The classroom emptied in a soft rustle of bags and murmured goodbyes, the scent of dry-erase markers lingering faintly in the air. Lottie moved slowly, slipping her books into her bag with deliberate care, each motion measured, as if by stretching out the moment she could delay the inevitable. But the sharp prickle at the back of her neck warned her: Leo was already moving.
His voice brushed her ear before she could turn. "Hayes."
Her breath hitched slightly—not enough to show, but enough for her pulse to spike against her ribs. She schooled her features into a cool, faintly amused smile as she pivoted. "Leo. You're lurking."
Leo's mouth curved into a smirk, but his eyes were anything but lazy. "You've been busy, haven't you?" His tone was light, but beneath it, a thread of curiosity tugged, sharp and insistent.
Lottie's fingers tightened imperceptibly on her bag strap. The leather dug into her palm, a grounding sensation against the rush of blood in her ears. "Busy? Please. I'm the very picture of student responsibility."
Leo let out a low laugh, pushing his hands into his pockets as he leaned casually against a desk. The chair gave a faint squeak under his weight, the sound slicing through the hush. "Sure. And Evelyn's just a misunderstood sweetheart."
A spark flickered in Lottie's chest, half amusement, half unease. She tipped her head, letting her hair slide over one shoulder, the movement effortless. "Careful, Leo. That almost sounded like you're paying attention."
His grin flashed, a wolfish glint in his eyes. "Maybe I am." He stepped in slightly, enough that she caught the faint scent of his cologne—clean, sharp, threaded with something darker, a smell that coiled into her awareness and lingered too long. "Funny thing, Hayes. You always used to drift along, head down, all good-girl perfection. Then, bam—this year? You're threading needles no one else even sees."
Lottie felt the tremor under her skin, the delicate hum of nerves twisting tight. She forced her fingers to relax, smoothing her hand along the edge of her bag, fingers brushing over the cool zipper pull. "Are you giving me a compliment or accusing me of something?" She let the question dangle, sweet on the surface, edged with steel beneath.
Leo tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over her face, lingering just long enough to stir a heat in her cheeks she hated. "Dunno yet. Maybe both." His voice lowered, a teasing drawl that grazed the skin just behind her ear, sending a shiver skimming down her spine. "But you're hiding something, Charlotte Hayes."
Her laugh came out smoother than she expected, sliding into the air like a polished blade. "Aren't we all?"
For a moment, silence hung between them, stretched thin, the ambient sounds of the hallway beyond slipping into a dull, distant hush. Lottie felt her heart hammering faster, each beat sharp against her ribs. She searched his face, looking for the tell—the crack, the angle—but Leo only watched her, the glimmer of a challenge alive in his eyes.
Amy's voice broke the tension, high and breathless. "Lottie! Hey, I—oh, Leo—" She stumbled slightly, cheeks pink as she clutched a notebook to her chest. Her gaze darted between them, wide-eyed and flickering with anxious curiosity.
Lottie turned smoothly, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek as she smiled at Amy, the motion a practiced balm over her tightening nerves. "Everything okay?"
Amy gave a jerky nod. "Y-yeah, I just—thought you'd left already."
Leo's smirk softened, a flicker of something unreadable sliding through his expression as he straightened. "Duty calls," he murmured, his voice pitched just low enough to make Lottie's pulse stutter again. His gaze lingered on her a second longer than necessary before flicking away. "See you around, Hayes."
Lottie watched him retreat down the hallway, his stride easy, hands shoved into his pockets, but the set of his shoulders tight with coiled intent. Her chest felt too tight, her breath caught in the space between her ribs. Amy tugged at her sleeve, voice hushed. "What was that about?"
Lottie gave a slow, careful smile. "Nothing important."
But her fingers tightened briefly at her side, and her heart kept its restless staccato as she watched Leo disappear around the corner. She felt the quake of uncertainty stir deep, a ripple breaking the smooth surface of her focus.
As she turned away, the faintest sound stirred near the lockers—a delicate click of heels, a breath caught too softly to be casual. Lottie didn't have to look to know. Evelyn watched. She could feel it—the ice-edged weight of her sister's gaze sliding like a knife between her shoulders.
