The hallway felt quieter than usual.
Not silent — just different. Like something had shifted and everyone could feel it.
Elena walked beside Raven after class, not too close, not too far. Close enough for people to notice. Far enough to pretend it meant nothing.
But it meant something.
"You're overthinking again," Raven said without looking at her.
"I'm not."
"You bite the inside of your cheek when you are."
She stopped walking. "Why do you notice things like that?"
He finally looked at her. "Because it's you."
Her chest tightened at how simple he made it sound.
They reached the staircase. Students passed by, some whispering, some staring openly now. The rumors weren't whispers anymore. They were statements.
Raven didn't seem to care.
Elena did.
"Does this bother you?" she asked quietly.
"What?"
"People talking."
He shrugged. "They always talk."
"That's not what I meant."
He understood anyway.
He leaned against the railing, studying her face. "Are you embarrassed?"
Her eyes widened. "No."
"Then what?"
She hesitated.
"I'm scared," she admitted.
Not of him.
Not exactly.
"Of what?" he asked.
"Of not knowing where this is going."
That made him go quiet.
Raven wasn't used to planning feelings. Fights had strategies. Territory had rules. Loyalty had consequences.
But this?
This had no manual.
"I don't do… normal," he said after a moment.
"I know."
"I don't promise soft things. Or safe things."
She swallowed. "I'm not asking you to."
"Then what are you asking?"
She stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"I'm asking if I matter. Or if I'm just a phase."
That hit harder than any punch he'd taken.
He straightened.
"You think I'd risk my reputation for a phase?" he asked.
"I don't know your limits."
His jaw tightened slightly. Then he stepped forward — not aggressively, just enough to close the distance.
"You matter," he said, steady and clear. "More than you should."
Her heart skipped.
"More than you're comfortable with?" she asked softly.
"Yes."
That honesty did something to her. It made everything feel less dramatic, less like a fantasy — and more real.
Footsteps echoed from down the hall.
One of Raven's gang members — Marco — walked toward them, his expression serious.
"Rave," Marco said low. "We need to talk."
Raven didn't move. "Later."
"It's about the Kings," Marco insisted. "They're not backing off."
Elena felt the tension immediately.
"I should go," she said.
Raven looked at her like he wanted to argue — but didn't.
"Text me when you get home," he said.
It wasn't controlling.
It wasn't possessive.
It was concern.
She nodded. "Okay."
As she walked away, she could feel his eyes on her.
—
Across the courtyard, hidden behind the bleachers, someone else was watching too.
The rival leader from the other night.
He smirked slightly.
"So that's the weakness," he muttered.
—
Later that evening, Elena sat on her bed staring at her phone.
One message from Raven.
Raven: Did you eat?
She smiled despite herself.
Elena: Yes. Did you?
A minute passed.
Raven: Don't change the subject.
She rolled her eyes lightly.
Elena: Yes, I ate.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Reappeared.
Then—
Raven: If anything happens, you call me. No hesitation.
Her smile faded slightly.
Elena: That sounds serious.
No reply for a while.
Then—
Raven: It might be.
Her chest tightened again.
She stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Elena: Are you in trouble?
This time, his reply came slower.
Raven: Not yet.
Not yet.
That was worse than yes.
Elena lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling.
She had chosen him.
But she was starting to understand what that choice might cost.
And somewhere in the dark—
A line had already been crossed.
There was no turning back now.
To be continued…