulled her fingers out of me, her lips moving to mine. She kissed me deeply, her tongue exploring my mouth. I moaned, my hands moving to her hair. Saphara pulled back, her eyes filled with desire. "Good girl," she murmured, her lips curving into a smirk.
I smiled, my body still trembling from my orgasms. Saphara lay down beside me, her arm pulling me close. I snuggled against her, my body still humming with pleasure. I could feel her heart beating against my chest, a steady rhythm that lulled me into a deep slumber.
The first thing I noticed was the light.
It crept through the blinds in thin, silver lines, cutting across the room and spilling over the tangled sheets. The air smelled faintly of perfume, fabric softener, and something warmer—skin, maybe.
I blinked slowly, disoriented, until the memories started to crawl back: the heat of her breath, the whisper of her name against my ear, the sound of her laugh in the dark.
Saphara lay beside me, half-covered by the blanket, her hair fanned across the pillow. For once, she looked almost ordinary—no lipstick, no eyeliner, no sharp smile ready to conquer the day. Just… soft. Human.
I watched her for a moment, my chest tightening with something I didn’t want to name.
Then she stirred, lashes fluttering open. “Morning,” she murmured, voice hoarse.
“Hey,” I whispered back.
She smiled faintly, that sleepy, dangerous kind of smile that could melt and cut at the same time. “You look like you didn’t sleep.”
“I didn’t,” I admitted, then regretted how honest that sounded.
She chuckled softly, rolling onto her back. “You think too much.”
Silence stretched between us—comfortable for me, maybe not for her. After a minute, she sat up, the blanket slipping down to reveal the marks of last night scattered faintly across her skin. I caught my breath. She didn’t notice, or pretended not to.
“Shit,” she said lightly, checking her phone. “It’s almost seven.”
I frowned. “You have class?”
“No,” she said, standing and reaching for her clothes. “But people start waking up around now.”
Her words hit like a cold draft. “Right,” I said quietly.
She pulled on her jeans, then her blouse, buttoning it with mechanical ease. The transformation was almost hypnotic: each piece of clothing another layer of armor, every movement rebuilding the persona she’d shed last night.
By the time she found her lipstick, she was Saphara again—the queen bee. Effortless. Untouchable.
I sat there, clutching the blanket around me, unsure what to say. I wanted to ask what now? but the question felt too fragile for daylight.
Saphara caught her reflection in the mirror, smoothing her hair. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said softly.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re expecting me to stay.”
I flinched. “That’s not—”
She turned to face me, her expression unreadable. “You know how this works, Jas. No one can know. Not yet. Not ever, maybe.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were,” she said gently, almost kindly. “You always do.”
Her tone wasn’t cruel, but it left a bruise all the same.
She crossed the room, leaned down, and brushed a kiss against my forehead—quick, almost perfunctory. “You’re sweet,” she murmured. “Too sweet for me.”
“Then why—” I started, but she shook her head.
“Don’t ruin it by asking.”
She grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. Her eyes softened for a fraction of a second—just enough to make me believe she felt something. Then the mask settled back in place.
“I’ll see you later, okay?”
It wasn’t a question, but a dismissal.
The door closed behind her with a quiet click.
I sat there for a long time, staring at the sunlight on the floor, the imprint of her body still warm beside me. Outside, I could already hear voices in the hallway—people laughing, talking about breakfast, about classes, about normal things.
And somewhere among them, she’d be smiling again, like nothing happened.
I reached for my mug on the nightstand, finding it cold, untouched from last night. The tea had gone bitter.
Under my breath, I whispered, “Yeah. See you later.”
But I knew she wouldn’t look back.