A shiver rolled down Lottie's spine. She squared her shoulders, inhaling slowly through her nose. Stay sharp. Stay ahead.
But the gnaw of tension clung beneath her skin, whispering: Leo saw too much.
The next class passed in a haze. Lottie's mind flicked between fragments—Leo's grin, his questions, the slip of steel under his teasing. Evelyn's narrowed eyes, half-hidden behind polite smiles. Amy's nervous fidgeting, the way she hovered close, as if proximity could ward off disaster. The classroom felt suffocating, every laugh too loud, every movement edged with brittle tension. Even the scratch of pens across paper made her jaw tighten.
When the bell rang, Lottie moved quickly, slipping through the press of students and into the quieter stretch of hallway near the art wing. Her breath came a little faster now, her fingers brushing the cool cement wall as she steadied herself. She squeezed her eyes shut for half a second, letting the clamor of thoughts rush and then settle.
"Hey."
The word was soft, sliding into the space beside her like a blade.
Lottie opened her eyes slowly.
Leo leaned casually against the opposite wall, his arms folded, his gaze trained on her with that same sharp, unreadable intensity. The hall around them was empty, the distant sounds of the school fading to a hum behind closed doors.
"You really are good at slipping away," he murmured, pushing off the wall, his steps slow and measured as he crossed toward her. His shoes whispered over the floor, a sound just faint enough to slip under her skin. "But you're not quite invisible, Hayes."
Lottie arched a brow, crossing her arms, forcing her heartbeat to steady. "If you're following me, you should at least admit it."
Leo's smile deepened, a slow, lazy curve that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Maybe I like puzzles." He tilted his head slightly, watching her. "You've been moving pieces, haven't you? Setting up little fires, then stepping back to watch."
Lottie felt the chill spike at the back of her neck, her mouth going dry. She smoothed a hand down her sleeve, a delicate flick of her wrist. "Sounds like you're giving me a lot of credit."
Leo's laugh was soft, a low rumble that vibrated through the air between them. "You don't fool me, Hayes."
Her throat tightened. For the first time in weeks, real unease prickled at the edges of her calm. She dipped her head, lashes brushing her cheek as she forced a soft laugh. "Careful, Leo. You're starting to sound obsessed."
He moved in, just a fraction, just enough that his voice brushed the edge of her ear. "Maybe I am."
The world contracted to the space between them—the faint rise and fall of his breath, the warmth radiating off his skin, the glimmer of challenge in his voice. For a heartbeat, the game twisted, the familiar rhythm slipping into something sharper, more uncertain.
Amy's voice cut through, shrill and urgent. "Lottie! There you are!"
The moment shattered. Leo rocked back, his smirk flickering into something softer, something almost regretful. "Saved by the bell," he murmured, stepping back with an easy shrug. His eyes swept over her once more, lingering, then flicking toward Amy. "Catch you later, Hayes."
Lottie exhaled slowly as she watched him disappear down the corridor, the soft pad of his footsteps fading into the distance. Amy rushed up, worry etched across her features. "Lottie, I—are you okay? He looked… intense."
"I'm fine." Lottie's voice came out smooth, calm, the lie gliding off her tongue with practiced ease. But her heart beat too fast, the sharp, quick stutter of someone caught off-balance.
She felt it then—a faint ripple across the hallway, a shift in the air, the cold slide of eyes across her skin. Lottie turned her head, slow and deliberate, and met Evelyn's gaze from across the hall.
Their eyes locked.
Evelyn's expression was calm, almost sweet—but her eyes glimmered dark, sharp as broken glass. Her mouth curved faintly, a polite smile to anyone watching. But to Lottie, it was a blade.
Lottie's fingers curled at her side, her breath catching.
The board is shifting.
She forced herself to turn away, spine straight, chin lifted. Amy's voice tumbled anxiously in her ear, the words a blur as they made their way down the hall. But Lottie's mind was already racing ahead, calculating, unraveling, preparing.
Leo was watching. Evelyn was closing in.
And Lottie? She was walking the knife's edge—one slip, one misstep, and the whole delicate balance would shatter.
Her heart hammered as she stepped into the next hallway, the tension coiled tight beneath her skin.
And behind her, Evelyn watched. Waiting.