The classroom buzzed lazily with the lull of break time. Chatter drifted across rows of desks, sunlight angled through the windows, and Mira sat quietly in her seat, her injured ankle propped on a footstool. She sipped from her thermos, flipping absentmindedly through her notes.
That peace didn't last.
"Still pretending to be a fragile flower?" teased Raymond—a wiry boy with a mischievous spark in his eyes, dark curls always slightly messy, like his thoughts. Without warning, he swooped past her desk, snatched her notebook, and twirled it in his hand with a grin. "Come and get it!"
He darted toward the back of the classroom, weaving between chairs with the agility of someone far too proud of his long legs.
The class looked up, half amused, half expectant.
But Mira didn't move.
She quietly closed her thermos, set it on her desk, and—without a single word—stood up.
There was no drama. No glare. Just calm, deliberate movement. One hand braced on her desk for balance, the other adjusting the strap of her brace, she straightened slowly, shifting her weight carefully onto her good leg.
Raymond paused.
Something about the way she moved—not angry, not playful, just quiet and focused—made the grin on his face falter.
She didn't limp after him.
Instead, she turned and walked across the room with perfect calm, straight to his desk.
Now every pair of eyes was on her.
The classroom quieted as she leaned down and picked up Raymond's things: his tablet, a crumpled pack of seaweed chips, a limited edition pen he always bragged about. She stacked them neatly, not saying a word, her back to the room.
Then she turned around.
"I'll count from one to ten," she said, voice even. "If my notebook isn't back in my hand, I'll test the aerodynamics of your stylus."
Raymond blinked. "Wait, you wouldn't—"
"One."
Muffled laughter rippled through the classroom.
"Two."
"Someone record this," someone whispered.
"Three."
Raymond glanced toward the window. "Not the pen—Mira—"
"Four."
Cheers broke out. "Let her do it!"
The door slid open.
Adrian stepped inside. His gaze swept over the scene—Raymond looking vaguely panicked, Mira calm and composed with a stack of his belongings in her hands, the class buzzing like an audience at a live show.
"Five," Mira said smoothly, not even looking his way.
Adrian arched an eyebrow and kept walking to his seat.
"Alright!" Raymond rushed forward, breathless. "Alright, you win—here! Please spare my gear."
Mira took her notebook with a faint smile, then gently set Raymond's things back on his desk—one by one.
The class applauded like she'd just won a game show.
As she limped back to her seat, someone muttered, "Remind me never to mess with her."
Mira just smirked and sat down, opening her notebook like nothing happened.
From his seat, Adrian glanced at her, one corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.
That was... more amusing than he expected.
❧
"For this project, you'll be working in pairs. You will submit a written analysis and deliver a presentation. Choose your partner wisely."
At the front, Professor Robert adjusted his glasses and spoke.
A few students glanced around, already calculating.
Professor Robert continued, "I'll give you a fifteen-minute break to discuss and form your teams. Stretch if you need to. We'll reconvene after."
The moment he stepped away from the podium, the room shifted—chairs scraping back, voices rising, the hush of formal instruction dissolving into bursts of chatter.
Mira wasn't really paying attention. She twirled her pen, eyes drifting out the window, her mind already on the Rare Plant Greenhouse Club's upcoming meeting.
Then—a small folded note slid onto her desk.
She blinked.
Glancing around, she cautiously opened it.
"Team up with me. – Adrian"
Mira's brain short-circuited.
She slowly lifted her head. At the row beside hers, Adrian sat perfectly composed—jotting something down in his notebook, utterly unfazed, as if he hadn't just casually dropped the most shocking request of the semester.
Adrian? Adrian just asked her to be his partner?
Before she could even process it, Camille plopped into the seat next to her. "Mira! Let's team up!"
Mira hesitated. "I… uh…"
Camille squinted. "Wait a second. Did you already team up with someone?"
Mira bit her lip. "No, but… uh…"
She leaned in, cupping her hand around Camille's ear. "Adrian asked me to team up with him."
Camille's reaction was instantaneous.
Her hands slapped over her mouth so hard it made an audible smack. Eyes wide, she grabbed Mira's wrist and yanked her straight out of the classroom.
"OUT. SIDE. NOW."
The second they were in the hallway, Camille exploded.
"MIRA. WHAT. WHAT. WHATTTTTT!?" She clutched her head like her brain was physically malfunctioning. "Adrian the absolute genius, the 'I-don't-work-with-mortals' guy, asked you to team up?! DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND THE MAGNITUDE OF THIS?"
Mira crossed her arms. "It means he wants to get the job done?"
