Lyra hit her like a spell that went straight to the chest.
One second Alayah was walking, half-listening to some math podcast she wasn't actually interested in, half-thinking about what angle to play in class; the next there was a soft thud, a flash of silver hair, and an armful of flustered Celestian staring up at her like she'd just walked into a lion's cage.
Lyra's shoulder had collided with her, and out of reflex Alayah's hand shot to her waist, fingers closing around warm fabric and the solid line of muscle underneath. For a heartbeat, they were close.
Way too close. Lyra's eyes widened , bright as hell and her lips parted just a fraction.
Alayah could feel her pulse jump.
Well. Good morning to her.
She couldn't help the smirk that tugged at her mouth. Lyra looked almost… rattled. Cheeks pink, breathing shallow, that careful Celestian composure cracked just enough to show something raw underneath.
"Careful, princess," Alayah drawled, not moving her hand right away. "You planning to throw yourself into my arms every time we meet, or is this a special occasion?"
Lyra made a small choking sound, half indignation, half something else and pulled back, freeing herself from Alayah's grip. She straightened her shirt with unnecessarily sharp movements, avoiding direct eye contact like it was dangerous.
"Don't flatter yourself," she muttered.
Too late. Alayah was very flattered.
Saturday flashed through her mind, Lyra laughing, flushed from victory, pressed against her on that shitty couch. The way she'd hugged her, arms around Alayah's neck, body molded to hers.
The way she'd smelled—clean and bright and so fucking good it made Alayah's head spin. The way her cock had reacted like it had a mind of its own, hard and urgent, demanding more.
If Lyra hadn't pulled away, Alayah knew, without a doubt, that she would have fucked her. No hesitation, no brakes.
She would have pinned her there, ripped that shirt off, and made Lyra forget her own name. Raw, messy, desperate. She could see it too clearly—Lyra moaning, clawing at her, legs shaking—
She cut the thought off before it could really take shape.
Nope. Not here. Not in a crowded university hallway at nine in the morning. On Saturday she'd almost lost control. Almost. Today she was more in control. Today she was thinking more with her head and less with her dick.
Didn't mean the dick wasn't trying, though.
Lyra smelled faintly of soap and something floral, and it was doing things to Alayah's self-control that should probably be illegal.
Even flustered, even bristling like a cat, she looked gorgeous. The braid over her shoulder, the light cardigan, the faint crease between her brows, Alayah wanted to smooth it out with her thumb. Or her teeth.
She shoved that thought away too.
"You look… alive," Alayah said, raising a brow in mock inspection. "Good. Would've been a shame if all that effort I spent saving your ass went to waste."
Lyra's jaw tightened. "I already thanked you."
"Oh, I remember," Alayah said, grin widening. "Breakfast. Call of Duty. Trying very hard not to sit near me like I bite."
"You do bite," Lyra shot back, finally glancing up at her.
There was something in her eyes, defensive, yes, but also… watchful. Curious. And under all that, a flicker of something that made Alayah's chest tighten in the worst, most inconvenient way.
"Only if I really like someone," Alayah replied before she could stop herself.
Lyra blinked, color rising again in her cheeks.
For a second, the hallway dissolved. The air between them tightened like a pulled string. Alayah had the brief, reckless urge to lean in, just a little, to see what Lyra would do. Flinch? Shove her? Close the distance?
She was very tempted to find out.
But then—
"ALAYAH!"
The shout knifed through the air behind her. Alayah closed her eyes for half a second, already recognizing the tone: high-pitched, excited, possessive.
She turned, and sure enough, there they were three girls from her math department and the video game club, practically jogging across the lobby to reach her.
One of them was the brunette who'd been hanging off her at the party. Another was a gamer with bright blue hair. The third she recognized from the front rows of class, all wide eyes and nervous smiles.
"Great," Alayah muttered under her breath. "The fan club."
She glanced back at Lyra for a half-beat, wanting, annoyingly to see her expression. But Lyra had already stepped back, shoulders squared, face blanked out into that cool Celestian neutrality. Walls up. Guard in place.
Of course.
"Hey," Alayah said, slipping into performance mode as the girls reached her. She leaned her weight onto one hip, shoulders loose, smile lazy. "You're all very loud. Is this an ambush?"
"We were just talking about the project!" the blue-haired one blurted. "And then I saw you and, like, we had to say hi. Also, you absolutely destroyed everyone in the last match on Saturday."
"You were insane," the brunette added, eyes shining. "I don't know how you even aim that fast. And you still went to the party after? I was dead for, like, twelve hours."
"And then Monday," the third girl chimed in, clutching a notebook to her chest like it was a shield. "You solved that problem on the board in, like, thirty seconds. Even the prof looked impressed."
Compliments, chatter, eyes locked on her like she was the main attraction. Alayah slipped into the role like a second skin. This was easy.
This she understood. Smile, tease, let them lean in, let them glow. Every laugh, every blush, every lingering look translated into crystals, admiration, infatuation, a little lust here and there.
She needed those. The contest wasn't going to win itself.
"Please," she said, waving a hand. "The problems were baby-level. And those idiots in the match walked into my line of fire. I barely had to try."
They laughed, exactly as expected.
She could feel the shimmer already, small crystals forming around them, like little stars only she could see. A soft red one from the brunette. A sharp pink one from the blue-haired girl. A pale gold admiration crystal from the shy one. They circled lazily, waiting to be claimed.
Alayah let them orbit for now. No need to harvest immediately. Let the feelings deepen; let the points stack.
She joked with them, tossed out just enough flirting to keep their hopes up without promising anything real.
She leaned closer when one of them showed her something on their phone. She laughed at their stories, tossed her hair back at just the right angle. All calculated. All efficient.
But some stubborn part of her awareness kept tugging backwards kept checking where Lyra was.
She risked a glance over the girls' heads.
Lyra had moved off, not far, but far enough to pretend she wasn't paying attention. She stood near the entrance to the main corridor, talking to someone, another student.
A tall guy, actually. Dark hair, clean jawline, impeccably dressed in a fitted shirt and slacks. Handsome in that smug, polished way some humans had. The kind who didn't have to try too hard to be noticed.
He was smiling at Lyra like he'd just found something precious. And Lyra… Lyra was smiling back. Not her fake politeness smile, either. Something smaller, softer.
Something in Alayah's chest twisted.
One of the girls tugged lightly at her sleeve, dragging her attention back. "Alayah? Are you coming to the study group later? We were thinking you could help us prep for the midterm…"
"Maybe," she said automatically. "Send me the time."
Her gaze flicked back to Lyra, like a magnet.
That was when she saw it.
A small crystal, faint and pink, hovering just over Lyra's chest. Not the usual external kind she collected from others. This one had a different glow, warmer, anchored directly to Lyra's aura. Internal. Personal.
A crush crystal.
It pulsed gently, growing brighter as Lyra laughed at something the tall guy said.
For a beat, the hallway noise went distant.
Alayah felt her jaw clench. Her first thought was purely, irrationally vicious: On him? Seriously? Pretty boy with the stupid perfect shirt? She wanted to march over there and blast his teeth out of his mouth.
Her second thought was worse.
Because a crush crystal forming from Lyra meant only one thing.
Lyra had a crush on a human.