Camille pointed at her like she had just committed blasphemy. "NO. WRONG. THIS IS NOT ABOUT HOMEWORK. THIS IS ABOUT DESTINY."
Mira groaned. "You're being dramatic."
Camille clutched her chest. "I was BORN to be dramatic." She exhaled deeply, then locked eyes with Mira. "Listen. Either this is some twisted social experiment he's running, OR—" She paused for effect. "You have sparked something in the cold, emotionless heart of Adrian Vale."
Mira genuinely didn't know whether to laugh or run. "Camille, for the love of—"
Camille clasped Mira's shoulders. "I AM SO INVESTED IN THIS." She spun in a circle, dramatically throwing her hands in the air. "I am buying popcorn. I am grabbing a front-row seat. I am setting up a livestream."
Mira covered her face. "Camille, please—"
Camille beamed. "No need to worry about me, my dear Mira. You focus on your very special team project with our dear, dear Adrian. And in the meantime…" She pulled out her phone with a devilish grin.
"I'm just gonna… let the others know."
Mira's stomach dropped. "Camille, DON'T—"
Too late.
The moment they stepped back inside, Mira's phone exploded with notifications.
Mira groaned, dropping her head onto her desk.
This was going to be a very long semester.
Mira hesitated for a moment before scribbling back on the note:
"I wouldn't want to refuse you, but I have friends to team up with. If there's any special reason for me to give up my friendship to work with you, I'll think about it."
She slid the note back to Adrian, expecting him to just brush it off or move on. Instead, after a brief pause, his pen moved across the page in a clean, precise script:
"You're the only one here who won't slow me down."
Mira blinked. She hadn't expected such a direct response. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
Adrian didn't look at her right away, casually flipping a page in his notebook. But then, just as she was about to write something back, he finally glanced her way—just a quick flick of his eyes, sharp and knowing, before returning to his notes as if the conversation was already settled.
It wasn't completely playful, nor was it just cold logic. It was something in between—a quiet challenge, maybe even a compliment, buried in his usual bluntness.
Mira hesitated for a fraction of a second before scribbling her reply.
"Is there any way that we could have mutual benefits?"
She slid the note back to him, expecting—what, exactly? A dismissive response? A sharp, efficient answer that cut straight to the point?
Instead, after barely a moment, Adrian's pen moved again. The note came back, short and direct.
"What kind of benefit are you looking for?"
Mira's fingers curled around the edge of the paper as her breath caught, just slightly. That wasn't the kind of answer she was expecting. Her eyes flickered toward him, instinctively—
And met his.
A quiet beat passed between them, her pulse stumbling.
Then, too quickly, she turned her head, looking away, pretending to be suddenly interested in the classroom walls, her textbook, or anything else.
Really… she never expected Adrian to be this—
She couldn't even find the word.
From the corner of her vision, she saw him glance down, turning back to his book as if the moment hadn't happened at all.
Mira hesitated, pen hovering over her notebook. Before she could write a response, another folded note slid onto her desk.
She unfolded it.
To her shock, it's not just a simple reply—it's a fully detailed draft. Adrian had already chosen a topic, outlined key arguments, and provided an analysis of a specific tech issue.
The group assignment was only announced minutes ago.
This guy was… something else.
Mira glanced sideways at Adrian. He's calmly flipping through his textbook, as if what he just did was the most normal thing in the world.
After a beat, she wrote back and passed the note.
"I appreciate your effort. But I'm not the type to let someone else do all the work—I want to learn something from this class. If you're just looking for someone to nod and agree, I'm not her."
Adrian's eyes lingered on Mira's note, reading the words again, slower this time. His lips pressed together, a thought skimming the edges of his mind, something just out of reach. His eyes flicker once to her, then back to the page. He didn't look annoyed—more like… interested.
His pen moved again. The reply came back, neat and brief:
"I'm not looking for a shadow. I need someone who can keep up."
Mira stared at the words, lips tightening despite herself. There it was again—that quiet, pointed challenge. Like he's not just asking to team up. He's measuring her.
She exhaled, just a little.
Then she wrote again:
"I don't want you to struggle either. But I don't decide things without talking them through. Let's discuss it first— then I'll let you know."
Adrian read her second note slowly this time. He tapped his pen once against the edge of the desk, thoughtful. Most people would've said yes just to ride his coattails.
But she's not like most people.
Without glancing her way, he spoke—softly, so only she could hear:
"Fine. After class."
No arguments. No smugness. Just an agreement.
But when she sneaked a glance at him a minute later, his eyes were already back on the page—except something in his posture had shifted, just a little.
Like a door had cracked open.
This wasn't entirely what he had planned.
Somehow, though, he found himself looking forward to it.
❧